She hesitated.
“That can make no difference,” she said presently.
“It makes a difference to us. I told you to tell the truth, or——”
The Mexican raised his rifle that she might guess the rest.
“I did not want to have to explain how I knew about you. I did not want Mr. Pennington to know that I knew such men as Allen.”
“How did you know Allen?”
“That has nothing to do with it at all. I have warned you so that you can take steps to avoid discovery and capture. I shall tell no one else about you. Now let me go.”
She gathered Baldy and tried to rein him about, but the man clung to her bridle.
“Not so much of a hurry, señorita! Unless I know how Allen told you so much, I cannot believe that he told you anything. The police have many ways of learning things—sometimes they use women. If you are a friend to Allen, all right. It you are not, you know too damn much for to be very good for your health. You had better tell me all the truth, or you shall not ride away from here—ever!”
“Very well,” she said. “I met Allen in a house in Hollywood where he sold his ‘snow,’ and I heard him telling the man there how you disposed of the whisky that was stolen in New York, brought here to the coast in a ship, and hidden in the mountains.”