The Texan shook his head. "I'm playin' a lone hand, Red. Yo' job is to line out yo' steers and get 'em back to the Diamond D feedin' grounds. Adios, amigos!"
And Kid Wolf, on his fleet white horse, swung off to the westward.
Gentleman John sat up suddenly in his bed and opened his eyes. The moon had gone down, and all was pitch dark. It was nearly morning.
He had heard something—for Gentleman John was a light sleeper. He listened intently, then sat on the edge of his bed to draw on his boots. The sound came again from the direction of the patio. Had his man, José, forgotten to lock the gate? Surely he had heard the chain rattling! Some horse, no doubt, or possibly a mule, had strayed into the little courtyard. Perhaps it was some of his men returning. And yet hardly that, for they would not dare disturb him at such an hour, but would go to their quarters behind the house until daybreak. Tiptoeing to the door, he put his ear to it. He heard faint noises, as if some one were moving about.
"José!" Gentleman John called angrily. "What are yuh fumblin' at in there? What's the matter? Me oye usted?"
There was no reply, and Gentleman John went to one corner of his room, scratched a sulphur match, and with its sputtering flame he lighted a small lamp by his bedside. Then he slyly drew a derringer from under his pillow. Again he went to the door, putting his hand on the knob.
"José! Come here!" he cried, with an oath.
The door swung open, and the lamplight shone on a human face—a face that was not José's, but a stern white one with glinting blue eyes!
"José can't come," said a voice in a soft drawl. "He's tied up. But if I will do as well, I am at yo' service, sah!"
The color fled from Gentleman John's amazed face.