"How should I know?" asked Strong. "There's more of a mix in this business than I can straighten out. It looks to me as though more than one man had his grudge against this fine feathered bird that came down to show us how to tackle Apaches," and Bright changed the subject, as was his way when men or women ventured to question the methods of the Powers. All the same, he told his general of Strong's suspicions, and that night the general summoned both Sanchez and Strong, and there was a scene in the moonlight, down by the old log guard-house.
Sanchez, heavily shackled and scared almost out of his wits in the belief that he would speedily be hanged, or shot to death, fell on his knees at sight of the tall, bearded commander, and strove to seize his hand. In the indescribable jargon of the Indo-Mexican frontier, he implored the general's mercy; he wailed that he was a poor and wronged and innocent man. He had no thought of killing—only inducing the interpreter to leave him, and the interpreter tried to shoot him. It was to save his own life he slashed at his guardian and ran, never knowing he had hurt him. He was frightened at McDowell; thought soldiers planned to lynch him. He dared not stay. He had filed his shackles and the window bars, and was watching opportunity to tear them loose and run, when 'Tonio was put in his cell. That night he saw his chance, climbed out and slid away to the mountains, just before the third relief was inspected, but he did not wake or tell 'Tonio. 'Tonio was a wicked Indian, who twice tried to kill Lieutenant Willett. 'Tonio should be hanged. 'Tonio's people hated Sanchez, because he "always friend to the Big Chief Crook and the Americanos." 'Tonio knew where to find him, it seems, and set Lieutenant Harris to catch him. Now, said Sanchez, if Big Chief only would let him go he would bring in two, three 'Patchie-Mohaves, 'Tonio's own people, who saw 'Tonio shoot and try to kill Teniente Willett—saw him shoot and club, shoot twice. Sanchez called on the Blessed Virgin and all the saints to witness his innocence, his entire truth, and the chief, with just one gesture of disbelief and disgust, turned quietly away.
"You may as well tell him, Wickham," said he, and, with Bright at his side, strode back to head-quarters hill, leaving Strong and his senior aide to settle the matter.
"You damned fool!" said Blackbeard contemptuously. "It wasn't 'Tonio; it was your own people gave you up. It wasn't 'Tonio; it was your own brother shot Teniente Willett. His own revolver was found at the spot. Your own people say he did it!"
"Lie! Lie!" shrieked Sanchez, livid from fright and amaze. "José no have pistol that night. José lose him to Case—monte—two days before! Case shoot him! Case shoot him! Muñoz see him. 'Patchie-Mohave see him! Look, Señor Capitan, I bring them all—all say so."
"I thought we'd be getting at bottom facts before we finished with our greaser gang," said Wickham, with no symptom of either surprise or emotion. "Very good, Sanchez. We'll give you the chance to swear to it and bring your witnesses. Take him in, sergeant, and keep this to yourself. Now bring out Dooley."
Half an hour later, just as the midnight call of the sentries was going the rounds, Hal Willett, after whispered words of good-night to a tall and slender shadow at Darrah's door, came swiftly up the steps of his new quarters, and was surprised to find a little group at the adjoining veranda. Two civilians were there, one of whom he knew to be the sheriff. Strong was there and Wickham was giving some instructions in low tone to the three.
"You start at dawn," were the words that caught Willett's ear, "and you should have him at Prescott within the week. Sure you need no further escort?"
"Sure," was the sententious answer of the tall civilian, as he sauntered to the steps.
"What is it?" asked Willett, at a venture.