“But if they don’t, How will we find out anything about Billy?” Martinez gave him no answer.

They had finished a meager supper when three warriors walked into camp. They walked silently around the two carts, peering inside without touching anything, then went to the dwindling campfire and seated themselves on the ground. They did not speak a word. In a short while others appeared, more or less repeating the motions of the first group. Several stared at Andy, evidently trying to figure out who or what he was, but they asked no questions and he offered no answers. The mood was sullen. Andy looked vainly to Martinez for guidance. Whatever the Mexican was thinking, he did not allow it to show in his face. He produced a pipe, stuffed the bowl with tobacco, lighted it, and handed it to the man sitting on the end. Each man took a couple of puffs and passed it on to the next.

They looked no friendlier.

With a combination of Comanche words and sign language, Martinez welcomed the men to camp and asked them what was their pleasure. Andy listened intently. He feared at first that he might have forgotten too much, but he found that he understood the talk. The gist was that most of these men had taken part in a raid that penetrated the Texas settlements,’ accumulating many horses and mules as well as other booty. They had returned to this place where their families waited. Dissension had broken out regarding division of the spoils, and this group had been left feeling robbed. A larger band had gone on with more than their share. These Comanches wanted to trade the mules and some of the horses.

Martinez replied that trade was his reason for being here. “Bring what you want to sell.”

“First,” said the man who seemed to be the leader, “you have whiskey?”

Reluctantly Martinez said, “Only a little. Afterward, we drink in celebration of a good trade.”

“We drink now.” The leader was emphatic.

Andy could sense a wreck coming. Angry at their fellow raiders, these Comanches were willing to take out their frustrations on whoever was handy.

Martinez went to the nearest cart and dug beneath a pile of trade goods. He brought forth a jug, shaking it to judge how full it was. “There is enough here so each can have a drink,” he said. “After the trading, another drink.”

The jug was passed, but Andy saw that the first who received it were partaking liberally of its contents. It was empty before the last three men had their turn. Quarreling among themselves, they turned on Martinez with a demand for more. Martinez spoke to one of the cart men, who hurriedly brought another jug. Andy could see tension rising in Martinez’s face.