"Here, Senor Capitan," whispered Miguel, as they neared the entrance to the trap.
A low hill shut off from their view all but the head of the cut, and it also hid them from the sight of any possible enemy which might have been lurking in wait for them farther down the arroyo.
At Miguel's words Byrne wheeled his horse to the right away from the trail which led through the bottom of the waterway and around the base of the hill, or rather in that direction, for he had scarce deviated from the direct way before one of the troopers spurred to his side, calling out in Spanish that he was upon the wrong trail.
"Wot's this guy chewin' about?" asked Billy, turning to Miguel.
"He says you must keep to the arroyo, Senor Capitan," explained the Mexican.
"Tell him to go back into his stall," was Byrne's laconic rejoinder, as he pushed his mount forward to pass the brigand.
The soldier was voluble in his objections. Again he reined in front of Billy, and by this time his five fellows had spurred forward to block the way.
"This is the wrong trail," they cried. "Come this other way, Capitan. Pesita has so ordered it."
Catching the drift of their remarks, Billy waved them to one side.
"I'm bossin' this picnic," he announced. "Get out o' the way, an' be quick about it if you don't want to be hurted."