"I would not have told you this," continued de Armijo, "had you not caught me in an attempt to take your papers. Had it been peace, 'steal' would have been the word, but since it is war 'steal' turns to enterprise and zeal. Had I not believed you ignorant that the war has begun, and that I might make more profit out of you in our hands than as a fugitive, or at least as one who might have escaped, I should have opened fire upon you as you approached. Perhaps I made a mistake."
"All of us do at times," said Middleton thoughtfully.
"Well spoken," said de Armijo. He lighted a cigarette and took a few easy puffs.
"Well, Captain Middleton," he said at length, "the problem is now yours, not ours. You have taken it out of our hands. What are you going to do with us?"
"It seems to me," said Captain Middleton, "that this problem, like most others, admits of only one solution. You are our prisoners, but we cannot hold you. Our own situation prevents it. We could kill you, but God forbid a single thought of such a crime. We will take your arms and let you go. You will not suffer without your arms, as your Comanche friends are near, a fact which you know very well."
"We accept your terms," said de Armijo, "since we must, and with your permission we will mount our horses and ride away. But it is to be understood, Captain Middleton, and you, young Mr. Bedford, and the rest of you, that we part as enemies and not as friends."
"As you will," said Middleton. "I recognize the fact that you have no cause to love us, and perhaps the sooner we both depart from this spot the better it will be for all."
"But we may meet again on the battlefield; is it not so?" said de Armijo.
"That, I cannot tell," replied Middleton, "but it is not unlikely."
Breakstone and Arenberg still stood by the captured arms, but, without casting a glance at either the arms or their guardians, de Armijo signaled to his men, and they mounted and rode away.