"All right, amigo. But it isn't fate. It's making fool mistakes when you or your countrymen tackle a job like Vaca tackled. Just get me a couple of blankets. I'll sleep out here to-night."
Juan Armigo plodded to the adobe. The lamplight showed his face beaded with sweat. He shuffled to an inner room, and came out with blankets on his arm. Vaca lay on a bed-roll in the corner of the larger room, and near him stood Ramon.
"The señor sleeps with the horses," said Armigo significantly.
Ramon bent his head and muttered a prayer.
"And if you pray," said Armigo, shifting the blankets from one arm to the other, "pray then that the two horses that you borrowed may return. As for your Uncle José, he will not die."
"And we shall be taken to the prison," said Ramon."
"You should have killed the gringo." And Armigo's tone was matter-of-fact. "Or perhaps told him where you had hidden the gold. He might have let you go, then."
Ramon shook his head. Armigo's suggestion was too obviously a question as to the whereabouts of the stolen money.
The wounded man opened his eyes. "I have heard," he said faintly. "Tell the gringo that I will say where the money is hidden if he will let me go."
"It shall be as you wish," said Armigo, curious to learn more of the matter.