"Who is he?"

"Oh, a no good Mexican, a chap named Juan Baptista."

"Juan Baptista!" exclaimed Bellew slapping his leg, "that's fine.
Couldn't be better."

"You know him?"

"So well that he'll have to do anything I say."

"You can make him obey you then?"

"I know of a horse stealing case in which he was mixed up. If he
won't do what we tell him to I'll threaten him with exposure."

"Good. He is sleeping in the corral with their ponies. Let's go
down there now and rouse him out. Then we'll have part of the
business settled."

"I'm agreeable. Come on."

As noiselessly as possible the three plotters crept from the room
and tip-toed down the corridors. Following a long passage they
presently emerged into a star-lit stable-yard. In that part of the
west doors are not locked at night, so they could go out without
bothering about a key.

"Where's the corral?" whispered Buck as they came out of the hotel.