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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Mesa, by Jarvis Hall
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Across the Mesa
+
+Author: Jarvis Hall
+
+Illustrator: Henry Pitz
+
+Release Date: October 21, 2008 [EBook #26984]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE MESA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PONY PUT HER TWO FOREFEET OVER THE EDGE
+OF THE DESCENT.]
+
+
+
+
+Across the Mesa
+
+By
+JARVIS HALL
+
+AUTHOR OF "THROUGH MOCKING BIRD GAP"
+
+Frontispiece by
+HENRY PITZ
+
+THE PENN PUBLISHING
+COMPANY PHILADELPHIA
+1922
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT
+1922 BY
+THE PENN
+PUBLISHING
+COMPANY
+
+Across the Mesa
+
+Made in the U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER
+      I  Why Not?                          7
+     II  Athens                           14
+    III  En Route                         30
+     IV  Juan Pachuca                     48
+      V  Polly Arrives                    65
+     VI  Local Activities                 80
+    VII  Miss Chicago                     97
+   VIII  The Prisoner                    109
+     IX  At Liberty                      126
+      X  The Discovery                   142
+     XI  Casa Grande                     159
+    XII  A Night Ride                    179
+   XIII  The Wagon                       188
+    XIV  The Trail                       208
+     XV  Angel                           222
+    XVI  Tom Does a Marathon             238
+   XVII  At Soria's                      251
+  XVIII  Back to Athens                  276
+    XIX  Polly Makes a New Acquaintance  283
+     XX  Treasure Trove                  303
+
+
+
+
+ACROSS THE MESA
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHY NOT?
+
+
+Polly Street drove her little electric down Michigan Boulevard, with
+bitterness in her heart.
+
+It was a cold wet day in the early spring of 1920, and Chicago was doing
+her best to show her utter indifference to anyone's opinion as to what
+spring weather ought to be. It was the sort of day when, if you had any
+ambition left after a dreary winter, you began to plot desperate things.
+
+Polly hated driving the electric--her soul yearned for a gas car. Mrs.
+Street, however, did not like a gas car without a man to drive it; the son
+of the family was in Athens, Mexico, at a coal mine; and Mr. Street, Sr.,
+considered that his income did not run to a chauffeur at the present scale
+of wage. Therefore, Polly tried to forget her prejudice and to imagine
+that the neat little car was a real machine.
+
+Second among her grievances was the fact that this was Bob's wedding day
+and she, his adored and adoring sister, was not with him. Bob had been
+engaged for some months to a girl in Douglas, Arizona. The date of the
+wedding had been set twice and each time difficulties in Mexico had made
+it seem unwise either that Bob should leave Athens, where he held the
+position of superintendent of one of Fiske, Doane & Co.'s mines, or that
+the bride should venture into the disturbed region.
+
+This time they expected, as Bob wrote, to "pull it off on schedule." Polly
+had hoped either to go to Douglas for the wedding or to have the bride and
+groom in Chicago; but Father had been unable to get away, Mother hadn't
+been well, and the trip had been given up. Then the young couple planned
+to go immediately to Athens without the formality of a honeymoon. To quote
+Bob again: "People go on honeymoons to be lonesome, and if anybody can
+find a better place to be lonesome in than Athens, let him trot it out."
+
+The third grievance held an element of publicity particularly galling to a
+young lady who was known to her friends not only as a daring horsewoman, a
+crack swimmer and a golf champion, but as a bit of a belle besides. She
+and Joyce Henderson had agreed a week ago to break their engagement. The
+engagement had been a mistake--both young people admitted it frankly to
+each other. The irritating part of it was that Joyce was admitting it to
+the world.
+
+Instead of taking the matter seriously and considering himself, outwardly
+at least, as the victim of an unhappy love affair, Joyce had escorted
+another girl, who shall be nameless, for she does not enter this story
+except as an element of conflict, to the Mandarin Ball. Now the Mandarin
+Ball is not the frivolous affair that its name suggests, but a perennial
+of deep importance, a function to which young men are in the habit of
+taking their wives, their fiancées, or the girls they rather hope may be
+their fiancées. It is one of the few social affairs left of the old
+order.
+
+Thus you can see that it was a pointed action on Joyce's part; an
+indication that he regarded himself as a free man, and after the habit of
+free men was about to put on new chains. It was humiliating, to say the
+least. During the war the engagement had seemed quite natural, quite a
+part of things. All the young people were engaged--except those who were
+married.
+
+"That, at least, I had sense enough not to do!" raged Polly, as she
+narrowly missed a pedestrian's heel.
+
+It is hard for older people to realize how important it is at twenty-three
+to be doing exactly what others are doing; the absolute anguish of being
+the only man in the A. E. F. without a wife or sweetheart, or the only
+girl at home without a soldier husband or lover. A bit of such
+understanding would make clear not only the number of divorces and broken
+engagements which resulted from the war and had their share in the
+production of the unrest of the times, but would also elucidate a good
+many other happenings to youth.
+
+So much for Polly Street and Joyce Henderson, who were fortunate enough to
+find out before marriage that they were unsuited for each other. Polly,
+however, preferred to look upon the dark side. Joyce had behaved like a
+cad.
+
+"And the worst of it is that everybody will say it serves me right," she
+went on to herself, "just because I've flirted a bit here and there. It's
+not my fault if people never turn out as I expect them to. I guess I'm
+like Grandfather Street was in his religion. He thought the Baptists were
+wonderful until he joined them and then the Presbyterians looked more
+interesting to him. After he'd been with them a while he couldn't see how
+anybody could be a Presbyterian, so he joined the Unitarians. People
+thought he was a turncoat, but he wasn't--he was just a sort of religious
+Mormon. One church wasn't enough for him.
+
+"Oh dear, I wish I'd gone to Douglas alone! Bob would understand. I
+believe I'll go to Athens. Why not? It's safe enough or Emma's parents
+wouldn't let her go. Of course it's a bit soon after their wedding, but
+I'll be tactful and keep out of their way."
+
+The light of determination was in Polly's dark eyes. They were big lovely
+eyes that looked at you wistfully from under arched brows. They seldom
+laughed or twinkled and the nose that kept them company was equally
+sedate, being purely aquiline, but a mouth with dimpled corners upset the
+scheme entirely, while ripples of golden brown hair completed the picture
+of a healthy, happy youngster--not radiantly beautiful but what people
+like to call "winsome," which is after all as good a word as most.
+
+She parked the electric on the Lake Front and crossed the Boulevard. The
+policeman on the crossing nodded to her and she smiled at him. Polly had
+what her father called a "stand in" with the force. It was unnecessary,
+for she was a good driver when her feelings were not agitated, but there
+was something about policemen that appealed to her. They were so big and
+pink and forceful that you felt rather important when they nodded to
+you--a bit after the fashion of a man who is recognized by the head
+waiter.
+
+She was still smiling when she entered the building in which was located a
+club to which she belonged. It was a serious-minded club of clever women,
+and most people had been amused when Polly Street joined it. Nobody
+expected serious-minded things of Polly, though here and there someone was
+willing to admit that she was "clever enough in her way."
+
+Finding the writing-room empty, Polly sat down to write a letter. Several
+times in her career she had decided upon courses of procedure which had
+seemed to her eminently practical, only to be talked out of them by her
+family. This time she would take no such chances. She would write to Bob,
+and Bob, being much like her, understood her--as well at any rate as any
+brother understands a sister. Then she would go over to the bank and get
+some money on her Liberty Bonds. Polly was as usual broke, Mr. Street
+being a man who provided credit liberally for his family but who had
+learned from experience that money was safer in his own hands.
+
+A trip to the ticket office to make reservations and the thing would be
+done. A vague remembrance that Mexico was a place which demanded passports
+upon entrance came into her mind but was dismissed airily. Father would
+attend to that. The fact that Mexico was a troublous region where an
+American girl might meet with a good many disagreeable adventures was as
+airily dismissed. All that anyone needed to go anywhere, according to
+Polly's simple code, was common sense and money. The first she had, the
+second she intended to get, so why worry?
+
+As she sat at the writing-table a slightly martial air came over Polly.
+Bob must be made to understand the situation. Because a man took it upon
+himself to dwell in or on a coal mine, Polly was never quite sure of the
+phrase, in the remote Southwest, he was not absolved from all family
+duties. The fact that he had married the handsomest girl in Arizona and
+was indulging in a honeymoon need not prevent an oppressed sister from
+demanding sympathy. She wrote rapidly.
+
+"DEAR BOB:
+
+"I know it's awfully nervy of me to drop in on you and Emma right at the
+beginning of your honeymoon, but I am coming just the same. Joyce
+Henderson has behaved atrociously to me. I'll explain when I see you. You
+needn't show this to Emma; you can read her scraps of it."
+
+Polly paused. A mental picture of Emma, demure and pretty, came before
+her. Bob Street was a lucky man to have found a girl like Emma. A dreamy
+look succeeded the martial one. Visions of a flower-bedecked hacienda--was
+that what they called them, it didn't sound exactly right--surrounded by
+peons dozing in the sun succeeded the dimpled vision of Emma. Polly drew
+her ideas of Mexico entirely from the movies, Bob's short letters being
+quite lacking in atmosphere. She saw herself leaning over a balcony,
+listening to the strains of a mandolin, played by a tall, slim youth, who
+resembled a composite photograph of several of her favorite movie idols.
+Poor Joyce Henderson, how unimportant he seemed by the side of that
+radiant vision! Polly scribbled furiously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ATHENS
+
+
+In the northern part of Mexico, in the state of Sonora, lies the little
+mining town of Athens, ironically named by someone whose sense of beauty
+was offended by the yellow stretches of desert sand, broken by hills,
+dotted here and there by cactus and mesquite, and frowned upon by gaunt
+and angular mountains.
+
+Athens, when the mining industry was running full time, was a busy if not
+a beautiful spot. Its row of shacks housed workers, male and a few female,
+to a generous number, while its busy little train of cars--for Athens
+owned a tiny spur of railroad connecting with the neighboring town of
+Conejo and operated for reasons germane to the coal industry--gave it, if
+you were very temperamental, something of the air of a metropolis seen
+through a diminishing glass.
+
+The plant and offices which boasted two stories, and the general
+merchandise store which was long and rambling, were larger than the
+shacks; otherwise Athens was a true democracy. The company house in which
+the superintendent, the manager and the chief engineer "bached" only
+differed from the others by an added cleanliness, for Mrs. Van Zandt, the
+energetic woman who ran the boarding-house, gave an eye to its welfare.
+The little houses were arranged in one long street and that street was
+Athens.
