"Was it an Apache cry, Jim?" asked Pen.
"Yes! Old Suma-theek, with a bunch of his Indians has been riding the upper mesa for me tonight. Just to watch Mexico City. I told him to keep things quiet, so there must have been some imperative reason for the cry. I'll take you to the upper camp and get my horse."
Jim breathed a sigh of relief as they cleared the crowd and could quicken their pace. But they were scarcely out of the range of the arc light when a dark group ran hurriedly down from the mesa back of the town. It was old Suma-theek with four of his Indians. They held, tightly bound with belts and bandanas, two disheveled little hombres.
"Take 'em to jail, Boss?" panted Suma-theek. "I find 'em trying get back to lower town!"
"No! No! Back up into the mountains. I'll get horses to you and you must take them to Cabillo. Lord, I forgot to warn you!"
Suma-theek turned quickly but not quickly enough. A man ran up to the little group then plunged back toward the hall.
"A rope!" he yelled. "Bring a rope. They've got the two hombres."
Men seemed to spring up out of the ground.
"Run, Pen, toward the upper camp!" cried Jim.
"I won't!" exclaimed Pen. "They won't shoot while a woman is standing here."