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Ortega's sentence reads: "Deeming it useful to the service of God, the King, and the public weal, I sentence them to a violent death by two musket-shots on the 11th at 9 A.M., the troops to be present at the execution under arms also all the Christian rancherías subject to the San Diego Mission, that they may be warned to act righteously."
Their haste to begin on the Ortega sheep-shearing had suddenly faded from their minds. Only Alessandro hesitated. "It is a good six hours' ride to Ortega's," he said to the men. "You'll be late in, if you do not start now." "Supper will be ready in an hour," said Ramona. "Please let them stay; one hour can't make any difference." Alessandro smiled.
"There is another shearing yet, Father," he began, "at the Ortega's ranch. I had promised to go to them as soon as I had finished here, and they have been wroth enough with us for the delay already. It will not do to break the promise, Father." Father Salvierderra's face fell. "No, my son, certainly not," he said; "but could no one else take your place with the band?"
"Yes, Senorita, that is true; but I sent for it last night, and it is here." "Sent to Temecula and back already!" cried Ramona. "Yes, Senorita. Our ponies are swift and strong. They can go a hundred miles in a day, and not suffer. It was Jose brought it, and he is at the Ortega's by this time." Ramona's eyes glistened. "I wish I could have thanked him," she said. "You should have let me know.
But, as his dancing eyes sped around among other faces, he marked the twinkling lights of covetousness in Fat Ortega's rat eyes and he knew that, long ago, Ortega himself had played for any stake. Beside Ortega there was another man present who might be inclined to accept a hazard, Tony Muñoz, who conducted the rival gambling house across the street and who was Ortega's much despised son-in-law.
Father Salvierderra cannot be here before the 10th of the month. He leaves Santa Barbara on the 1st, and he will walk all the way, a good six days' journey, for he is old now and feeble; then he must stop in Ventura for a Sunday, and a day at the Ortega's ranch, and at the Lopez's, there, there is a christening. Yes, the 10th is the very earliest that he can be here, near two weeks from now.
The shearing had been over and done by ten in the morning, and why were they not on their way to the Ortega's? Waiting all day, it was now near sunset, with nothing to do, and still worse with not much of anything to eat, had made them all cross; and no wonder.
Because you are such a man as I would make were I God; a man strong and fearless and masterful; a man trustworthy to the death when his word is given and his honor is at stake. No, I do not judge you alone by what happened at Ortega's gambling house. But that fitted in with all I knew of you.
His emotion, though not outright irritation, was akin to it. He was opening his lips to say curtly, "I do not play dice with women, señora," when Ortega's sudden outburst forestalled him. Kendric had barely had the time to register the faint impression of the odd sensation which this companion of Ruiz Rios awoke in him, when he was set to puzzle over Ortega's explosion.
"Where's the luck in that throw?" demanded Kendric, fully enjoying the play of expression on Ortega's face. "The luck," grumbled Ortega, "was that I did not bet you. If I had bet it would have been a six, no less." "Tony Muñoz," called Kendric, turning. "Will it be you?"
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