"Be sure you don't stay out there—at the end of a rope," smiled the Mexican.
"They haven't grown the hemp yet that will hang Chad Harrison." The prizefighter leaned toward him, eyes shining. "If I pull it off and make my getaway—what then? Will you send the girl to me, wherever I am?"
"You mean, if you—"
"—Give Pasquale what's been coming to him for a long time."
The eyes of Culvera were slits of light. His face was a brown mask that covered an alert and wary attention.
"I didn't hear what you said, amigo. It is better that I shouldn't. But if I had charge of the army instead of General Pasquale my policy would be different. I would return this Arizona girl to her home."
"To her home!" broke in Harrison harshly.
"To her husband," amended the Mexican significantly, adding after an instant—"who is a good friend of mine."
"You'll stand pat on that, will you?"
"It would be my purpose to reward my friends—those who have helped the cause—if by any chance command of the Legion should fall to me."