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All right: She is planning a revolution; she has the mad idea that she can rip Lower California away from the government and make of it a separate empire, herself its queen!" "Why not? Wilder things have been done. And where would you find a more likely queen?" "When I first saw her she came, disguised as a man, into Ortega's gaming hell, Rios with her.
It warnt no trouble to make him promise to keep his mouth shet; he's more afraid of the priest than he is of his father's green-hide lariat, and that's sayin' a heap. When I went back to the Mission I told the priest that I thought as how I'd go on to Ortega's, and see if you got there all right.
It was in the air that there would be big play, and men crowded around. Briefly, the unusual presence of a woman, here at Fat Ortega's, was forgotten. "Select the lucky cube," Kendric invited Rios. The Mexican's slim brown fingers drew one of the dice toward him, choosing at random.
"That will I," replied Jose; and giving his horse's sides a sharp punch with his knees, set off at full gallop westward. "I have sent Jose with a message to Temecula," said Alessandro, walking up to Fernando. "He will be back here tomorrow noon, and join you at the Ortega's the next morning." "Back here by noon to-morrow!" exclaimed Fernando. "Not unless he kills his horse!"
Meanwhile Ortega's place had been doing an increasing business. Now there was desultory playing at several tables where men were placing their bets at poker, at seven-and-a-half and at roulette; the faro layout would be offering its invitation in a moment; there was a game of dice in progress. Kendric's companions moved about from table to table laughing, making small bets or merely watching.
Only when the approaching rider came close and threw up a gauntleted hand to the wide black hat, saluting laughingly, did they recognize this for the same youth who had come with Ruiz Rios to Ortega's gambling house. "Zoraida Castelmar!" gasped Kendric. Turning in his amazement to his companion he caught a strange look in Barlow's eyes, a strange flush in Barlow's cheeks.
"Where shall we go?" asked the others, who, however, felt a quickening of blood and muscle at the thought that the priest might be under their feet even then. "How near is the next rancho, and whose is it?" "A league beyond the Mission grant. It is Don Juan Ortega's." "Very well, we go there and ask for horses."
No one needed to be told what it meant: the Warrenia had run upon a mud bank and was fast. "Captain Ortega's performance over again!" said Major Starland, "with the exception that he did it on purpose and I don't think you did." "I am somewhat of the same opinion myself," growled the Captain, "but here we must stay for several hours at the least."
Long ago Ortega and Tony had quarreled and when Tony had run away with Eloisa, Ortega's pretty daughter, men said it was as much to spite the old man as for love of the girl's snapping eyes. Tony might play, if Ortega refused. "One throw for the whole thing, Ortega?" challenged Kendric. "You and me." "Have I twenty thousand pesos in my pocket?" jeered Ortega. "You make me the big gringo bluff."
Never had there been a game like this at Ortega's. Men packed closer and closer, pushing and crowding. The Mexican slowly rattled the single die in the cup. Then, with a quick jerk of the wrist, he turned it out on the table. It rolled, poised, settled. The result amply satisfied Rios and to the line of the lips under his small black mustache came the hint of a smile; he had turned up a six.
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