“Jose!” said the girl.
The old man rose to his feet and came toward her.
“Eh? Senorita, eh?” he cackled.
“You are Jose?” she asked.
“Si, senorita,” replied the old Indian. “What can poor old Jose do to serve the beautiful senorita?”
“You can carry a message to one of Pesita's officers,” replied the girl. “I have heard much about you since I came to Mexico. I know that there is not another man in this part of Chihuahua who may so easily reach Pesita as you.” She raised her hand for silence as the Indian would have protested. Then she reached into the pocket of her riding breeches and withdrew a handful of silver which she permitted to trickle, tinklingly, from one palm to the other. “I wish you to go to the camp of Pesita,” she continued, “and carry word to the man who robbed the bank at Cuivaca—he is an American—that his friend, Senor Bridge has been captured by Villa and is being held for execution in Cuivaca. You must go at once—you must get word to Senor Bridge's friend so that help may reach Senor Bridge before dawn. Do you understand?”
The Indian nodded assent.
“Here,” said the girl, “is a payment on account. When I know that you delivered the message in time you shall have as much more. Will you do it?”
“I will try,” said the Indian, and stretched forth a clawlike hand for the money.
“Good!” exclaimed Barbara. “Now start at once,” and she dropped the silver coins into the old man's palm.