“You have satisfaction, Señor Rocha?” one of the chiefs asked.
“Things appear to be as I had wished,” was the reply. “We will attack to-morrow night, as we have planned. The men have all arrived?”
“Except perhaps half a hundred who will be here by morning,” said a chief. “A scout came in some time ago, with the report that they are preparing for defence at the mission.”
“Hah! Small good it will do them, except to cause us more annoyance.”
“A soldier warned them, señor, it is said—a big soldier who belongs not to the presidio here, but at Santa Barbara.”
“I know him; I expected as much. Do some of you remember this certain soldier when we attack, and take account of him. There has been nothing seen of the man who tricked you?”
“None have seen him, señor. Either he has ridden up El Camino Real to spread the alarm, or else is hiding in the hills.”
“He is not to be slain, remember. I want that word passed around. That man is mine when we take him prisoner. Small wonder it is that he did not ruin our plans!”
“How were we to know, señor? Those at the mission treated him like a pestilence, and he led our men to believe he was who he seemed. We did not guess until he came here to the cañon and escaped when we would have held him prisoner. Yet he is an outlaw now—both white men and red seek him.”
“There is amusement to be found in that fact,” was the laughing reply. “Remember that man is mine when he is taken. And remember, also, what I said about a guard to be left behind here at the rancho. The women in the ranch-house are to be kept in their room, and no one is to enter. No harm is to be offered them. The younger one is to be my wife, you understand, and the elder must remain with her to keep her from being frightened.”