In the insurrections and raidings of the previous summer he had given the coup de grâce with his revolver to more than one embryo bandit, and in his love-affairs he had shown that he could be equally summary.
The elegant Feliz Luna, who for a time had lingered near the charming Gracia, had finally found himself up against a pair of pistols with the option of either fighting Captain del Rey or returning to his parents. The young man concluded to beat a retreat. For a like offense Philip De Lancey had been unceremoniously thrown into jail; and now the capitan turned his attention to Bud Hooker, whose mind he had not yet fathomed.
"Excuse me, señor," he said, after a brief silence, "but your words left me in doubt—whether to regard you as a friend or a rival."
"What?" demanded Bud, whose knowledge of Spanish did not extend to the elegancies.
"You said," explained the captain politely, "that your friend had promised you he would not trouble the lady further. Does that mean that you are interested in her yourself, or merely that you perceive the hopelessness of his suit and wish to protect him from a greater evil that may well befall him? For look you, señor, the girl is mine, and no man can come between us!"
"Huh!" snorted Bud, who caught the last all right. Then he laughed shortly and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly, "but he will stay away, all right."
"Muy bien," responded Del Rey carelessly and, dismounting at the jail, he threw open the door and stood aside for his rival to come out.
"Muchas gracias, Señor Capitan," saluted Bud, as the door clanged to behind his pardner. But Phil still bristled with anger and defiance, and the captain perceived that there would be no thanks from him.
"It is nothing," he replied, bowing politely, and something in the way he said it made De Lancey choke with rage. But there by the cárcel door was not the place for picking quarrels. They went to the hotel, where Don Juan, all apologies for his apparent neglect—which he excused on the ground that De Lancey had been held incomunicado—placated them as best he could and hurried on to the news.
"My gracious, Don Felipe," he cried, "you don't know how sorry I was to see you in jail, but the captain's orders were that no one should go near you—and in Mexico we obey the rurales, you know. Otherwise we are placed against a wall and shot.