"I think he is lying," Felipe returned confidently. "It may be that a small force took the place, and is holding it, not attempting to march into the south. That is the way it looks to me, Gabriel."
"Roberto appeared easy and confident," Henderson said, doubt rising sharply again. "I believe he intends to attack us, as he threatened, and force our hands. The question is: Are we going to hang Don Abrahan in that event, or turn the cannon against the house and threaten to batter it down? Which, in your opinion, would Roberto place the greater value on, his father's life or his father's house?"
"The house, by all means," Felipe declared.
"My strategy is weak, I fear, Felipe," Henderson confessed gravely. "I made a mistake in my estimate of Roberto's filial affection and respect. And we are here, instead of on the road to Monterey, through my blundering."
"We have the cannon," said Felipe proudly. "It was a masterful stroke to take the cannon, Gabriel. We can cut them down like fire eats dry grass. Pah! Roberto and his hundred men! They are nothing—they are leaves in the wind."
"Yes, we've got the cannon," Henderson said, drawing a breath of self-justification, a sweet refreshment to a man in a doubtful crisis of his own contriving.
"And Roberto hasn't got a hundred men. I doubt if he will come back, Gabriel, at least before