+
+Several days after the invasion of Athens suggested itself to Miss Polly
+Street in far-off Chicago, a prominent citizen strode from the offices in
+the direction of the boarding-house. He moved with decision, for he was
+hungry, and Mrs. Van Zandt was fastidious as to hours. The office force
+ate its supper at six, and the fact that Marc Scott was the assistant
+superintendent and, in the absence of the superintendent on affairs
+matrimonial, in charge altogether, was no reason in the eyes of Mrs. Van
+Zandt why he should be late to his meals.
+
+Scott paused outside the boarding-house to look into the distance where an
+accustomed but always interesting sight met his eyes. Away in the
+distance, between two foothills, appeared the tiny thread of smoke which
+marked the approach of the little train from Conejo. It was fascinating to
+watch it; at first so indistinct, then plainer, and finally to see the
+little engine puffing its way along, dragging the small cars. There would
+be no one on it but the train gang and nothing more exciting than the
+mail, but its bi-weekly arrival never lost interest for Marc Scott.
+
+"Johnson's late to-night," he muttered, and pushed open the door which led
+immediately to the dining-room. Three men had just begun eating. There was
+Henry Hard, the chief engineer; Jimmy Adams, the bookkeeper, and Jack
+Williams, who ran the company store; they, with young Street, Scott, the
+doctor--who a month ago had taken an ailing wife back to Cincinnati--and
+the train gang, formed the little group of Americans who had held the
+mining camp together.
+
+While their location had been freer from trouble than many parts of
+Mexico, both in regard to bandit and federal persecution, they had borne a
+part in the general unrest. Once the town had been attacked by Indians;
+another time, lying in the path of one of Villa's hurried retreats, it had
+endured a week-end visit from that gentleman, after which horses and
+canned goods had been scarce for a while.
+
+The worst trouble they had had, however, had been with labor. They worked
+the mine with Mexicans, and the Mexicans were an uncertain quantity.
+Athens was too far from the border to admit of hiring labor from the other
+side and allowing it to go back and forth, and the men they got were a
+discouraged lot, ready to abandon the job for anything that came up, from
+joining the newest bandit to enlisting in the army. Fighting seemed their
+_metier_ and most of them preferred it to the monotony of working a mine.
+A few who were married and had hungry families stayed longer than the rest
+but it was always a problem.
+
+Just now the mine was running three days a week and no one knew when
+orders would come to shut down entirely. There were the usual rumors
+afloat in regard to the coming election in July and a good many people who
+had seen other elections in Mexico expected trouble. The Athens people
+were looking to Street's return for news from headquarters, but already
+several days had gone by since the wedding and they had heard nothing.
+
+The men looked up and nodded as Scott entered and Mrs. Van Zandt, peering
+in from the kitchen through a square hole which served as a means of
+communication, brought him his coffee. Mrs. Van Zandt had a weak spot in
+her heart for Marc Scott--most women and children had. One did not at
+first see why. He was not good looking, except that he was well made and
+well kept; not particularly pleasing in his manner, being given to an
+abruptness of speech which most people found disconcerting; and he liked
+his own way more than is conducive to social harmony.
+
+He was, however, straight as a die; was afraid of few things and no
+persons; and if he liked you, he had an especial manner for you which took
+the edge off his gruffness so that you wondered why you had ever thought
+him disagreeable. His hair and skin were as brown as each other, which was
+saying a good deal; his eyes were gray; his teeth white and strong; and he
+had the healthy look of a man who lives in the open, bathes a good deal
+and does not overeat.
+
+"Late as usual," remarked Mrs. Van Zandt, pessimistically, as she set the
+coffee down beside him. "The less a man has to do in this world, the
+harder it seems to be for him to get to his meals on time."
+
+"Ain't it the truth?" remarked Adams, with feeling. He was a short, chubby
+youngster, with a twinkling blue eye. "If it was me, I could whistle for
+my supper, but seeing it's him, he gets fed up, the beggar!"
+
+"Too bad about you!" sniffed Mrs. Van Zandt. "I thought you'd cut out that
+second cup of coffee?"
+
+"I'm aiming to cut it out during the heated term," was the cheerful reply.
+"There's something about your coffee, Mrs. Van, that's like some
+folks--refuses to be cut."
+
+"Humph!" Mrs. Van was not inaccessible to flattery. "Dolores," this to a
+black-haired girl whose face appeared at the hole. "You can cut the pies
+like I told you--in fours. If that girl stays with me another month I'll
+make something out of her; but, Lord, why should I think she'll stay? They
+never do. Mexicans must be born with an itch for travel."
+
+"I notice," suggested Hard, "that in the haunts of civilization they are
+cutting pies in sixes." Hard was a Bostonian--tall, spare, and muscular.
+He came of a fine old Massachusetts family, and his gray eyes, surrounded
+by a dozen kindly little wrinkles, his clean-cut mouth, wide but firm and
+thin lipped, showed marks of breeding absent in the other men.
+
+"Hush, don't tell her!" growled Adams. "A woman just naturally can't help
+trying to follow the styles, and I can use more pie than a sixth, let me
+tell you."
+
+Mrs. Van, having attended to the distribution of the pie, sat down at the
+foot of the table for a bit of conversation. She was a good-looking woman
+with dark hair and eyes, and features which, though they were hard, were
+not disagreeable. Her figure was restrained with much care from its
+inclination to over fleshiness. Mrs. Van scorned the sort of woman who let
+herself get fat and fought the enemy daily. I could not possibly tell you
+her age, for no one but herself knew it. It might be thirty-five and on
+the other hand it might easily be ten or fifteen years more.
+
+She had led a roving life, beginning somewhere in the Middle West,
+carrying on for a time in the East, where it involved a bit of stage life
+to which she loved to refer. There had been a short spasm of matrimony,
+not entirely satisfactory, the late Van Zandt having had his full share of
+his sex's weaknesses, and a final career of keeping a boarding-house in
+New York. After that she had drifted West and finally into Mexico. She had
+been a veritable godsend to the Athens mining company which had undergone
+the agonies of native cooking until the digestions of the American portion
+of the working force were in a condition resembling half extinct craters.
+
+"What I'm wonderin' is if Bob Street and his girl got married or not and
+when they're coming home," she remarked as she sat down. One of Mrs. Van's
+little peculiarities, saved probably from the wreck of her theatrical
+career, was a tendency toward calling people by their first names when
+they were not there to protect themselves and sometimes even when they
+were.
+
+"If they've got any sense at all they'll wait," said Scott, placidly.
+"This is no time to be bringin' more women into the country."
+
+"That's so," agreed Williams, a confirmed bachelor. "It was good luck the
+Doc took his wife and kids off when he did. There'll be trouble here when
+them elections is held."
+
+"Pick up your skirts and run, Mrs. Van!" suggested Adams. "You may be
+cooking for a Mexicano yet."
+
+"If I do he'll know it," was the prompt reply. "I ain't the runnin' kind.
+Anybody who's staved off the landlord in New York as many times as I have
+ain't going to worry about Mexicans. What I think those young folks ought
+to do is to go East for their honeymoon."
+
+"They can't," replied Adams, with a grin. "It wouldn't look sporting for
+the Supe to leave his underlings without protection in such a crisis."
+
+"I like Bob Street as well as any young chap I know," said Mrs. Van Zandt,
+meditatively, "but I don't know as I'd want him standin' between me and
+Angel Gonzales--if Angel was much mad." Angel Gonzales was a local bandit;
+a man of many crimes and much history. "But, of course, it wouldn't look
+well for the Sup'rintendent to run away."
+
+"Street's not the running kind, either; don't fool yourself about that,"
+remarked Scott, quietly.
+
+"He's a good kid. I don't care if he is a rich man's son," said Adams with
+sincerity. "If my Dad had money I wouldn't be keeping books, you bet."
+
+"No, son, you'd be playing the ponies up at Juarez," responded Hard,
+cheerfully.
+
+"Not ponies, Henry dear, roulette," replied Jimmy, pleasantly. "Me and
+Mrs. Van are going to get spliced just as soon as the Ouija board tells
+her the winning system."
+
+"It's all very well for you to make fun of things you don't know any more
+about than a baby, Jim Adams." Mrs. Van's scorn was intense. "If you'd
+read that article I showed you in the magazine about the man that talked
+to his mother-in-law by the Ouija----"
+
+"Mother-in-law? Great guns, is that the best the thing can do?"
+
+The reply was cut short by the entrance of the train gang, hot and hungry,
+clamoring for food.
+
+"How's Conejo?"
+
+"Sand-storm. Windy as a parson. Say, you fellows eat up all the pie?"
+Conversation was suspended while the demands of hunger were satisfied, and
+Scott distributed the mail which the late comers had brought.
+
+"From Bob?" Hard looked up from his Boston paper as Scott grunted over his
+letter. Scott nodded and then as the others looked their curiosity, he
+read the brief note aloud.
+
+"DEAR SCOTTY:
+
+"Have just had a summons from the directors to go East at once; guess
+they're uneasy about something they've heard and want first-hand
+information. Emma and I are starting for Chicago to-morrow. Open all mail
+and wire anything important.
+
+"BOB."
+
+"Just what I said they'd ought to do," breathed Mrs. Van, happily. "Well,
+that girl's got a good husband--I'll say she has."
+
+"Directors would be a heap more uneasy if they knew what we know,"
+remarked Williams, sententiously. "Hear anything more about the Chihuahua
+troops bein' ordered in, Johnson?"
+
+"Nope," replied the engineer, his mouth full of pie. "Everybody crawled
+into their holes in Conejo. Didn't you never see a sand-storm, Jack?"
+
+"I wish I'd known he was going to Chicago. I'd have asked him to look in
+on my girl," said Jimmy, folding up his letter. "I don't like the way she
+writes--all jazz and picture shows. Some cuss is trying to cut me out with
+her."
+
+"More likely she's heard about you and the little Mexican over to Conejo,"
+remarked the fireman, unsympathetically.
+
+"If you'd had her address she sure would have," replied Adams, promptly.
+"That Mexican girl----"
+
+"Yes, we remember her. She was a looker but she used too much powder--they
+all do." Hard's voice was judicial. "She always reminded me of a chocolate
+cake caught out in a snow-storm."
+
+"Hush up!" Mrs. Van's voice was tragic. "Do you want Dolores to get mad
+and quit? They've got their feelings same as we have. I guess I've got to
+catch a deaf and dumb one if I want to keep her on this place!"
+
+Marc Scott sat in his place, a pile of letters before him, when the others
+had gone, and Mrs. Van was helping Dolores with the dishes.
+
+"Say, Mrs. Van, when you get through with those dishes come outside a
+minute; I want to talk to you," he said as he threw open the door.
+
+The shack boasted no veranda, but there were three small steps. Scott
+seated himself on the top one and rolled a cigarette. The air was chilly.
