“Colonel Don Alverado will never find Black Ramon or see his daughter again if a hundred thousand pesos are not forthcoming before the end of the week,” was the rejoinder.
In speaking these last words Ramon had unconsciously raised his voice, and the rancheros, with faces full of alarm, stepped forward.
“Hush! for heaven’s sake not so loud!” the woman exclaimed, “there are several Gringoes in the house!”
Ramon’s face grew black.
“Gringoes!” he snarled, “what do you mean by admitting the Yankee pigs when I have paid you well for the use of your house?”
“But they are here only for the night and are sound asleep,” protested the male ranchero. “Depend on it, they will not interfere. They are pressing on toward Santa Anita to-morrow at dawn.”
“And then, too, they have a belt full of money, Senor Ramon,” whined the woman, “there is no reason why your excellent self should not have it. We had that idea in our head when we consented to let them stop here.”
“Oh, so that’s the reason you suddenly became willing to let us stop,” thought Jack in his hiding place.
But Ramon was now leaning forward with a sudden expression of keen interest.
“These Gringoes, old woman,” he asked, “tell me, are they three boys, a tough-looking, long-legged man with a yellow moustache, and a spectacled old man?”