Steve gave no sign that he heard. He understood perfectly that the ingenuity of Pasquale would make the day one long succession of tortures for him. It was up to him to mask his face and manner with the stoicism of an Apache.
At a little distance he saw Farrar and Threewit, both of them very anxious and pale. He would have called a greeting to them except that he was afraid it might prejudice their chances.
Captain Holcomb passed in front of him and stopped.
"Mornin', Steve," he said.
"Mornin', captain." The haggard eyes of the cowpuncher asked a question before his lips framed it. "Can't you do anything for the little girl? Has this hellish thing got to go through?"
"The prisoner will keep silent," snapped the Mexican sergeant.
Holcomb looked at the man with eyes of chill authority. "When I speak to the prisoner he answers. Understand?"
"Si, señor," muttered the sergeant, taken aback. "But the general said—"
"Forget it," cut in the Texan crisply. He turned to Yeager and spoke deliberately, looking straight at him. "Pasquale is going through with this thing. Just as sure as the old reprobate is alive the padre will marry your little friend to him within half an hour."
Was Captain Holcomb giving him a message? Steve did not know. It seemed to him that there was some hidden meaning in the long look of the steady eyes.