+The sun had sunk behind the mountains and outlined their rugged shapes
+with golden lines against the purple. Everything was very still--there was
+not a sound except for the faint strains of the victrola, which Jimmy
+Adams always played for an hour after supper. A few figures moved about in
+and out of the other cabins; not many--for the working force was light
+these days. A light in the store showed that Williams was keeping open
+house as usual.
+
+The door opened and Mrs. Van came out and sat beside him on the step.
+
+"Well?" she said, quietly, "what's the matter?"
+
+"I'm in the deuce of a mess," replied Scott.
+
+"You mean Indians?"
+
+"Worse than that--it's a woman, Mrs. Van."
+
+"A woman!" Mrs. Van was plainly shocked. "My land, Marc Scott, you ain't
+been foolin' with that heathen in the kitchen?"
+
+Scott chuckled. "Listen, Mrs. Van, I oughtn't to string you like that--it
+is a woman, though. You heard me read that letter of Bob's?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He said to read the mail."
+
+"Well, haven't you?"
+
+"Yes, and the first one I tumbled into feet foremost was a confidential
+one from his sister. She says she's coming down here. She thinks he's
+here."
+
+"What? You mean here? Athens?"
+
+"That's what she says. The letter's been lying over at Conejo since
+Tuesday and the chances are she's there by this time."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Oh, that ain't the worst. It was a confidential letter. She said----"
+Scott paused in embarrassment.
+
+"I'm not telling you this for fun, Mrs. Van Zandt, but because I don't
+know what to do. You're a lady----"
+
+"Oh, go on, what's the matter with you? I guess if you know it it ain't
+going to hurt me. Has she run off with somebody, or has her Pa lost his
+money, or what?"
+
+"I'll show you." Scott fished out Polly's letter apologetically. "I
+stopped reading it directly I saw it was confidential," he continued, "but
+I got this much at one swallow."
+
+"DEAR BOB:
+
+"I know it's awfully nervy of me to drop in on you and Emma right at the
+beginning of your honeymoon, but I am coming just the same. Joyce
+Henderson has behaved atrociously to me."
+
+"That's all I read," concluded Scott, penitently. "Joyce Henderson is the
+fellow she's engaged to--Bob told me that. I had to look at the end to see
+if she said when she was coming, and by George, if she started when she
+said she was going to, she ought to be in Conejo right now."
+
+"Now!!"
+
+"What we're going to do with her, I don't know, do you?"
+
+"She and the wedding couple have just crossed each other!"
+
+"Looks like it. Look here, Mrs. Van, what am I going to do? If I don't
+look her up, God knows what'll happen to her over in Conejo, unless she
+has sense enough to go to the Morgans. If I do, she's going to raise merry
+heck because I read that letter about the fellow jilting her. Now I
+thought maybe if you'd let on that you read it--a girl wouldn't mind
+another woman's knowing a thing like that as much as she would a man."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt surveyed Scott pityingly.
+
+"It always seems so queer to me that a man can have so much muscle and so
+little horse sense," she said at length.
+
+"But----"
+
+"There ain't any use my explaining; you wouldn't get me," she went on,
+impatiently. "But here's something even you can understand. I'd look nice
+opening the boss's mail, wouldn't I? Now you've read the worst of it you
+might as well dip into it far enough to find out just when she's coming.
+Somebody'll have to drive over to Conejo for her as long as the machine's
+busted."
+
+"I've read all I'm going to," said Scott, doggedly. "You can do the
+finding out."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt grunted, arranged a pair of eyeglasses which sat uneasily
+on a nose ill adapted to them, and glanced at the letter. She gave a sigh
+of relief.
+
+"She says she's going straight to the Morgans' when she gets to Conejo.
+Bob's told her about them. Prob'ly Morgan'll run her over in his car. She
+ain't very definite about time; don't seem to know just how long she'll be
+detained at the border."
+
+"Unless they're all fools up there she'll be detained some time," said
+Scott, disgustedly. "Well, I'll go and get the Morgans on the wire and see
+if they've seen anything of her," and he strode away toward the office.
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt sat watching him as he swung down the street. The sun's
+gilding had faded from the mountains and it was growing dark. Here and
+there a star peeped out as though to commiserate Athens upon its
+loneliness.
+
+"It is lonely," Mrs. Van said to herself. "I don't know as I ever felt it
+so much before. I hope it don't mean that we're going to have trouble.
+Sometimes I think I must be psychic--I seem to sense things so. Wish that
+girl had stayed at home, but, Lord, I'd of done the same thing at her age.
+That's a youngster's first idea when things go wrong--to run away. As
+though you could run away from things!"
+
+The lady shook her head pessimistically and drew her sweater more closely
+about her as the air grew chillier. A short plump figure with a shawl
+wrapped around its head came out from the back of the house and melted
+into the darkness.
+
+"Is that you, Dolores?"
+
+"Si. The deeshes all feenish," said Dolores, promptly.
+
+"Did you wash out the dish towels?"
+
+"Si. All done. I go to bed." Dolores disappeared.
+
+"You're a liar," breathed Mrs. Van, softly. "You ain't goin' to bed,
+you're goin' to set and spoon with that good-looking cousin of yours.
+Well, go to it. You're only young once and this country'd drive a woman to
+most anything." Her eyes twinkled humorously. When Mrs. Van's eyes
+twinkled you forgot that her face was hard.
+
+"My, but they're hittin' it up on Broadway about this time! Let's
+see--it'll be about eleven--the theatres just lettin' out, crowds going up
+and down and pouring into restaurants. Say, ain't it queer the difference
+in people's lives? There's them sitting on plush and eating lobster, and
+here's me looking into emptiness and half expecting to see a Yaqui
+grinning at me from behind a bush! Hullo, you back?"
+
+Scott, accompanied by Hard, came down the street again. Both seemed
+disturbed.
+
+"Well," remarked the former, grimly. "She's started."
+
+"Started?" Mrs. Van rose. "What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I got Jack Morgan's mother on the 'phone," said Scott. "Seems she'd been
+trying to get us. The girl got into Conejo about six--just after our train
+pulled out--tried to get us on the 'phone and couldn't; so she got a
+machine and is on the way over."
+
+"Got a machine!" Mrs. Van gasped. "Are the Morgans crazy?"
+
+"Jack and his wife have gone over to Mescal with their car and there's
+nobody home but the old lady and the youngsters. Old lady Morgan's deaf
+and hollers over the wire so I couldn't get much of what she said,"
+continued Scott, ruefully. "I made up my mind that she'd got old Mendoza
+to bring her over in his Ford. Guess it's up to me to harness up and go
+over to meet them."
+
+"I should say so. That girl must be scared to death if nothing worse has
+happened to her."
+
+"Nothing worse will happen to her with Mendoza--unless he runs her into an
+arroyo. Mendoza's principles are better than his eyesight. But, believe
+me, she deserves to be scared. It might put a little sense into her."
+
+"Shall I drive over with you?" queried Hard.
+
+"No, but you might help Mrs. Van move our things down to Jimmy's. I
+thought we'd put her in our shack, Mrs. Van, and you could come up and
+stay with her." And Scott swung off into the direction of the corral.
+
+The other two proceeded to the company house, as the superintendent's
+quarters were called.
+
+"Well," said the lady, as they began to pack the two men's belongings, "I
+expected to get this house ready for a bride and groom but I must say I
+wasn't looking for a lone woman. And yet if I'd had my wits about me I
+might have known. Only last night Dolores and me were running the Ouija
+and it says--look out for trouble--just as plain as that!"
+
+"I shouldn't call her anything as bad as that," said Hard, crossing to
+where the photograph of Polly Street hung over the fireplace.
+
+The picture showed a small girl, probably about ten or eleven; a fat
+little girl with chubby legs only half covered with socks, and with
+dimples in the knees; a little girl with very wide open eyes and a plump
+face, a firmly shaped mouth and a serious expression; a little girl with
+frizzly hair and freckles that the photographer had failed to retouch, in
+a costume consisting of a short skirt, middy, and tam-o'-shanter.
+
+"I wouldn't call her a trouble maker," said Hard, laughing, "unless she's
+changed a lot in ten years."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+EN ROUTE
+
+
+To say that the days which followed Miss Street's unconventional decision
+passed in a whirl is to be both trite and truthful. In fact, it was not
+until she had crossed the border that she found leisure to reflect.
+
+To begin with, the parents had been difficult, as good parents usually are
+when youth begins to chafe at restriction, especially if youth happens to
+belong to the weaker but no longer the less adventurous sex. The Streets
+were easy-going people who liked to live by the way. They were not
+ambitious and they were not adventurous and they hated letting go of their
+children. It was bad enough to have a son marooned in a mining camp
+without losing a daughter in the same way. Only downright persuasion by
+the daughter, combined with remembrance of quite unalarming letters from
+the son resulted in the desired permission.
+
+"After all, if Emma's parents let her go down there, I suppose we needn't
+be afraid," said Mrs. Street, who disliked argument.
+
+"In my opinion, Emma's parents are fools," replied Mr. Street, sternly.
+"Or else, like us, they've raised a daughter they can't control."
+
+"I wouldn't put it that way, Elbridge!"
+
+"I would. You might as well look things in the face."
+
+"But, Father, you know Bob's part of the country has been very calm; and I
+never get a chance to do anything interesting! You sat down on me when I
+wanted to drive a motor truck in France----"
+
+Any father can continue this lament from memory. The discussion had ended
+as discussions with spoiled children usually end. There had been a hurried
+packing and the familiar trip across the continent. It was only when she
+alighted at a border town and after some anxious hours waiting to have her
+passports viséd and her transportation arranged, embarked on the shabby
+south-bound train on the other side, that Polly fully realized the
+expedition to which she was committed.
+
+Up to this time her thoughts had been of the life she was leaving, and, it
+must be admitted, of Joyce Henderson. From Illinois to Texas she told
+herself exactly what she thought of a man who could so boldly and plainly
+and with such an evident relief accept his dismissal at the hands of the
+girl he had claimed to love; but by the time the train had jogged through
+miles of queer brownish yellow country, dotted with mesquite and punctured
+with cactus, relieved here and there by foothills, and frowned upon by
+distant mountains, her meditations assumed a more cheerful complexion.
+
+The outlook, monotonous as it was, fascinated her. There were adobe houses
+with brown youngsters playing in the scanty shade, much as one sees them
+in New Mexico and Arizona; there were uprooted rails and the ruins of
+burned cars--evidences of civil war unknown on our side of the line. There
+was a strong wind blowing--the early spring wind of the Southwest, but the
+sun shone hotly and one felt stuffy and uncomfortable in the car. The sand
+which was caught up by the wind blew in one's face and down one's throat
+and made closed windows a necessity.
