Scouts are distributed over this region. The mad wolf of the Sierras is at last to be hunted to his lair.
The unknown retreat must be in the Sierras. He determines to throw his own command over the valley towards the unvisited Lagunitas rancho. Padre Francisco will be there, a good adviser. Valois, the rich and successful lawyer, is another man from the penniless prisoner of seven years before. Knowing the hatred of Don Miguel for the Americans, he has never revisited the place. Still he would like to meet the beloved padre again. He will not uselessly enrage the gloomy lord of Lagunitas. Don Miguel is a hermit now.
Three days' march, skilfully concealed, brings him to the notched pass, where Lagunitas lies under its sentinel mountains.
Brooding over the past, thinking of the great untravelled regions behind the grant, stories from the early life of Don Miguel haunt the sleepless hours of the anxious young Southern leader. He lies under the stars, wrapped in his blankets. Lagunitas, once more!
Up before day, filing through light forest and down the passes of the foothills, the command threads its way. Valois calls his leading subordinates together. He arranges the visit to the ranch. He sends a squad of five to ride down the roads a few miles, and meet any scouts or vedettes of the other Southern party. Valois directs his men where to rejoin him. He points out, a few miles ahead, a rocky cliff, behind which the rolling hills around Lagunitas offer several hidden approaches to the rancho. Cautiously leading his men, to avoid a general alarm, he skirts the woods. The party rides in Indian file, to leave a light trail only.
Before the frowning cliff is neared, Valois' keen eye sees his scouts straggling back. They are galloping at rapid speed, making for the cliff. The whole command, with smoking steeds, soon joins the scouts. With them are two of Love's outriders. The bandits are near at hand. For the scouts, riding up all night from Love's body, have taken the main road. Within ten miles they find several dead men—the ghastly handiwork of Joaquin. Their breathless report is soon over. Detaching ten fresh men, with one of the news-bearers, to join Love and bring him up post-haste, Maxime Valois orders every man to prepare his girths and arms for action. Guided by the other scouts, the whole command pricks briskly over to the concealment of a rolling valley. There is but one ridge between it, now, and Lagunitas.
Maxime calls up his aids. He gives them his rapid directions. Only the previous knowledge of the ex-pathfinder enabled him to throw his men behind the sheltering ridge, unseen from the old Don's headquarters.
In case of meeting any robbers, the subordinates are to seize and hold the ranch with ten determined men. He throws the rest out in a strong line, to sweep east and south, till Love's column is met. Winding into the glen, Valois takes five men and mounts the ridge.
He now skilfully nears the crest of the ridge. The main command is moving slowly, a few hundred yards below. With the skill of the old scout of the plains, he brings his little squad up to the shoulder of the ridge to the south of the rancho. Dismounting, Indian-like, he crawls up to the summit, from which the beautiful panorama of glittering Lagunitas lies before him. By his side is a tried friend. A life and death supporter.
Lagunitas again! It is backed by the forest, where swaying pines are singing the same old song of seven long years ago. His eye sweeps over the scene.