Felipa nodded. "A very little," she said.
"Well, they think it's a lot."
"Who?"
"The fellers that's after him. They're goin' to hold him up fifteen miles out, down there by where the Huachuca road crosses. He's alone, ain't he?"
"Yes," said Felipa.
"How do you know this?"
"Old Manuel he told me. You don't know him. It's an old Greaser, friend of mine. He don't want no one to tell he told, they'd get after him. But it's so, all right. There's three of them."
A stable man passed the window. Felipa called to him. "Bring me my horse, quick, and mount four men! Don't take five minutes and be well armed," she ordered in a low voice. Hers was the twofold decision of character and of training that may not be disregarded. The man started on a run.
"What you goin' to do?" the boy asked. He was round-eyed with dismay and astonishment.
Felipa did not answer. She broke her revolver and looked into the chambers. Two of them were empty, and she took some cartridges from a desk drawer and slipped them in. The holster was attached to her saddle, and she rarely rode without it.