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Something might turn up yet to save him. When Pasquale found that only an insignificant peon Pedro Cabenza had been taken in his dragnet, he exploded with fury. He ordered the man shot against the nearest wall at once. Culvera turned the prisoner so that the moon fell full upon his face. He looked searchingly at him. Yeager knew that he was discovered. He spoke in English.
"Pedro Cabenza, or Yeager, or whatever you call yourself, you have been tried for rebellion, insubordination, and conspiracy to kill General Pasquale. You have been sentenced to be shot at sunset. The order of the military court will be carried out as decreed." The cowpuncher took it without the twitching of a muscle in the brown face.
Nobody paid the least attention to him except to require of him the not very arduous duties of camp service. Presently Pasquale would move south and renew the campaign. Meanwhile his troopers had an indolent, easy time of it. On the evening of the day after his enlistment Pedro Cabenza strolled across toward the prison where he had been told two Americans were held captive.
One of the guards pulled him back savagely. "Icabron! Know you not the orders of the general? None are to talk with the Gringos. Away, fool! Because of the drink Pablo and I will forget. Away!" Cabenza showed a face ludicrously terror-stricken. The punishments of Pasquale were notoriously severe. If it were known he had broken the command he would at least be beaten with whips. "I did not know.
Cabenza became at once an unobtrusive unit in the army. He could lie for hours and bask in the sunshine with the patient content of the Mexican peon. He could eat frijoles and tortillas week in and week out, offering no complaint at the monotony of his diet. He was as lazy, as hopeful, and as unambitious as several thousand other riders of the Legion.
"Si, señor." The prizefighter gave him a dollar. "Stay here. Keep an eye on that lighted window upstairs. If anything happens if you hear a noise if a woman screams, come and knock me up right away. Understand?" The docile Cabenza repeated his instructions like a parrot. "Good enough," Harrison nodded. "I'll give you another dollar when you come. But don't wake me for nothing." "No, señor."
The general himself, accompanied by Major Ochampa, sat in the saddle and scowled at the farmer. The latter told his story, almost in tears. This was all he had, these chicken, cabbages, and apples. He had brought them down to sell and was going to enlist. His Excellency would understand that he, Pedro Cabenza, was a patriot, but, behold! he had been robbed.
I execute Pedro Cabenza, a peon, enlisted in the Army of the North, because he plotted with the foes of the Republic and helped prisoners escape, and because he conspired to assassinate our glorious chief, General Pasquale." Ramon put his forearm on the table and leaned forward with an ironic smile. "But your point is well made, Pedro. Lies spread on the wings of the wind.
He patted his fat paunch contentedly and handed the bottle to his companion. The second guard also drank deeply. Cabenza put an arm across the shoulders of each and drew their heads close while he whispered confidential scandal about Pasquale and Ramon Culvera. The two men listened greedily, eager for more.
The hearing of the man holding the horse was acute and he listened intently. "Señor Harrison sends greeting to the general. He is in touch with the play-actor Lennox and hopes soon to get the Gringo Yeager. If Lennox plays false...." The words ran into a murmur and Cabenza could hear no more. The messenger was dismissed. Cabenza stooped to tie a loose lace in his shoe.
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