“Well, you see,” responded the man addressed as Canfield, slowly, “Ruggles and I had roughed it together a bit, and I reckon he was a little off his head with worry and the approach of the fever when I met him in El Paso. Anyhow, he spun out the whole yarn, with the exception of the plan.”
“We can do without that,” said Black Ramon, “I have often heard of the Trembling Mountain, and can, I believe, find it without difficulty. But you are sure that Senor Stetson has the plan?”
“I know it for a fact. That was the reason that I hastened to dig you up as soon as I knew he was fitting out an expedition to go after the treasure. I thought you were the most likely man in Mexico to carry out the job.”
“And you were not mistaken, Senor Canfield,” rejoined the other with a gratified smile. “If the treasure is there we will get it out, even if it were only to obtain revenge on those Gringoes, Jack Merrill and his chums. They drove me off the border, they tricked me in Chihuahua, but now the cards have changed, and I hold the trumps. But you are certain we are far ahead of them?”
“Positive,” was the rejoinder, “they are at least two days’ march behind, and with our swift animals we shall make the strike first, do not fear.”
Jack was puzzled.
Clearly, from what he had heard, the Mexican leader knew nothing of their doings, but that they had started from Esmedora. On the other hand, it appeared equally positive that Canfield was the man who had carried the message into their camp the night before and created so much excitement. Jack noticed now, too, as a further means of identification, that Canfield’s hand was bandaged. Ramon seemed to notice this also at the same instant.
“Your hand is hurt, senor,” he said sharply, with a suspicious inflection.
“I cut it this morning while closing my knife,” rejoined Canfield glibly.