“Partly,” replied the leader. “But you heard him say he did not know who I am. Well, I am one of his uncle’s closest friends. I learned this morning that Pedro,” and he pointed at the boy, “was getting into bad company, and so came out to look for him. I found him in bad company and told him he must come home with me. He refused and rode away. I then started after him. If I were not his uncle’s friend, do you think I would have his uncle’s peons with me?”
“It hardly seems so,” replied Donald; “but, if
you are such a good friend of his uncle, it’s a wonder he does not know you. How about that, Pedro,” and he again turned to the boy.
“It’s all a lie,” was the emphatic reply. “I was out watching the men at work at the foot of the mountains this morning, when this man rode up. He told me to come with him. Never having seen him, I refused, whereupon he threatened to flog me. I jumped on my horse and rode away. A few minutes later he came after me, making all sorts of threats. Then he summoned the peons and chased me. They seem to do everything he tells them, but I do not know why.”
“It sure is a queer mix-up,” said Donald to his companions, in English, “and I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll tell you what,” exclaimed Billie, after the matter had been fully explained to him, “let’s all ride back to his uncle’s, wherever that is, and see what he says.”
“Why, sure,” said Donald. “Billie, you’ll make a judge some day. We’ll go at once.”
When the proposed plan was explained to the Mexicans, both sides to the controversy quickly acquiesced, and, turning their horses about, the combined parties started toward the mountains, Pedro leading the way.
The road ran along the bank of the Concho for a couple of miles, and then turned abruptly toward
the foothills. It was a beautiful valley, and the Broncho Rider Boys were much interested in the scenery. They passed several small groups of adobe houses, which Pedro explained were on his uncle’s estate, which seemed very large.