Inland they tramped, mile after mile, keeping to the cañons, following an arroyo now and then, dodging from dark spot to dark spot, while Barbados growled curses at the bright moon and Sanchez continually admonished the men behind to keep silent.
It was a journey they disliked, but they liked to think of the loot they would find at the end of it. On they went, toward the sleeping town of Reina de Los Angeles. Besides Barbados and Sanchez, few of them had seen the town. Pirates had been treated harshly there when they had wandered inland. But now something had happened, it appeared, that made a raid on the town a comparatively safe enterprise.
An hour before dawn they stumbled across a native, caught him as he started to flee, and left his lifeless body behind. Then came the day, and they went into hiding in a jumble of hills, within easy striking distance of the town. They had covered ground well.
Sprawled on the sward they slept. Barbados, a little way aside, consulted his poor map once more, and then called Sanchez to his side.
“Since we may have to split our force, it were well that you knew more of this business,” he said.
“I am listening, Barbados.”
“This man who is to meet us to-morrow night at the edge of the town is a high official.”
“I have heard you call him the Governor’s man.”
“Even so. He is to have matters arranged so that the town will be at our mercy. It never has been raided properly. It will be necessary, perhaps, to steal horses, and possibly a carreta or two in which to carry the loot. The town will be wide open for us, my friend.”
“There is a presidio in Reina de Los Angeles, and where there is a presidio there are soldiers,” Sanchez reminded him.