Narigudo said no more, but rose to follow his comrades as Alberto disappeared in the office. When the boy emerged, five minutes later, the place was deserted.
Rather simple, after all! Only five traitors, apparently; and for the present they were gone. Now, just to lock and bar the big gate, and think what next.
In much more comfortable mind after bolting the only entrance to the walled hacienda, Alberto strolled up to the great shed, and halted a moment by the big trundle-mill, pondering. So far, so good; and now what? Leave the place locked, and ride up to the city to warn the authorities?
A sound that you might hardly call a sound, so faint was it, startled his tense nerves; and as he wheeled the blood went from his face. Fifteen feet away, barefoot, Narigudo stood in the door of the ore-shed, with an ugly smile.
“Young Excellency,” he drawled, insolently, “you have locked me in. Give me the keys to go!”
At this Alberto found his voice. “In this hacienda,” said he, steadily, “it is accustomed to obey the administrador, and not to command him. I will let you out when I go to the gate.”
“Ah, it’s the administrador, is it? Then give me the keys before I eat an administrador!” The tone had changed from insolence to rage, and the angry fellow sprang forward.
Alberto wavered in his tracks, and then straightened with a snap. The key of the bullion-room? Never!
He plucked the heavy keys from his belt and flung them fiercely, just as that big hand clutched his shoulder. Narigudo hurled him against the wheel-post with a curse, and sprawled forward in a desperate effort. But the keys, just eluding his fingers, clanked down into the deep drain.
“Only wait!” he roared. “I shall have it just the same, and you shall pay the trouble!”