"Travelling."
"Where are you going?"
"Going to try and mind our own business."
"Where did you come from?"
"Across the border. Driven out of the mines by Apaches. Didn't expect to find Mexican regular cavalry worse than the redskins."
"We will see about that, señor. You are our prisoners."
"All right, so long as none of you come too near. It won't be healthy for any of you to try."
"No harm is intended you, señor. We are sent to guard this frontier against the Apaches, and to put down a small pronunciamento."
Captain Skinner knew what that meant. There had been some sort of a little revolution in that part of Mexico, and he and his men were suspected of having crossed the border to take part in it.
"All right, colonel. All we want is to march right along. We can pay our own way."