It  was  not  long  before  he  met  some  of  the  Mexicans
who  were  also  seeking  the  daring  bandit,  but  from
entirely  different  motives.
Coming  upon  a  group  sitting  about  a  camp-fire  just
at  sunset,  the  cowboy  drew  rein.
"What  do  you  want?"  demanded  one  of  the  Mexi-
cans, while  they  all  eyed  him  with  suspicion.
"I'm  looking  for  a  friend,"  Shorty  lied.
"Well,  he's  not  with  us,"  snapped  the  man.
"So  I  see,"  the  cowboy  returned.  Tin  sorry*  I've
ridden  hard.  Are  you  Rurales?"


50  FRANCISCO  VILLA,  BANDIT

The  question  was  needless,  for  the  men  did  not
wear  the  uniform  of  the  mounted  police  of  Mexico
and  Shorty  knew  it,  but  he  thought  he  might  gain  their
confidence  by  seeming  ignorant.
His  question  was  greeted  with  roars  of  laughter.
"Well,  hardly !"  said  the  spokesman  at  last.
"I'm  glad,"  said  Shorty,  dismounting.
Unconcernedly  he  seated  himself  at  the  fire,  and  in  a
littFe  while  he  had  declared  himself  an  outlaw  who,
attracted  by  the  daring  of  Villa's  raids,  was  determined
to  join  him.
"That's  what  we're  going  to  do,"  said  one  of  the
Mexicans.
"Know  where  he  is?"  Shorty  asked,  with  all  the
disinterestedness  he  could  assume.
"In  the  Sierras,  of  course.  And  I  think  he's  in  a
cave  near  the  head  of  the  great  pass,"  declared  one
of  the  men.
This  statement  brought  on  a  discussion  among  the
others,  each  of  whom  held  a  different  opinion  as  to
the  bandit's  whereabouts.
Closely  Shorty  listened  to  all  they  said,  fixing  in
his  mind  the  various  retreats  they  mentioned.
When  at  last  the  Mexicans  made  ready  to  sleep,
the  cowboy  got  up.
"Where  going?"  called  one  of  them.
