“You fool!” burst from Carlos. “I knew that it was a mistake when you were placed to guard her. I knew it was unsafe that she should tell you too much. Wait until the chief learns of this.”
“Let him pay us what he has promised,” said Ramon. “We will take it and be silent. He may then go where he pleases and carry the girl. Carlos, we are not the only ones here who demand to see this money and to hear it clink in our hands. Comrades, it is time we show our colors. Let those who are with me stand forth.”
At this there was a stir. Some of the men seemed to hesitate, but a moment later two more men came over to the side of Ramon and Jimenez.
“This is not all,” Ramon declared. “There are still others who are not satisfied with bare promises. Let the chief satisfy us. Where is he?”
Merry had been so deeply interested that he failed to hear a step behind him, and had not he been cautiously pressed in the shadows of his nook he might have been observed. The approaching man, however, had heard sounds of a quarrel in that room, and he strode past Frank and entered by the door.
“Who calls for me?” he demanded, in a clear, steady voice. “Why all this uproar?”
“Joaquin!” muttered one, while others exclaimed, “The chief!”
And Frank recognized Felipe Dulzura!
Sudden silence fell upon them. Dulzura, whom Frank now knew to be Black Joaquin, stood boldly looking them over. Despite the assertion made by one of the men that the chief was one who avoided danger, his bearing now seemed that of utter fearlessness and command.
“Speak!” he exclaimed. “What is the meaning of this?”