"Captain, wake up!"
He springs to his feet. "What is it?" he cries.
"Half the men are gone, sir. They have stolen back to hang the old Spaniard. They think he has concealed Joaquin's treasures."
Valois rouses several tired friends.
"My horse!" he yells.
As he springs to the saddle, the sentinel tells him a friend disclosed the plot. Fear kept him silent till the mutineers stole away.
"There are yet two hours to day. Is there time?" Maxime stretches out in the gallop of a skilled plainsman. He must save the priest and the women at least.
The mutineers will wait till daylight for their swoop. They are mad with the thirst for the lost treasures of Joaquin.
On, on, with the swing of the prairie wolf, the young leader gallops. He rides down man after man. As he gallops he thinks of Se¤ora Juanita, the defenceless priest, the wounded old Commandante, and the sweet blossoming beauty of the Sierras, star-eyed young Dolores. They must be saved. On, on!
Day points over the hills as Maxime dashes into the unguarded plaza of the ranch. There are sounds of shots, yells, and trampling feet. He springs from his exhausted steed. The doors of the ranch-house give way. He rushes to the entrance, to find the rooms empty. In a moment he realizes the facts. He reaches the priest's house. Beating on the door, he cries: "Open quick! It is Valois." Springing inside he finds Padre Francisco, his eyes lit up with the courage of a gallant French gentleman.