"North—to the line," answered Bud, pointing up the pass.
"Muy malo!" frowned the Yaqui, glancing once more at the woman behind. "Muchos revoltosos!"
"Where?" asked Bud.
"Everywhere!" replied Amigo with a comprehensive wave of the hand. "But no matter," he added simply. "I will go with you. Who are these horsemen behind?"
"Rurales!" responded Hooker, and the Yaqui's black eyes dilated.
"Yes," nodded Bud as he read the swift question in their glance. "He is there, too—Del Rey!"
"Que bueno!" exclaimed the Indian, fixing his eagle glance upon the riders. He showed his white teeth in a smile. In an instant he saw his opportunity, he saw his enemy riding into a trap, and turned his face to the pass.
"Come!" he said, laying hold of a látigo strap, and as Hooker loped on up the steady incline he ran along at his stirrup. In his right hand he still carried the heavy Mauser, but his sandaled feet bore him forward with tireless strides, and only the heaving of his mighty chest told the story of the pace.
"Let me take your gun," suggested Hooker, as they set off on their race, but Amigo in his warrior's pride only shook his head and motioned him on and on. So at last they gained the rugged summit, where the granite ribs of the mountain crop up through the sands of the wash and the valley slopes away to the north. To the south was Del Rey, still riding after them, but Amigo beckoned Bud beyond the reef and looked out to the north.
"Revoltosos!" he exclaimed, pointing a sun-blackened hand at a distant ridge. "Revoltosos!" he said again, waving his hand to the east. "Here," waving toward the west, "no!"