“Down there.” Pete pointed over to the left.

He didn’t need to say any more. They could all see the distant figure now.

A man wearing a Stetson and carrying a long-barreled rifle was climbing slowly toward them.

Dusty.

“There’s no point hiding in the cave,” Jupe whispered. “Dusty will track us right to the tunnel. If he comes in shooting. ”

“Maybe we could ambush him somehow,” Bob suggested.

“Yeah.” Jupe nodded. “I’ve got an idea that might work.”

“Okay, spill it,” Pete said softly.

“Let’s get some privacy.” Jupe was already crawling back into the cave. The others followed him.

A minute later Jupe, Brit, and Bob emerged. Brit crouched, holding his rifle across his chest. Waiting until Dusty had moved out of sight, he scrambled down the twisting path and disappeared among the rocks below. Bob quickly followed Brit and disappeared too.

Jupe remained lying in the entrance to the tunnel. Keeping his head down, he saw Dusty move out into the open. With his rifle ready, Dusty was climbing steadily, following Blondie’s hoofprints.

Jupe waited until the rancher was less than twenty yards away.

“Dusty,” he called. “Dusty, it’s Brit.”

“Brit?” Dusty’s hand slipped up the stock of his rifle to the trigger. “Where are you, Brit?”

“Up here,” Jupe called back. “And I’ve got my rifle aimed at you.”

Dusty laughed. “Go ahead and shoot,” he said. “I’ll know exactly where you are then. And I’ll blast you away.”

He had reached the foot of the path. He kept on coming with his easy, loping stride.

“What do you want?” Jupe made his voice sound scared. “Why did you come here?”

“Just to talk. Have a friendly chat with you and your dad about Pancho Villa.”

“Drop your rifle.”

The real Brit stepped out from the rocks behind the rancher and prodded him hard in the back with the barrel of his gun. Dusty looked bewildered.

“Go on. Throw it on the ground,” Brit ordered firmly.

Jupe’s plan had counted on Dusty’s surprise. One minute the rancher thought he was talking to Brit up ahead. The next minute he heard Brit’s voice right behind him.

He didn’t drop his rifle. But he was confused enough to lower it.

“Don’t turn your head,” Brit told him in the same firm voice.

Just as Jupe had hoped — that was exactly what Dusty did. At least he started to.

Bob leaped out of his hiding place.

Dusty had his head half-turned toward Brit. He never saw Bob coming. Before he could move, Bob grabbed the rifle out of Dusty’s hands and threw it into a cactus bush ten yards away.

Snarling, Dusty turned on Bob.

Bob moved fast into a karate position. He wasn’t as good a karate fighter as Pete, but he was strong and quick. He thought he could take Dusty if the man attacked him.

But Dusty didn’t attack Bob. He suddenly whirled at Brit. His arm swung around with his body. He backhanded Brit hard across the head. Brit staggered back. Bob moved forward, but the rancher already had his hands on the barrel of Brit’s rifle. A quick, strong twist and he wrested it free. Stepping back, he turned the gun on Bob.

Dusty sneered. “Okay, you jokers,” he said. “Get going. Downhill. And don’t stop until you’re out of range.”

Disarmed, there was nothing the two guys could do. If Brit made another move, Dusty would shoot Bob. They both started slowly down the trail. Dusty waited until they were a safe hundred yards away. Then he turned and started to climb toward Jupe again.

“Come on out, Fat Boy,” he called. “Come on out or I’ll start shooting.”

Jupe stood up. Dusty’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“Okay,” he said. “You can go join your friends in a minute. But first I’ve got a couple of questions I want to ask you.”

Jupe would have given anything to get a judo hold on the rancher. But with a gun aimed at his chest, he couldn’t move close enough.

“Where’s Brit’s father?”

Jupe thought fast. He had to make Dusty believe there was no one in the cave.

“He and Pete went to get some water,” he said.

“How come I didn’t see them?”

“The spring’s a couple of miles away. Around the other side of the mountain. You can’t see it from here.”

Dusty nodded slowly. He smiled. “So there’s no one but you between me and Villa’s loot,” he said. “Fine. Now move your fat behind. Go and hide with your friends in those gullies down there. Just keep outta my sight. And if you don’t want a bullet in your backside, move fast and keep going.”

Jupe shrugged. Assuming a beaten, crestfallen look, he started quickly down the path.

Dusty watched him until he disappeared behind the rocks. Then he lowered his head and, holding the rifle in both hands, he started into the tunnel.

Pete heard him coming. He was waiting just inside the cave. He figured Dusty would enter with his head down. A perfect target for a karate chop.

He raised his arm. With his fingers rigidly extended, his hand was as lethal as a two-by-four. One strike across the back of the rancher’s neck and he would drop to the floor unconscious.

Dusty emerged into the cave. Pete brought his arm down fast. But one of the burros made a slight noise and Dusty raised his head an instant too soon. The blow caught him across the shoulders. He stumbled forward. But he didn’t drop the rifle.

Pete was after him at once. He had his hand raised ready to strike again. But as he had shown outside with Bob and Brit, Dusty’s reflexes were trigger fast. He stepped back. The gun came up, pointed straight at Pete. Pete lowered his arm.

He figured he had one advantage against that rifle. Dusty had just come in out of the sunlight. Pete’s eyes had grown used to the darkness of the cave. If he moved fast enough, he might be able to surprise Dusty before he could shoot.

He feinted to one side, then suddenly spun on the ball of his foot. His right leg shot out behind him. His foot caught the rancher just below the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Dusty doubled up for a second, gasping.

This time Pete had just the target he needed. Leaping forward, he brought his elbow down on the back of the rancher’s neck.

The otoshi-hiji-ate, the downward elbow strike, did it every time. Dusty dropped to the floor. Out for the count.

He was still lying there unconscious when the other three guys joined Pete. Brit was handy with ropes and knots. He soon had Dusty trussed up like a steer at a rodeo. The four guys stood looking down at the helpless rancher. The two burros who had stood huddled together during the fight went back to their oats.

“Let’s take ten,” Bob said after a minute.

The four guys went outside.

“Okay, I know.” Jupe smiled. “It didn’t work out quite the way I planned. But Pete’s lightning reflexes took up the slack.”

Pete laughed and chopped the air. “These hands are registered weapons, you know.”

“Oh, right,” Bob said. “And my name is Bruce Lee. What’s up next, Jupe?”

“First, let’s get Dusty’s rifle,” Brit said. “Like heads, two guns are better than one.”

They hurried down the path to the clump of cactus where Bob had thrown Dusty’s rifle. They bent down, searching the stony ground.

They searched and searched. They went over every rock and crevice. They looked under every prickly cactus leaf.

The rifle was gone.

“Mercedes,” Bob stated. “She’s around here somewhere. And now she’s got Dusty’s rifle.”

Jupe was pulling at his lip. “I’ve got an idea,” he said after a moment.

“Here we go again,” Pete groaned. “More second-guessing?”

“I don’t think Mercedes is hiding around here,” Jupe went on thoughtfully. “I think she’s gone back to her base.”

“What base?” Pete asked.

“She unloaded those packs from her burro,” Jupe reasoned. “So she’s camped somewhere. And as Hector Sebastian told me, burros are faithful animals. They attach themselves to people. So if I take Blondie along to keep it company, Mercedes’ burro might lead me to her camp.”