+
+There were a good many people traveling, for a country in a reputedly
+unsettled condition, Polly thought, and wished that she could understand
+the fragments of conversation that she heard.
+
+"Why didn't I take Spanish instead of French at school? I always seem to
+have chosen the most useless things to study! I wish I knew what those two
+fat women without any hats on are talking about--me, I suppose, for they
+keep looking over here. That man is American--or English. If I were Bob,
+I'd amble over and get up a conversation with him and find out all the
+interesting things I'm missing. I'll bet he owns a mine down here
+somewhere. How fascinating!"
+
+Polly's imagination immediately forsook the American and indulged in a
+rosy picture of herself as the owner of a mine--a gold mine--coal was too
+unromantic. She saw herself in a short skirt and a sombrero superintending
+the exertions of a number of dusky workers who were loading neat little
+gold bars on the backs of patient burros.
+
+This delightful picture occupied her fully until the train stopped and she
+had to get out. This train did not go all the way to Conejo, but left one
+at a junction called Pecos where twice a week if convenient for all
+parties a smaller train rattled its way across the plain and into the
+mountains among which Conejo nestled. It is not necessary to describe
+Pecos; its only reason for existence was the fact that it owned and
+operated a smelter.
+
+This second train was the shortest that Polly had ever seen. It consisted
+of an engine, two coal cars, a baggage car, and one passenger coach--this
+last very dirty as to floor and windows and very creaky as to joints.
+There were on this occasion but four passengers beside Polly; the two fat
+ladies, who were, if she had only known it, members of the first families
+of Conejo; an old man who sat in a corner and read a German paper; and a
+young Mexican, well dressed and of a gentlemanly appearance, who sat
+across the narrow aisle from Polly, smoking innumerable cigarettes and
+glancing at her whenever he thought she was not looking.
+
+Polly, however, was too much interested in the changes of scenery to
+notice anything as ordinary as a good-looking young man. The country was
+changing, gradually, but still unmistakably changing, from a desert, flat
+and stifling, to a region of small hills and valleys; still brownish
+yellow, but with the monotony of mesquite varied by live oaks, and in some
+cases by shallow little streams along whose banks grew cottonwoods, their
+green foliage restful to the eye weary of desert bareness.
+
+Many of the cacti were in their beautiful bloom and gave to the country
+the needed dash of color. Occasionally one saw small herds of cattle
+feeding off the short stubby vegetation. They were drawing near the
+mountains, whose gauntness seemed less when approached.
+
+"They're like ugly people--grow better looking as you get to know them,"
+mused Polly. "Oh, my gracious, what's the matter now?" The puffing little
+engine had given up trying to make the steep grade it had been
+negotiating, and had stopped with one last desperate wheeze. No one seemed
+surprised. The fat ladies went on talking and the old man continued to
+read his paper. The trainmen were outside, doing something, Polly couldn't
+make out what, perhaps only talking about doing something. "Oh, dear, I
+wonder what has happened!"
+
+In her excitement she must have said it aloud, for the young man across
+the way sprang to his feet and was at her side instantly. A keen observer
+might have drawn the conclusion that he had been waiting for some such
+opportunity.
+
+"I beg pardon, señorita, but it is that the engine cannot make the grade,"
+he volunteered, politely, in English almost without an accent--or perhaps
+I should say with an intonation English rather than American, though with
+a slightly Latin arrangement of phrase.
+
+"Oh, I see," Polly replied blankly. The young man had been rather sudden,
+and he continued to stand in a disconcerting way, hat in hand, in the
+aisle. He appeared to be very young, hardly more than nineteen, Polly
+thought, and handsome in a dark way. He had large dark eyes, very white
+teeth, a smooth olive skin without the mustache which so many Spaniards
+wear, and a rather prominent under jaw and chin.
+
+"You see," he continued, "they take the first car over to Conejo and then
+come back for us."
+
+"Do you mean to say that they'll leave us here, perched on the side of
+this hill, while they run off with the engine?" demanded Polly, eyeing the
+trainmen indignantly. In fact, she was so busy being indignant with them
+that she omitted to notice that the young man had slipped into the seat
+opposite her. That fact, however, had not escaped the fat ladies in the
+rear, one of whom said to the other in shocked Spanish:
+
+"It is Juan Pachuca!"
+
+"So it is," replied the other. "I had thought him in the South."
+
+"Who knows where he is? A wicked person, my dear, a very wicked person. My
+sister's husband says he will get himself shot before he finishes."
+
+"Undoubtedly," said the other, placidly. "So many young men are being shot
+these days. I thought that young woman was an actress--now I am sure of
+it."
+
+"Yes," replied Juan Pachuca to Polly's question. "But do not be alarmed.
+They will come back in a couple of hours."
+
+"A couple of hours!" The girl's voice was horrified. "But I expected to be
+in Conejo in a couple of hours. I'm in a hurry."
+
+"One should never be in a hurry in Mexico, señorita, it does not--what is
+it you say--it does not pay."
+
+"Apparently." Polly replied coolly, realizing suddenly that this
+good-looking boy was regarding the conversation as a thing established.
+
+The stranger was correct in his guess. Uncoupled from the rest of the
+train, their coach remained poised uncomfortably half-way up the hill,
+while the engine, still puffing and wheezing like a stout man going
+upstairs, pulled the open cars and the baggage car up the grade and,
+disappearing through a gap in the hill, became only a faint noise and a
+trail of thin smoke. Polly laughed in spite of herself and the young man
+responded with a smile that revealed two dazzling rows of teeth.
+
+"_Mañana_!" he laughed. "So we say down here and so we do. You find it
+amusing, señorita, after your country?"
+
+"It's different, you must admit. We at least aim to reach places on
+time."
+
+"Yes, that is the difference--you aim, we do not," replied the other,
+thoughtfully. "Some day--but perhaps the señorita will get out and have a
+breath of fresh air? There is, alas, plenty of time."
+
+A mischievous impulse seized the girl. She felt as she used to feel when
+as a small, fat, freckled youngster she had sat still as long as she
+possibly could in school and then despite the teacher's stern eye her
+nervous energy had got the better of her.
+
+"After all he's only a boy," she told herself. "I'll bet he isn't any
+older than my freshmen cousins. What's the harm?"
+
+Outside the sun was hot but the wind was fresh and cool.
+
+"Through that cut in the mountains and around a curve is Conejo," said
+Juan Pachuca, as Polly, glad to be out of the hot car, drew long breaths
+of the splendid air. "You have friends there?"
+
+"In Conejo? Oh no, my brother lives in Athens. That's where I am going. He
+is superintendent of a coal mine there."
+
+"Athens? That is some distance from Conejo. Of course your brother will
+meet you?"
+
+"Of course," replied Polly, with the faith of the American girl in the
+male of the species. "They have a little coal train that runs to Conejo
+and he'll probably come in on that."
+
+"I think you must be Señorita Street?" mused the young man.
+
+"Oh," Polly dimpled pleasantly. "You know Bob then?"
+
+Juan Pachuca's dark eyes smiled. "Not exactly--but I have met him. Me, I
+have a place south of Conejo--quite a long way--I am what you might call a
+long-distance neighbor. My name is Pachuca--Juan Pachuca."
+
+"I see. Are you in the mining business, too?"
+
+"Not now. Oh, I have mining property, but further south. My people live in
+Mexico City. In Sonora I have a small ranch."
+
+"You speak English rather wonderfully, you know, señor," said the girl.
+"But more like an Englishman than an American."
+
+"It is very likely. My sister--she is much older than I--married an
+Englishman, and her children had English governesses. When I was young I
+had my lessons with them."
+
+So from one thing to another the conversation ran, very much as it does
+with two young people of any nationalities, granted a common language.
+Polly talked a good deal about Bob. Juan Pachuca seemed interested in all
+the details that she could give him about the mine. His manner was very
+respectful. If he had not met many American girls he had evidently heard
+much about them, for he did not seem to misunderstand the situation as
+many Latins would have done. Before the girl had realized it the two hours
+were over and the little engine reappeared.
+
+Conejo should, I believe, be called a town. The people who live in it
+always dignify it by that name and they probably have a reason for so
+doing. To one holding advanced ideas as to towns, it seems at a first
+glance to be only a collection of pinkish looking adobes which on
+inspection turn out to be a church, a store, a jail, a saloon, a hotel--at
+which no one stays who has a friend to take him in--and some private
+houses. It is Juarez without the bull ring, the racetrack or the gambling
+places.
+
+It is situated rather flatly between two ranges of mountains and when
+Polly Street landed there at about six o'clock--a trying hour in
+itself--it was in the grip of a sand-storm. One's first sand-storm is
+always a surprise. It looks so innocent from behind a window pane; just
+sand--blowing about rather swiftly, whirling in spirals, beating against
+the glass, piling itself up in drifts--an interesting sight but not a
+terrifying one.
+
+Polly had been a little surprised to see the fat ladies array themselves
+in goggles before descending from the train, and had laughingly refused an
+offer of his own from Juan Pachuca, who promptly put them on himself. But
+when she alighted from the train onto the platform which extended from the
+rear end of the general merchandise store, and which served as station,
+waiting parlor and baggage-room, she gasped in dismay. It was as though
+thousands of tiny pieces of glass had struck her in the face and throat.
+
+Before she could get her breath they struck her again and again; sharp,
+vindictive, piercing little particles they were. She shut her eyes and put
+her hands to her bare throat to protect it. Suddenly she felt a hand on
+her arm and Juan Pachuca's voice said:
+
+"Keep them shut and let me lead you. I told you what sand-storms
+were--you'd better have taken the goggles."
+
+Polly succumbed and felt herself being led along the platform.
+
+"There, we're in the store," said the young man. "Rather nasty, eh?"
+
+"Awful! I never felt anything like it," gasped the girl, shaking the sand
+from her clothes. "And it isn't sand, it's gravel. No wonder you wear
+goggles!"
+
+"I find them most convenient for many purposes," was the reply.
+
+Polly noticed that he still had them on though they were in the store.
+They gave him a queer, oldish appearance and quite spoiled his good looks.
+Polly herself was beginning to feel disturbed. She wanted Bob and she
+wanted him immediately. She looked about her anxiously.
+
+The store was larger than it appeared from without and carried a varied
+line of goods piled up on shelves or displayed on counters. On one side,
+it seemed to be a grocery store; on the other, dry-goods, shoes, and hats
+were set forth, while in the rear were saddles, bridles and other
+paraphernalia in leather. A big stove in the middle of the room gave out a
+cheerful warmth, for the air was growing very cool as the sun went down.
