"There are horses and cattle over yonder." The other pushed up the canvas and looked out.
"That's right.

Must just got here, or there'd 'a' been a guard up above.

The fellow is comin' now--see ?" He was loping along carelessly, Mexican from high hat to jingling spurs, sitting the saddle as though moulded there, a young fellow, dark faced, but with a livid scar along one cheek.
"Juan Cateras, the little devil," muttered Sikes, as the rider drew nearer.

"There's some pot brewing if he is in it." The rider drew up his horse, and lifted his hat, his smiling lips revealing a row of white teeth.
"A pleasant day, _senor_," he said graciously, his dark eyes searching the faces of the two men, and then dwelling with interest on the woman.
"Ah, your pardon, _senorita_; your presence is more than welcome here." He rested one hand on the wagon box, the expression of his face hardening.

"Yet an explanation might not be out of place--the Senor Mendez may not be pleased." "We came under orders from Lacy," replied Moore confidently.