CHAPTER XIX.
MERCILESS.
“Mendez, I have service for you to perform.”
The speaker was Kent King, the Gambler Guide, and he stood upon a rock that commanded the entrance to a cañon in his front, and from which he had a view of the prairie a mile beyond.
It was a wild, picturesque spot, the mountain retreat of the bandits, and a formidable position to attack. The night before, with twoscore of followers, he had gone to his retreat, after committing deeds of deviltry a savage would have revolted at.
Well he knew that the vigilantes would pursue him, and that once aroused they would hunt him and his band to the death. His men had urged that they keep the open trail and seek other scenes; but Kent King had an object in remaining, and was determined not to be driven from the neighborhood where dwelt Mary Hale.
Now, as he gazed far across the prairie, he saw a large body of horsemen approaching, and, with emotions of dread, he recognized in advance Captain Dash, the Texan, and his terrible Revolver Riders.
“We could hold out a week here, perhaps, but not longer, so I must act at once,” he said; and then, having made up his mind, apparently, he called to a villainous-looking Mexican standing near.
“Yes, señor chief, what would you have me do?” asked Mendez.
“Serve me well, and you shall have a golden reward; you have a fleet horse?”