+
+There were a few people, Mexicans and Indians, in the place and they all
+stared curiously at the pretty American. Polly did not realize, though she
+was not in the habit of underrating her attractions, how very noticeable
+she was in that environment, as she stood there, her tan traveling coat
+thrown open showing her dainty white waist, her short, trim skirt with its
+big plaid squares, and her neat brown silk stockings and oxfords. Conejo
+had not seen her like in many moons and it stared its full.
+
+"I think Bob would be at the station. If I could go there----" Polly
+began, with a little lump in her throat.
+
+"This is the station," said Pachuca. "It is Jacob Swartz' store and the
+station as well."
+
+"Then something has happened to my letter. He never would have
+disappointed me like this," said the girl, despairingly.
+
+"That is quite possible. If you would let me serve you in this matter,
+señorita? I have a car at the house of a friend just out of town. I am
+driving to my ranch in it to-morrow. If you would let me drive you to
+Athens----"
+
+"Drive in an open car in that?" the girl pointed to the whirling sand
+outside. "How could we?"
+
+"Easily. Once on our way into the mountains we will leave it behind us."
+
+"Oh, thank you very much, señor, you're very kind, but if Bob doesn't come
+I can go to some friends of his, English people, the Morgans, and they
+will drive me over in the morning." She was conscious of a sudden desire
+to get away from this polite youth who stuck so tightly. It was all very
+well to let him amuse her on the train--that was adventure; but to drive
+with him through a strange country at night would be pure madness. She
+thought he stiffened a bit at her words.
+
+"English people? Oh, yes, undoubtedly that will be wise. Swartz can
+probably tell you where to find them."
+
+"Yes, of course." Polly was glad to see that he was going to leave her.
+"Thank you again, señor, for your kindness."
+
+"It has been a great pleasure," and the young man was gone.
+
+Polly clenched her hands nervously. Where, oh, where was Bob? Why hadn't
+she telegraphed instead of trusting to a letter? At this juncture her
+glance fell upon a small counter over which the sign P. O. was displayed.
+Behind the counter sat a stout man in spectacles--Jacob Swartz,
+undoubtedly. Polly accosted him timidly.
+
+"Has anyone been in from Athens to-day?" she said.
+
+"Athens? Sure, dere train come up dis morning; dey wendt back an hour
+ago."
+
+"Was Mr. Street here--Mr. Robert Street?"
+
+"No, joost the train gang. Dey wendt back when dey got dere mail."
+
+"Do--do they come every day for the mail?"
+
+"No, joost twice a week. Dere mail ain't so heavy it can't wait dat long."
+Swartz peered benevolently over his spectacles.
+
+"I'm Mr. Street's sister. I wrote him I was coming, but I suppose if he
+only gets his mail twice a week he hasn't had my letter." Polly bit her
+lip impatiently. "I want to go over to the Morgans--Mr. Jack Morgan. Can
+you show me where they live?"
+
+"Sure can I," replied Swartz, lumbering to his feet. "You can from the
+door see it."
+
+Polly followed him in relief, when suddenly the door opened and a little
+old lady literally blew in. She stamped her feet as though it were snow
+instead of sand that clung to her, and disengaged her head from the thick
+white veil in which she had wrapped it.
+
+"Mein Gott, it is old lady Morgan, herself," said Swartz, nudging Polly,
+pleasantly.
+
+"What's that? Somebody wanting me?" replied the lady, still occupied with
+the veil. "Where's that tea I told you to send me this morning, Swartz? A
+fine thing to make me come out in all this for a pound of tea, just
+because I've nobody to send and two sick children on my hands! What? Oh, I
+can't hear you! Who d'you say wants me?"
+
+She was a thin, bent old lady with straggly gray hair and a very sharp
+penetrating voice. Polly felt the lump in her throat growing larger. Was
+this the jolly pretty Mrs. Jack Morgan that Bob had written about so
+often?
+
+"Dis young voman----" began Swartz, heavily.
+
+Polly stepped forward.
+
+"Mrs. Morgan, this is Bob Street's sister. He has often written us about
+you and your husband."
+
+"Husband? She ain't got no husband," interrupted Mr. Swartz, heatedly.
+"Ain't I told you dis iss de old lady--Jack Morgan's mother?"
+
+"I'm a little hard of hearing, my dear. Who did you say you were?" asked
+Jack Morgan's mother, patiently.
+
+Polly repeated her explanation, adding a few more particulars, all as
+loudly as possible. They had now an interested audience of Mexicans and
+Indians, male and female, old and young, who found the scene none the less
+attractive because they did not understand it.
+
+"Well, I suppose he didn't get your letter," said Mrs. Morgan. "Jack and
+his wife have gone over to spend a few days with some friends in Mescal or
+they'd run you over in the car." There was a pause as Polly digested this
+unwelcome bit of news, then the old lady continued: "They'd only been gone
+two days when both the children came down with mumps, and my Mexican
+woman's husband had to take that time to join the army, so, of course, she
+had to leave. If things weren't so messed up I'd take you home with
+me----"
+
+"Oh, no," said Polly, promptly. "I couldn't think of it. If I could just
+get somebody to drive me over----" Both she and Mrs. Morgan looked at
+Swartz.
+
+"Mendoza might if he ain't drunk--sometimes he ain't," volunteered that
+gentleman.
+
+"Oh, no, I don't think I'd like him," shivered Polly. "Isn't there anybody
+else?"
+
+"Nobody with a car," replied Mrs. Morgan. "It'd take you till morning to
+drive over--the roads are awful. Mendoza is a very decent old thing. You
+go and see if you can get him, Swartz," and Swartz lumbered away. Old lady
+Morgan understood how to make herself obeyed. "Have you tried to get
+Athens on the 'phone?"
+
+"Telephone?" A smile broke over Polly's unhappy face. "Why, I never
+thought of that."
+
+"Good heavens, child, where do you think you are? Here, I'll get them for
+you."
+
+She led the way to the office.
+
+"I haven't seen your brother since he went up to Douglas to get married,"
+she said. "Didn't know they'd come home."
+
+"Oh, yes, they must be home," said Polly, an awful doubt coming into her
+mind. "They--they must be home!"
+
+Mrs. Morgan seized the receiver and began exchanging insults with the
+invisible Central. After several minutes she gave up the effort.
+
+"It's no use, I can't raise them--our service is dreadful down here," she
+said. "Now, I'll tell you what to do. I've got to run home before the baby
+wakes up; if he can't get Mendoza, you come on down to the house and stay
+the night with me. See, it's the last house--got a Union Jack flying from
+it. If I don't see you in half an hour I'll know you've gone with Mendoza.
+You needn't be afraid of him--he's half dead but he can drive a Ford," and
+the voluble old lady was gone.
+
+Polly wondered for a moment whether she most wanted to laugh or cry.
+Homesickness and fatigue suggested the latter, but a wild sense of humor
+poised between the decrepit Mendoza and the deaf Mrs. Morgan won the day.
+Polly chuckled. Then realizing that it was nearly seven and that she had
+had nothing to eat since noon, she went to the counter and bought of a
+Mexican youth, evidently a helper, some crackers. They were in a box and
+looked a degree cleaner than anything else. The population had wearied of
+the American lady and had gone its various ways. Polly sat forlornly on a
+high stool and munched her crackers until Swartz returned.
+
+"No good," he said. "Mendoza's sick and he won't let nobody else drive de
+car. You better go stay mit de old lady."
+
+"All right," said the girl, rising. "I suppose I can leave my trunk on
+your back porch?"
+
+"Vy not? Ain't it der station? Vere should you leaf it?" replied Swartz,
+hospitably.
+
+Polly stepped out of the front door. The sand blizzard was undoubtedly on
+the wane. The wind was less violent but much cooler. The sun had dropped
+behind the mountains and the dusk was descending upon the little Mexican
+town. A few of the houses showed a light, but more of them were dark. The
+Morgan house, a very long way down the street, it seemed to the girl, was
+lit and she started to go toward it. A sense of desolation, a forlornness
+greater than she had ever known in all her short life descended upon her.
+She swallowed quickly and increased her pace. It wasn't fear, she
+reflected, it was worse than fear; it was the awful loneliness of one who
+had never been really alone in her life.
+
+"It's the first night at boarding-school multiplied by a thousand," she
+sobbed softly. "Oh, why did I come to this awful place? I simply can't
+stay all night with that deaf woman and those mumpy children! I----"
+
+She jumped back in time to avoid an automobile which seemed to flash out
+of nothingness at her elbow. As she stood looking after it a wild hope
+came into her head that it might be Bob after all. The car stopped and a
+man jumped out.
+
+"Is it you, señorita?" he exclaimed, "alone and in the dark?"
+
+It was Juan Pachuca. Polly sighed, disappointed to tears. She tried to
+explain the situation.
+
+"But in two hours I will have you in Athens," he begged. "Or is it that
+you wish to stay with these people?"
+
+"Of course I don't wish to stay! The children have the mumps and the poor
+old lady is nearly wild."
+
+"Come. Give me that bag. So--I thought all Americans were sensible
+people!" And before Polly could object she found herself seated in the car
+with Juan Pachuca driving silently at her side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+JUAN PACHUCA
+
+
+About half an hour after his conversation with Mrs. Van Zandt, Marc Scott
+drove the buckboard with its two lively horses out on the Conejo road.
+Beside him sat a blond dog of mixed genealogy answering to the name of
+"Yellow." Scott had put on a coat over his flannel shirt, tucked his
+trousers into a pair of riding boots, and replaced his sombrero with a
+soft cloth hat. These changes having been made in honor of the visitor, he
+felt that his duty had been fulfilled and he addressed Yellow
+ruminatively:
+
+"Well, I expect we got to brush up a bit on our manners if we're going to
+have a young lady around, eh, Yellow? Going to be some strain on us both,
+I'll say. Funny idea to run off to a place like this just because you've
+quarreled with your young man! Got the temper that goes with red hair, I
+guess. I remember a red-haired girl I used to know in Detroit----" A grin
+succeeded the worried look on Scott's face; evidently the adventure with
+the red-haired girl had had its humorous side.
+
+"Well, get up, Romeo, we've got to reach that girl before Mendoza dumps
+her in the ditch and gets her mussed up or the boss'll fire us both."
+
+Romeo, a good-looking gray, with an excitable nature, snorted as he felt
+the touch of the whip and dragged his gentler mate into a lively trot. A
+new moon, clear cut and beautiful, was rising behind them, over the tall
+mountains, making the valley--so bare by day--lovely and mysterious in its
+half light.
+
+"No kind of a night to be driving around with a dog, Yellow," remarked the
+driver, reproachfully. "Men and moonlight are made for better things."
