“Well, they sha’n’t do it—that’s settled. Before I will allow them to take these horses out of the country, I will hunt up the Don and blow the whole thing.”
“O, don’t do that,” pleaded the prisoner, who seemed terror-stricken at the bare thought. “He will shoot me.”
“I wouldn’t like to have you shot, Greaser,” replied Archie, “but I tell you that my horse is not going to Texas. There is one way in which you can save yourself, and that is by leading me out of this hole by the safest and most direct route. Then the Don need know nothing about it; but just as surely as I am captured down here, I’ll repeat to him every thing you have said to me.”
“I can’t lead you out,” replied Beppo. “The doors are all locked.”
“We don’t care if they are. I’ve got the keys.”
“You! Santa Maria!”
“It’s a fact,” answered Archie; “but how I got them I need not now stop to explain. What do you say, Greaser? Will you show me the way out?”
“Yes,” gasped the young Mexican, who knew, from the peremptory manner in which the pistol was pressed against his head, that it was dangerous to hesitate longer. “Don’t shoot! I will.”
“That’s all right,” said Archie. “Now, to put it out of your power to play any tricks upon me, I shall tie your hands behind your back with your own sash—so. Then I will take mine, and pass it around your ankles, in this way.”