"But where is the Aztec?" queried Billie. "I know him not."
"I am he. The peons are my people. The Spaniard—bah! He owns the houses and he owns the lands; but he must be driven out."
"Isn't that what Villa says?"
"Villa? Villa?" again repeated Santiago, and again he lapsed into silence.
For some minutes he remained motionless ere he stepped back, picked up his rifle and started for a door leading to a stairway.
"Come!" he commanded. "I will show you."
"Hadn't we better take care of the horse first?" asked Billie, not at all anxious to be wandering around with an armed lunatic. "He may die."
"What is a horse when the future of Mexico is at stake, my son? Come with me and you shall hear a strange tale."
"I have heard one already," was Billie's mental comment, but realizing by the term son which Santiago had applied to him that he was in no immediate danger and trusting to his wits to finally overcome the strange man should it become necessary, he followed.
At the head of the stairs was another door, which Santiago opened and entered. It was a sort of ante-room, much like the entrance into a lodge room. Around the walls was a motley collection of firearms, swords, spears and smaller weapons.