+
+The horses trotted briskly; they were covering ground rapidly. They ought,
+Marc figured, to meet the machine this side of Junipero Hill, a steep and
+cruel grade which he would be glad to spare his horses if he could. If
+Mendoza was making any sort of speed he ought to have come that far. He
+began to watch for the lights of the machine. The girl must be plucky,
+even if she was foolish, to dare a trip like this with a strange Mexican.
+
+Well, he was glad Bob's sister was nervy; he liked nervy girls and he
+liked Bob. Usually fellows who came out from college and took positions
+over other men's heads made fools of themselves; but Bob was not a fool.
+He was a decent, likable young chap, who knew he had been luckier than the
+next fellow and who took no advantage of it.
+
+"Which is more than you can say of most rich men's sons," soliloquized
+Scott. "But then why should you expect sense from a rich man's son?
+Where'd they get it? It's hard knocks gives a man sense--if he's ever
+going to get it, which most of them ain't!"
+
+There was loneliness in the air. Scott, who was temperamental, as
+out-of-doors men often are, felt it keenly. It brought before him more
+clearly the loneliness of his own life, a life spent in out-of-the-way
+places, largely among men; a life with no roots, he sometimes felt. Yet he
+would not have traded his freedom, he would have told you, for any woman,
+for a home or for children. To be foot loose, to go where fancy called
+him, to have no ties--no clogs upon his precious liberty, that was what he
+loved.
+
+He was fond of women, too. He liked being with them and he liked measuring
+each one he met with his ideal, a hazy creature who probably did not
+exist. Well, he rather hoped she didn't, or if she did that he would never
+meet her. He had known too many men who had traded their freedom for a
+home and a fireside and who, once bound, had never been able to go back to
+the old life. It had not always been the women who had held them, either;
+the men themselves had seemed to change--to deteriorate, Scott would have
+said--to have lost the energy and the vigor that made life worth while.
+You cannot get anything for nothing and you paid for the happiness you
+might find in marriage with the loss of the one thing which was to him the
+most important thing in all life--liberty.
+
+So they jogged along, Scott whistling to keep himself company.
+Occasionally, Yellow would insist upon getting out for a run, but he
+seemed glad to return. After a while it began to seem odd to Scott that he
+did not see the lights of Mendoza's car. Even a cautious driver should
+have made the distance by this time.
+
+Suddenly, an idea popped into his head--one of those clammy ideas, which
+come instantly, and come with a chill; ideas that are positively physical
+in the way in which they affect one. Suppose it was Mendoza's car with
+someone else driving it? Someone of the score of half-breeds who hung
+around the livery stable where the car was kept? Scott leaned over and
+laid the whip on the innocent Romeo.
+
+"My God, horse, we've got to go some the rest of the way! If----"
+
+He did not finish the sentence. They had reached the top of a hill and he
+put on the brake as they started down. At the foot of the hill stood an
+automobile--not Mendoza's shabby little Ford--but a big car with two large
+headlights. It was turned across the road and not a soul was in sight.
+Scott took his foot off the brake and with a muttered curse let the
+buckboard rattle down the hill.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Polly's first sensation, as she sank into the comfortable seat next the
+driver and buried her face in the collar of her coat, was one of intense
+relief. This was something that seemed like home. She felt herself being
+whirled up the streets of Conejo with the feeling of one who is escaping,
+the flight being for the time of more importance than the fashion in which
+one flies.
+
+"I think you will be cold," said a polite voice at her elbow. "Wait--I
+have a robe." And a blanket which smelled of the stable rather than of the
+garage was wrapped carefully around her. "In a few moments we shall be out
+of this sand."
+
+For a while they rode in silence, then the girl said, apologetically:
+
+"I am so sorry. I didn't want you to go to all this trouble--but I
+couldn't stay in that awful place when Bob is so near!"
+
+"If you think Conejo is bad I wonder what you would think of some of our
+towns further south? They are ruins."
+
+"Ruins?"
+
+"Ten years of revolution--they do not improve a country."
+
+Polly did not reply. She peeped out of her collar and saw that Pachuca's
+prophecy was fulfilled. They had ridden out of the area of the sand-storm
+and were getting into the foothills where the air was cold and clear. They
+faced the new moon which gave an eerie look to everything--the distant
+mountains, the foothills with their weird patches of vegetation, tall
+cacti and dark looking arroyos. Far, far in their rear could be seen the
+few feeble lights of Conejo. It began to dawn upon an awed Polly that she
+was doing not an unconventional but a distinctly risky thing.
+
+What did she know about this good-looking boy who sat beside her, guiding
+the car so expertly through the ruts and chuck holes that chopped up the
+road? Suppose he turned out to be--she caught her breath angrily! He was
+no common Mexican but a gentleman and one was not afraid of men of one's
+own class, she told herself. She would not be afraid. She hated people who
+were afraid. She was having a wonderful experience; the sort of an
+experience that girls read about but didn't have, and she was going to
+enjoy it.
+
+"I forgot to ask you if you had anything to eat," said Juan Pachuca. "You
+didn't, did you?"
+
+"I had crackers," said Polly. "What did you have?"
+
+"I was more fortunate. I found my friend at dinner," replied the young
+man.
+
+"Where were you going when you met me?"
+
+"Eventually to my ranch, but first to find you. I did not think you would
+stay with the Señora Morgan."
+
+Polly laughed in spite of herself.
+
+"I couldn't," she confessed. "Do you know, she seemed to think it doubtful
+that Bob and Emma had come back to Athens? I wonder why?"
+
+"Perhaps," replied the Mexican, "she thought the country not quite safe
+for a young lady."
+
+"But I thought things were settling down?"
+
+"There will be no settling down until after the elections."
+
+"The elections?"
+
+"You would not understand. Americans never do."
+
+"Perhaps some of us might if you gave us a chance; but when you go rearing
+and pitching around, killing us and raiding border towns like that
+murderous Villa----"
+
+"In war there is no murder," said Juan Pachuca, calmly. "And Villa is a
+friend of mine."
+
+"Well, I can't help it, and I think it's very strange for a well brought
+up boy like you to be friends with a man like Villa."
+
+Pachuca laughed as he glanced at the girl's wrathful face.
+
+"Why do you call me a well brought up boy?" he asked.
+
+"Because you are, aren't you? You remind me a lot of a cousin of mine
+who's just entering college."
+
+"How old is the cousin?"
+
+"Nineteen."
+
+"When I was nineteen I was a colonel in the army," said Juan Pachuca,
+whimsically. "That was six years ago."
+
+"Good gracious!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, in our country we don't take boys of nineteen very seriously," said
+Polly, a little upset. "Did you fight much?"
+
+"A good deal. I suppose then that young men of nineteen do not fall in
+love either in your country?"
+
+"Oh, yes, they do, but nobody pays much attention to them. We call it
+puppy love."
+
+"Puppy love!" Juan frowned. "You are a strange people--you Americans."
+
+"Yes, I suppose we are but we like ourselves that way. Do you think that
+engine of yours is all right? It sounds queer to me."
+
+Pachuca shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It gives me trouble sometimes. It needs what you call an overhauling, but
+it will take us to Athens."
+
+Polly, with an ear trained to engine sounds, wondered whether it would.
+She felt that the last straw would be to be stranded in the middle of the
+night in a lonely spot with this good-looking young man, who, to make
+matters worse, had turned out to be twenty-five instead of nineteen. Again
+they sat in silence while the machine wrenched itself in and out of ruts
+and through arroyos.
+
+She found herself wondering what his life had been? A colonel at nineteen!
+She remembered the boys she had known in our own army, boys she had fed
+and sewed for on their way to France. They, too, had seemed young, but she
+felt a great difference. This young man suggested things of which Polly
+knew little. She wondered whether it was imagination that made her fancy
+that he had played a part in life which does not usually fall to
+twenty-five, except in a country so disordered, so desperate as Mexico.
+
+Some of her boy friends who had come back from France and Belgium had
+carried in their faces some such suggestion, but only a few. For the most
+part they had come back as they went over, those who had returned whole;
+husky, lively, youngish chaps--more restless, less satisfied with life at
+home, perhaps, but not older particularly.
+
+"That's why he seems odd to me," she concluded. "He's done and seen things
+that a fellow his age hasn't any business to have done and seen--that is,
+the way we look at it at home. Oh dear, I wonder if we're ever going to
+get there? I can't keep still much longer and yet I hate to stir him up."
+
+"The girls in your country, do they fall in love at nineteen?" said Juan
+Pachuca, suddenly. There was a softness in his voice that under other
+conditions--say, in a ballroom--Polly would probably have described as
+melting. In her present environment it struck her less pleasantly.
+
+"Girls? Oh, yes, of course they do; but not in the desperate, hot-headed
+way your young ladies do. At least, not usually. Of course some girls do
+queer things and get into the newspapers."
+
+"Ah, our young ladies do not get into the newspapers," commented Juan
+Pachuca. "They are guarded quite carefully; that is, our girls of good
+family. Most of them are very beautiful."
+
+"But aren't they just a little bit tiresome? I mean, just being beautiful
+and guarded and all that sort of thing. At home we like a girl who has
+seen a little of life," apologetically.
+
+"Not a young lady of family!" said Pachuca, decidedly.
+
+"Well, of course, in America we don't think a lot about family, though
+it's nice to have it if you can. We think more of education and getting on
+in the world. Señor, I wish you would get down and look at that engine;
+there's something awfully wrong with it."
+
+Polly spoke suddenly for Juan Pachuca was leaning very close to her.
+
+"Your young ladies are charming," he said, softly. "I had always heard it
+and now I know it is true." His black eyes were dancing; it would have
+taken some guessing to know whether with excitement or laughter or both.
+"Do they ever forget themselves so far as to allow themselves a love
+affair on a silver night when----"
+
+"No, they do not," said Polly, half severely and half amused. It was
+difficult to take Juan Pachuca's rudeness seriously and yet--oh, why had
+she come?
+
+"Not a desperate, hot-headed love affair such as pleases the young ladies
+of my country," he pursued, seizing the hand so near him. "But one of
+those--what do you call them in your tongue--flirtations?"
+
+He was laughing but there was a smoldering fire back of the laughter, and
+the grasp of his hand was strong.
+
+"Señor, now please--remember that I didn't come with you because I wanted
+to, but because I had to! Please!" For Pachuca's arm had slid itself
+deftly around her and was drawing her toward him, gently, but with an
+exceeding firmness, while the dancing dark eyes continued to laugh into
+hers. "There, see what you've done!"
+
+The big car had given a most unwieldy lurch, wedged a tire in a rut,
+bounced a couple of times, and stopped--providentially--on the edge of the
+deep gully that fringed the road.
+
+"It is nothing," declared the young man, a bit stunned by the suddenness
+of the affair. The car, however, refusing to back, gave him the lie. Polly
+tore herself from his detaining arm and was out in the road.
