Brevoort, silently eying Arguilla, saw through the scheme. Arguilla had determined to have both the money and the cattle. This explained his unwonted presence at the Ortez hacienda.
Arguilla took a stiff drink of whiskey, wiped his mustache and turned to Brevoort. "You have heard?" he said.
Brevoort knew enough Mexican to understand the question. "We'll tell Brent that everything is all right," he said easily. "But he's a dam' liar," he added in an undertone to Pete. Brevoort had made the mistake of assuming that because he did not understand Mexican, Arguilla did not understand English. Arguilla did not hear all that Brevoort said, but he caught the one significant word. His broad face darkened. These Gringoes knew too much! He would hold them until the cattle had been delivered—and then they could join his army—or be shot. A mere detail, in either event.
"Put these men under arrest!" he commanded the sentries. "If they escape—you are dead men."
"What's the idee—" began Pete, but the noble captain waved his hand, dismissing all argument, along with the sentries, who marched their prisoners to the stable and told them plainly that they had much rather shoot them than be bothered with watching them; a hint that Pete translated for Brevoort's benefit.
One of the sentries lighted a dusty lantern and, placing it on the floor of a box stall, relieved his captives of their belts and guns. The sentries squatted at the open end of the stall and talked together while Brevoort and Pete sat each in a corner staring at the lantern.
Presently Brevoort raised his head. "Find out if either of 'em sabe American talk," he whispered.
"You sabe my talk?" queried Pete.
One of the sentries turned to stare at Pete. The Mexican shook his head.
"You're a liar by the watch—and your father was a pig and the son of a pig, wasn't he?" asked Pete, smiling pleasantly.