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Updated: June 2, 2025
So Juan Cateras thought, and he took a step nearer, his thick, red lips curling with lust, eager to claim their rich reward. As they came closer Stella Donovan stiffened. "Look, señor," she whispered "behind you!" The Mexican in his eagerness was off his guard. He turned to look, and at that instant the girl drew back her sturdy arm and then brought it forward again with all her vigour. Cluk!
Another of these odd slits in the rock was visible here, and the girl was able to perceive more clearly its nature beyond question it was an artificial opening, leading into a space on the farther side of the wall. Cateras pushed past her, his body interfering with her view, and bent down, fumbling along the rock surface. "Hold the light closer," he demanded. "Aye, that's it.
"But he is in ill humour this morning, and took small interest in the affair. It was only when I promised to take full charge that he consented to your remaining at all. 'Tis my advice that you let well enough alone. You know who rules here." "If there is evil done, the debt will be paid." Cateras laughed, one hand at his incipient moustache. "Billy Lacy, you mean, no doubt.
I do not believe in prisoners, and because I do business with that dog is no reason why he is privileged to use this place to hold his victims. I have just despatched a messenger to Haskell to that effect, and we'll soon be rid of them. Where is Cateras?" "In the valley, señor! he went back down the passage with Silva after posting us here." "And the prisoners?" "Occupy the two inner cells.
Come, señorita, you are safe with me." Concealing a dread that was almost overpowering, yet realising the impossibility of resistance, Stella permitted him to touch her hand, and assist her to clamber over the wheel. The baffled, helpless rage in Moore's face was sufficient proof of the true power possessed by Cateras, that his was no idle boast.
With a spring forward the man had her in his grasp, all tiger now, the pretence at gentleness forgotten. He jerked her to her feet, with fingers clutching her neck mercilessly. "Here, Silva, Merodez," he cried, "come take this spitfire. Caramba! we'll teach her." Two men ran from between the huts and Cateras flung her, helpless from her choking, into their grasp.
Merodiz here says one of them is a girl." "A girl!" the tall man laughed. "That then will account for the unusual interest of Juan Cateras, and why he preferred being left in charge. A girl, hey, Merodiz! You saw the witch? What sort was she?" "An American, señor, young, and good to look at," the other man explained. "Her eyes as blue as the skies." "Good! 'tis not often the gods serve us so well.
To the marshal, crouching against the earth, his revolver drawn, horse and man appeared a grotesque shadow. "Hullo!" the fellow shouted. "What's up? Did you think this was Christmas Eve? Hey, there Mendez; Cateras." The little marshal straightened up, and took a step forward; the light from the cabin window glistened wickedly on the blue steel of his gun barrel.
"So, my pretty," sneered Cateras, "you have learned that Juan Cateras is not a man to trifle with. It is well." And, releasing his grip upon her, he allowed the girl to rise. As she stood there in the half light, her grey eyes flashing, her young bosom rising and falling, she was a vaguely defined but alluring figure.
Sikes leaned on his rifle waiting, and as Moore halted the panting team, and leaped over the wheel to the ground, Cateras came forth from one of the open doors and crossed the intervening space on foot. He was smoking a cigarette, the blue wreath of smoke circling above his head in the still air. "The lady is to be placed in my care," he said almost insolently. "Your hand, señorita."
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