+
+"If you had an electric torch I could tell you what it is," she said,
+trying to control both nerves and temper, for she was both frightened and
+angry. "Have you?"
+
+"I think so," replied Pachuca, a little stiffly. "But, please, dear lady,
+do not get down in the dirt! I beg of you!"
+
+"I don't mind. I know every little pain an engine can have. I drove an
+emergency car at home during the war," said Polly, curtly.
+
+"Indeed?" Juan Pachuca's voice was cool. The young lady was
+business-like--too business-like to flirt with--and yet----
+
+"No, it's not that." Polly shook the curls out of her eyes and slammed the
+cover of the radiator. "Where do you think it is? You ought to know
+something about this car; you've been driving it."
+
+Pachuca's eyes danced. What was the use of being stiff with an American?
+They were all alike--the men after money, and the women after what they
+called independence!
+
+"I think," he said, demurely, "that it must be attacked from underneath,
+if you will hold the torch."
+
+"All right." Polly smiled. "Go ahead. If you can't find it, I'll try."
+
+Thus it was that Marc Scott's first acquaintance with Polly Street came as
+he pulled the excited team to its haunches within a few feet of the
+automobile, and she, holding Juan Pachuca's torch, jumped to her feet and
+faced him.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, eagerly, "is that you, Bob?" Then, seeing more clearly,
+"I beg your pardon! We've had trouble with the car, but we've fixed it and
+we'll be out of the way in a moment."
+
+"I'm not Bob Street, but I'm from Athens, and I'm looking for Bob's
+sister. I guess you must be her," replied Scott. "Well, who are you?" he
+added, as Juan Pachuca's legs emerged from the car, followed by his body.
+
+"It's not Mendoza--he's sick," volunteered Polly. "It's a gentleman who
+was in the train and who kindly drove me over. Where is my brother?"
+
+"Your letter only came to-night," stammered Scott, "and in the same mail
+we had one from your brother in Douglas, saying he had been called
+East----"
+
+"East!" The blow was too sudden; Polly's legs collapsed. She sat down on
+the running-board of the machine and gasped. In the meantime Juan Pachuca
+stepped to the buckboard.
+
+"It is Señor Scott?" he said pleasantly. "We have met before."
+
+Scott surveyed him thoughtfully. "Well, by the Lord, if it ain't Johnny
+Pachuca! Of all the nerve----"
+
+"Exactly," grinned Pachuca, appreciatively. "You are surprised, eh? What
+are you going to do about it?"
+
+"That depends upon how you've treated the young lady," said Marc, quietly,
+"and on your general behavior," he added, with a reciprocal grin.
+
+"Haven't I told you that he was kind enough to drive me over?" said Polly,
+impatiently. "And if----"
+
+"That being the case," replied Scott, "I don't know as there's anything I
+can do except say much obliged, and keep my eye on my horse-flesh. If
+you'll get into the wagon, Miss ----"
+
+"Oh, he's all right," said Pachuca, airily, as the girl hesitated. "He's
+the manager of the Athens mine--Marc Scott--a very decent fellow. I regret
+being deprived of your company, señorita, but he evidently intends to take
+you back with him."
+
+"Any baggage?" demanded Scott, gruffly.
+
+"One trunk," replied Polly, rather dazed by the suddenness of the affair.
+"But it's back at Conejo."
+
+"Want any help with that car?"
+
+"No, thank you, the young lady and I have remedied the trouble."
+
+"Of course there's no use in my asking if there's any particular reason
+for your being in this neighborhood, Pachuca?"
+
+"There is always a reason for my being where I am," was the suave reply.
+"This time it does not concern you."
+
+"That's good. No revolutions up your sleeve, eh?"
+
+Pachuca chuckled. "I wouldn't be too sure of that, _amigo_," he said.
+"Would you take the advice of a friend, Marc Scott?"
+
+"I might, if you'd guarantee he ain't lying."
+
+"Then tell your people to close up their mine, take their women and get
+out of the country. There is trouble coming," and the young Mexican bowed
+politely to the girl and returned to his machine.
+
+"Now, what do you suppose the young devil meant by that?" demanded Scott,
+as he turned the team and faced the hill again. Polly's eyes were wide
+open.
+
+"Who is he?" she said, eagerly. "You seemed to know him. Does he really
+live near here?"
+
+"I believe he has a ranch about here somewhere--some ways south. As to
+where he lives I reckon he could hardly tell you that himself."
+
+"But where did you know him?"
+
+"I don't know him. I don't want to know him. The last time I saw him was
+when Villa stopped over with us on one of his retreats. This guy was with
+him. That little visit cost us a dozen good horses, two hundred dollars,
+and our winter's supply of canned goods. He's an expensive acquaintance,
+that fellow."
+
+Polly's face was full of horror. "Do you mean," she gasped, "that I've
+been riding around the country with a Mexican bandit?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know as I'd call him a bandit."
+
+"He told me that he was a colonel in the army!" indignantly.
+
+"Well, he was, so I've heard. He's been quite a lot of things. Maybe we'd
+better not talk about him any more to-night. It's kind of exciting for you
+after all you've been through."
+
+"Exciting!" Polly sank back in her seat limply.
+
+"He was all right to you, wasn't he?" continued Scott, a little shyly.
+"Wasn't fresh or anything like that?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he was all right," murmured the girl, quickly.
+
+"These Mexicans are queer. You can't tell what they'll do," went on Scott.
+"Sometimes they've got manners like the President of the United States,
+and the next time they'll do something that'd disgrace a pirate. Take 'em
+all around as they go, I guess Pachuca stacks up pretty well. He's
+educated and comes of good folks. But how the deuce did you happen----"
+
+"Oh, I suppose it does sound awful!" Polly said, in a rush. "But he was on
+the train and when the horrid little thing stopped on the side of a hill
+for two hours, he came along and explained what was the matter."
+
+"He talks English like a Bostonese," said Scott.
+
+"Doesn't he? And anything that sounds like Boston just naturally puts
+confidence in a Chicagoan, don't you know? Then when I landed at Conejo in
+that wild sand-storm with no one to meet me and the Morgans out of town,
+he offered to drive me over, and I let him. It didn't seem far; why, at
+home we often drive that far in an evening."
+
+"Well, driving around the boulevard with your friends is one thing, and
+around this sort of country with a strange Mexican is another." Scott
+paused at the sight of the girl's penitent face, and changed the subject.
+"As for your brother, we had a letter from him to-night saying that he and
+the bride had gone East. The directors sent for him, so they started
+pronto. I reckon Miss Emma's folks coaxed them to stay in Douglas a few
+days after the wedding--we had expected them here before this."
+
+"But how did you know----"
+
+Scott cleared his throat nervously. "Well, you see, he wrote me to read
+all his mail----" he stopped, abruptly. "Go on, Romeo!"
+
+"I see. You opened my letter and found out that I was coming, and came to
+meet me. I am very much obliged to you." The words were pleasant enough
+but the tone was cool.
+
+"She's on the trail," Scott thought, disconsolately. "She's running over
+in her mind what she said in that letter, and when she remembers, it's
+going to be a good idea to get home as soon as possible."
+
+After this, the silence was extremely marked. Scott, feeling the
+discomfort of it, continued:
+
+"It's too bad for you to have had this long trip and then miss your
+brother after all, but I guess he'll be back soon, the way things are
+looking."
+
+More silence, but Scott was not going to be scared out of his good
+intentions.
+
+"I reckon we can make you pretty comfortable till he comes. We've got a
+mighty pleasant lady running the boarding-house just now and she'll be
+glad enough to have another white woman on the place."
+
+The silence still continuing, he gave up. "Hang it, if she won't talk, she
+won't," he thought. Then as he turned to tuck in a flying end of robe he
+saw the girl's face. "Great guns, she's asleep--poor kid!"
+
+The end of a far from perfect day had come for Polly Street, and even an
+uncomfortable seat with a hard back and the joltings of a rough road had
+failed to keep her awake. She was asleep, sitting up, her head drooping,
+her body relaxed. In a few seconds she would be leaning comfortably on the
+broad shoulder next her. Without interrupting the team's even trot, Scott
+leaned down, fished another blanket from under the seat and arranged it on
+the back of the seat between them just in time to receive Polly's sleepy
+head, so that she rested half on the blanket, and half on his own steady
+bulk for the rest of the trip.
+
+"Poor youngster, she has had a day of it," the man said softly, as he
+arranged the blanket carefully around her. "And, by gum, I'll bet she
+hasn't had a mouthful to eat since noon! Well, women have endurance, I'll
+say they have. Built like Angora kittens and with the constitutions of
+beef critters. Go on, Romeo--I don't want her fainting with hunger on my
+hands, she's mad enough at me now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+POLLY ARRIVES
+
+
+It was midnight when the buckboard stopped in front of the company house
+where Mrs. Van Zandt and Henry Hard assisted the drowsy Polly out of the
+wagon, while Scott painstakingly performed the introductions.
+
+"Nothing to eat since noon!" gasped Mrs. Van Zandt, in horror. "What on
+earth was old lady Morgan thinking of? Mr. Hard, if you'll throw some more
+wood into the stove, I'll put on the percolator and run down to the
+dining-room for some sandwiches." She ran off in one direction, while
+Scott drove the team in another, leaving Hard to do the honors.
+
+"It's a shame to have things happen this way," he said. "A thousand times
+I've heard Bob talk about having you come down here, and now that you've
+come, he's flying in another direction."
+
+"It's my own fault," admitted Polly, honestly. "We are all so sudden in
+our family--make up our minds and hardly wait to write or telegraph. I
+might have known that Bob would be doing something just as queer as I was.
+How comfortably you have this place fixed! Am I turning you out of it?"
+
+"Oh, we're tramps, Scott and I. We thought it would be pleasanter for you
+to be here with Mrs. Van Zandt, so we moved ourselves out. We rather like
+changing about." He built up the fire and adjusted the percolator, while
+Polly divested herself of her hat and coat and sat down in a comfortable
+chair.
+
+"It won't be for long," she said, decidedly. "I shall go back as soon as I
+can now that Bob and Emma are home."
+
+"I hope you won't. Apart from the very great pleasure that it gives us all
+to see someone from home, it would be a pity to let you go back without
+seeing some of the country."
+
+Polly laughed in spite of her weariness.
+
+"It seems to me as though I'd seen the entire country of Mexico to-day,"
+she said. "Such a trip!"
+
+"Isn't it, though? The first time I made it I said: 'Here is where I
+locate for life and found a colony. I'll never have the courage to go
+home.' But I got over it."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt bustling in, followed by Scott, their hands full of
+provisions, found the two chatting sociably.
