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 may go; we'll have no further need of you. I'm sorry that I can't pay you right now for your labor here today, but when my countrymen, who are on the way with an army, arrive here, you shall be well paid."

This open and cheerful dismissal struck the men between amazement and shame. Henderson knew very well that they had been talking of winning their own safety from Roberto's wrath by making prisoners of him artd Felipe; their faces betrayed it, for dissimulation is not an art with the simple. It was as if he had snatched their pardon away from them just as they felt it safely in their reach.

"You will give us back our guns, then, Don Gabriel?" the old man asked.

"I'll take care of your guns," Henderson returned, in quite a different tone. There was a commanding harshness in it that made their servile spirits cower.

"We were told that Don Felipe had deceived us—that the Americans were not coming," the spokesman said.

"Well, if you will listen to a a liar," Henderson returned, with contempt.

Henderson knew they were trembling in the fear of Roberto's vengeance as Simon had pictured it to them. A bold front before them was necessary; they must be given to understand their services were no longer needed on account of the Americans being close at hand. They would not throw away this one price of Roberto's favor that lay in their