"Take to cover, lads," ordered the skipper, who was as quick to hear as the younger man. The only cover was a high and thick growth of wild mustard growing alongside the fences.
Quickly they stepped from the open road into the shelter of the tall mustard. They had not long to wait. There was the jingle of spurs and the thud of horses' feet walking slowly along. Next came the voices of men talking.
"It is useless, Senor, to try and find her, I fear," replied one man to the other.
"It seems so," replied the other sadly. "My mother always seems to be worse when the time of the year approaches that my father disappeared. In spite of all our care she will escape."
They had now arrived at a point opposite where the free-booters were hidden. The man who had last spoken struck a light and lit a cigarette; the instantaneous glare showed the dark handsome face of the Spanish type. There was the high-peaked sombrero, the striking clothes, the intent face and then the light died suddenly out.
"Ah, Manuel," said the young man to his companion, "if I could only once lay hands on that cursed Gringo," and he ground his teeth in fury, unable to express himself.
"Humph, Gringo," grunted the Captain, disdainfully.
"Did you hear anything, Senor?" asked Manuel.
"Nothing."
"I was sure I heard something," asserted his companion. They had reined in their horses and sat listening quietly for a few seconds.