The shot had been heard without. "Red," Gilbert, Hardy, and a few Mexicans rushed in at the sound.
"Who shot?" cried the former.
"Pedro," said Lopez.
"But what was he shooting at?" "Red" asked.
Lopez smiled. "Only ze 'usband."
"What!" cried "Red." He turned and saw the body of Pell lying sprawled on the floor, and horror came over him. "You've killed him!" His voice was husky.
"I 'ave. Most enjoyishly!" said Lopez, lighting a cigarette.
Gilbert went over and stared down at the mute frame. "He's dead," he announced. "Completely. Pedro never misses," was the bandit's only comment.
"But to kill a man—like that! In cold blood!" Hardy gasped. "Oh, it's horrible!"
"Why not?" Lopez wanted to know. "Ze skindler, ze coward what beat his wife. Was evil man." What white-livered folk these Americans were!