“Steady!” gritted Mustang Max. “Don’t fire until I give the word, and then make sure of your mark.”
[CHAPTER XXIX.]
SINYARO.
How anxiously did the good people of the little village watch for the return of Pedro, when the sun’s declining rays heralded the approach of evening.
If he should fail to bring rescuers within the hour they would be forced to behold the melancholy spectacle of seeing his aged parents slaughtered before their eyes.
They knew that Sinyaro would carry out his horrible threat, for since his first appearance in the neighborhood, some three years previously, he had committed over a hundred bold and cold-blooded outrages.
No wonder they looked anxiously for the coming of the son who was to bring rescue and hope in his wake.
Longer and longer grew the slanting red beams, and the afternoon was wearing slowly away.
In two directions were the eyes of the many watchers turned.
They looked hopefully for Pedro from one way, and fearfully for Sinyaro from the other.