"Do you know why we ran away? To escape the conscription. If you give us
up, all our adventures, our dangers, our escapes, will be as nothing,
and we shall be punished besides."
Anastacio moved his eyes to Roldan's with a flash of interest.
"Good! I hate the government. You shall stay here until the time of
conscription is over. Then I will get a big sack of Mexican dollars, a
herd of cattle, a caponara of horses, and much tobacco and whiskey. Who
are your fathers?"
Roldan explained.
Anastacio flushed under his thick skin. "Good. I will double the
ransom--and the guard."
"The conscription will be over in a few weeks--"
"You could not go before. We too must hide. Of course the soldiers are
behind. I have many scouts watching. Now go to sleep."
The following week was clear and bright, but very cold. The boys, bred
in the warm basin of California, must have suffered had not Anastacio
ordered one of his minions to make them coat and boots from the skin of
the coyote. Every morning the chief drilled his men with the tactics of
a born commander who had let no opportunity for observation escape him.
The military discipline of the pueblo was only relaxed for three hours
in the afternoon, during which time the Indians were given full taste of
the freedom they coveted that they might battle for it the more
passionately when the time came.
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