"Juan Cateras, the little devil," muttered Sikes, as the rider drew nearer. "There's some pot brewing if he is in it."
The rider drew up his horse, and lifted his hat, his smiling lips revealing a row of white teeth.
"A pleasant day, señor," he said graciously, his dark eyes searching the faces of the two men, and then dwelling with interest on the woman. "Ah, your pardon, señorita; your presence is more than welcome here." He rested one hand on the wagon box, the expression of his face hardening. "Yet an explanation might not be out of place—the Señor Mendez may not be pleased."
"We came under orders from Lacy," replied Moore confidently. "You have seen us both before."
"True, but not the lady; you will tell me about her?"
Sikes climbed down over the wheel.
"It is like this, señor," he began. "Lacy did not know your party was here; he thought you were all south for another month yet. He would keep this girl quiet, out of the way for a time. She is from New York, and knows too much."
"From New York?" The quick eyes of the Mexican again sought her face.
"She is to be held prisoner?"
"Yes, señor."
"Again the case of that man Cavendish?"