Publisher's Synopsis
THE dark face vanished. Dick Gale heard footsteps and the tinkle of spurs. He strode to the window, and was in time to see a Mexican swagger into the front door of the saloon. Dick had only a glimpse; but in that he saw a huge black sombrero with a gaudy band, the back of a short, tight-fitting jacket, a heavy pearl-handled gun swinging with a fringe of sash, and close-fitting trousers spreading wide at the bottom. There were men passing in the street, also several Mexicans lounging against the hitching-rail at the curb."Did you see him? Where did he go?" whispered Thorne, as he joined Gale. "Those Greasers out there with the cartridge belts crossed over their breasts-they are rebels.""I think he went into the saloon," replied Dick. "He had a gun, but for all I can see the Greasers out there are unarmed.""Never believe it! There! Look, Dick! That fellow's a guard, though he seems so unconcerned. See, he has a short carbine, almost concealed.... There's another Greaser farther down the path. I'm afraid Rojas has the house spotted.""If we could only be sure.""I'm sure, Dick. Let's cross the hall; I want to see how it looks from the other side of the house."
