"Here, get me a horse, some of you—Tito, Miguel, Alejandro. Go get me the mare of the Americano, and mount yourselves, too." And he himself started out towards the acequia to look at the tracks. Several Indians ran towards the corrals.
"The saddle," said one; "we want a saddle; go get yours, Alejandro. You live nearest."
"Hadn't we better tell the Americano," said Tito, "before we take his mare? Maybe he won't like to lend her."
"But he must lend her," retorted Miguel impatiently. "The cacique wants her. Isn't that enough?"
By this time they had arrived at the bars of the corral where the prospector kept his stock, and they stopped to wait for Alejandro to bring the saddle. Tito took advantage of the delay to act on his own motion, and darting over to the door of Stephens's dwelling began to knock vigorously.
"Hullo! who's there?" called out Stephens in response to the knocking. He was still between the blankets, and had not yet turned out.
"The cacique wants your mare," cried Tito through the keyhole.
"Wants my what?" exclaimed Stephens, who failed to catch his words exactly. "Open the door, can't you, and let me hear what you've got to say," he added, sitting up in bed.
Tito held the door ajar and put half his face into the aperture. He had a wholesome respect for Faro and did not care to adventure farther.