+
+"I'd have had cake for you," volunteered the former, "if Dolores and her
+beau hadn't ate it all on me."
+
+"It's like a midnight feast at boarding-school," chuckled the visitor,
+waked up by the coffee.
+
+"It's like the spreads we used to have when we was on the road," said Mrs.
+Van Zandt, meditatively.
+
+"On the road?" Polly's eyes opened wide.
+
+"Mrs. Van was one of the original 'Floradora Sextette,'" remarked Scott,
+soberly. "The only one who didn't marry a millionaire."
+
+"A lot you know about it," retorted the lady. "I was in the 'Prince of
+Pilsen,'" she informed Polly, confidentially. "I understudied the 'Widow'
+on the road. It was an interesting life," she concluded, thoughtfully.
+
+"It must have been," replied Polly, politely. "How did you happen to come
+West?"
+
+"Me? Oh, I came West with an invalid," replied Mrs. Van, easily. "She was
+one of the cranky kind--middle-aged and none of her family could live with
+her. You've seen that kind? They wanted she should have a trained nurse
+and the trained nurse never was born that she could get along with.
+Trained nurses are awful bossy--they can't help it, they're supposed to
+be; that's all the difference there is between them and the ones that
+ain't trained. So I come out to look after her."
+
+"Did she die?"
+
+"Not she. Get it out of your head that lungers always die--they don't. She
+got well and went home and nagged the life out of her family for years.
+Last I heard of her, she'd taken up with a young fellow she met at a
+skating rink and her folks were wild for fear she'd marry him."
+
+"Then you stayed out West?"
+
+"Yes, and sometimes I've regretted it. New York's the place to live. I had
+a swell flat in a good neighborhood and rented rooms to single gents and
+business women--they're the ones that have the money. It was interesting,
+too. I'd put an 'ad' in the Sunday paper and all day Monday folks would be
+coming to see my rooms; I met some real nice people that way. Well, I
+think you'd better be turning in; you'll feel this to-morrow."
+
+Scott and Hard rose and said good-night.
+
+"That's a plucky girl, Scott," said the latter, as they walked down the
+silent road together.
+
+"Do you know who brought her over from Conejo?" demanded Scott, with a
+chuckle.
+
+"I thought you said Mendoza did."
+
+"Mendoza's sick and she took a dislike to old Mrs. Morgan, so she came
+over with Juan Pachuca in his car."
+
+"You're joking."
+
+"I am not. I drove as far as Junipero Hill and when I got to the top of it
+I saw a big car at the foot, twisted about, almost in the ditch. I found
+Johnny on his stomach under the car and the girl holding an electric torch
+for him. She said she'd been underneath giving him a hand with it. I
+wouldn't put it past her."
+
+"But the child must be out of her head," protested Hard, weakly. "They
+don't do those things--even in these degenerate days."
+
+"I guess you and me are behind the times, Henry. And then, you know
+Pachuca's manners. Something between the King of Spain and Chauncey Depew.
+Any woman'd fall for them."
+
+"But----"
+
+"But nothing. Pachuca brought her over and he behaved himself while he was
+doing it as near as I can find out. What I want to know is what the smooth
+young devil wants around here?"
+
+"If there's a revolution in the air, Pachuca would throw in his lot with
+Obregon and De la Huerta. What he thinks about the First Chief is
+unprintable."
+
+"He had the cheek to tell me to close up the mine and get out of the
+country," grinned Scott.
+
+"That may mean something and it may not. They're keen about their bit of
+melodrama, these chaps. My El Paso paper says that there is a rumor again
+about troops having been ordered in from Chihuahua. That looks as though
+they were afraid of something."
+
+"Or else were trying to stir up something," replied the other. "Obregon's
+never going to stand for Carranza's candidate for the election. His own
+chances are too good. It might be a wise plan for the Government to stir
+up a little revolution on its own hook and get in the first hits."
+
+"Might be. Anything might be down here; that's why it's such an
+interesting place to live. Still, I don't altogether like the idea of
+Pachuca roaming the country like a lion escaped from a circus."
+
+"Those lions never do much harm," observed Scott, cheerfully. "Of course,
+if he hitches up with Villa----"
+
+"I seem to have heard that he and Villa had a row. I should say he was
+more likely to try to organize a crowd of his own and get in on the
+fireworks."
+
+"If he does it's good-bye to our fellows," said Scott. "It would be a case
+of the Pied Piper and the rats; and Johnny's a mighty good piper."
+
+Hard glanced at his companion in some amusement. Scott, who was a man of
+little education, had periodic spells of promiscuous reading, and
+frequently surprised his friend with his references.
+
+"It wouldn't be only our men, either," he said, a moment later.
+
+"I was thinking of that," replied Scott. "Old Herrick's would go, too. I
+wish you could persuade him to go back to England, Hard; that ranch of his
+is no place for an artist."
+
+Hard nodded. "I doubt if I could," he said. "Herrick's obstinate."
+
+They had reached the cabin where they were to sleep and were hailed
+drowsily but inquisitively by Adams.
+
+"Hullo, you guys! Did you find the lady?"
+
+"We did, and she asked warmly after you," replied Scott. Then, in a low
+tone to Hard: "No use saying anything about Pachuca to the boys."
+
+Hard nodded. "Better not," he agreed.
+
+"Did she? I think you lie," replied Adams, sleepily. "Don't be any noisier
+than you can help, you two, getting to bed. I've lost two hours of my
+beauty sleep now waitin' up for you and I need my rest."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I'm going over to my place to give the men their breakfast," said Mrs.
+Van Zandt, looking into Polly's bedroom the next morning. "Just you lay in
+bed until you're rested."
+
+"I'm rested now," said the girl, sitting up. "Is there--no, of course
+there isn't a bathtub on the place?" she laughed.
+
+"Bathtub? Well, I should say not, but your pitcher's full, I guess. You'll
+get used to being without bathtubs after a while. They ain't half as
+important as folks think."
+
+"I don't mind. I've camped," said Polly, heroically. "What I really wanted
+to ask you was how soon you thought I could get away?"
+
+"Get away? Why, ain't you just come?"
+
+"Yes, but I thought Bob was here. I never would have dumped myself down
+upon a lot of strangers like this."
+
+"If that's all that bothers you, turn over and get another nap. If the
+Superintendent's own sister ain't got a right to a few weeks' board and
+lodging, I don't know who has. As for the boys, don't worry about them.
+I'm an honest-to-goodness widow and I guess I can chaperon you all
+right."
+
+Polly laughed again. Mrs. Van Zandt's eye took in her appearance
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Do you sleep in those things all the time?" she said. "I mean, are they
+all you brought?"
+
+Polly glanced at her diaphanous pajamas and nodded cheerfully.
+
+"Well, I'll see that you have an extra blanket. Nights are cold here," and
+Mrs. Van hurried away. Polly called after her. "Well?" she said,
+reappearing in the doorway.
+
+"Is this Bob's room, Mrs. Van Zandt?" the girl asked.
+
+"No, it's Mr. Hard's, but you needn't worry about him. He'll be quite
+comfortable at the other house."
+
+"I was wondering----" Polly blushed. One hates to be curious, and yet--"I
+was wondering who that was?" pointing to a photograph on the dresser.
+
+"Her name's Conrad--she's a widow woman from Boston, an old friend of his.
+Pretty, ain't she?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"He never told me anything about her," admitted Mrs. Van, candidly. "Mr.
+Hard ain't one to chatter about his private affairs, but I got it out of
+Marc Scott."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"He said she was a singer; married an Englishman and lived down near
+Mexico City. Husband died two or three years ago. I've a notion she's an
+old sweetheart of Henry Hard's--you can tell from her clothes it's an old
+picture."
+
+"I like her looks," commented Polly.
+
+"So do I. Give me a wide-awake looking woman every time," agreed Mrs. Van
+Zandt. "There, I must hustle or Dolores will put red pepper in the eggs."
+
+Polly stared at the photograph. It was of a tall, slender woman, with
+large dark eyes, and obviously of a personality distinctly pleasing. She
+had, even in the photograph, an air of vitality which accounted for Mrs.
+Van's comment.
+
+"And he looks like the sort of man who would stay single for a woman," she
+said, pensively. Then her thoughts returned to her own position. Her eyes
+filled.
+
+"Oh, why did I come? Why did I?" she asked herself for the fiftieth time.
+"Because I was a coward and didn't want to hear what people were going to
+say about me. As though it mattered what the kind of people I know think
+of anybody! And now I've marooned myself in this dreadful place and I'll
+have to stay till Bob comes--we can't go chasing each other across the
+country like this. And that miserable Scott man knows why I came! Well, I
+can snub him, anyhow."
+
+Polly planted both feet firmly on the floor and reached for her stockings.
+A few minutes later she stood in the doorway, a dark sweater drawn over
+her lacy waist, her plaid skirt blowing in the breeze, and her vivid hair
+covered only with a net. The air was cool and bracing, the sun just
+beginning to be a bit warm, the mountains emerging from behind fleecy
+clouds, and the sky as blue as that of Italy.
+
+"Not bad, eh?" Hard stopped beside her, thinking how her splendid youth
+and vibrant coloring harmonized with the surroundings.
+
+"Not bad at all," laughed the girl. "You only need a few wild looking
+Mexicans prowling about to give a touch of life."
+
+Hard pointed toward the mine. Some dark-skinned men wearing big straw
+sombreros were running a hand car up the track while another group lounged
+in a doorway.
+
+"There are your Mexicans, but I'm afraid they're too lazy to be very wild.
+Nothing but a revolution excites them these days and sometimes I think
+they're getting a bit blasé over them. Now and then they wake up over a
+cock-fight." They walked down the street toward the boarding-house.
+
+"I wish, Mr. Hard, that you would tell me something about the young man
+who drove me over last night," the girl said.
+
+"Who? Scotty?"
+
+"No," a little indignantly. "I mean Señor Pachuca. Oh, I forgot that I
+hadn't told you!"
+
+"Scott told me. He and I thought, if you don't mind, that we wouldn't say
+anything about it before the others. I mean about his being in the
+neighborhood."
+
+"I won't if you don't want me to," replied Polly, with unusual docility.
+"But please tell me about him. Mr. Scott didn't seem to want to."
+
+"Well, no, Scotty didn't want to frighten you, I suppose."
+
+"Frighten me? As if I was that kind of girl!"
+
+"It's just a little difficult these days to know what one may or may not
+tell a young lady," smiled Hard. "But about Johnny Pachuca. A good many
+people call him 'Don Juan'--I don't know whether it's because he claims to
+be of pure Spanish blood, or whether it's a subtle recognition of his
+popularity with the ladies."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"A few years ago, he was a captain or a colonel or something equally fancy
+in the army. He's a dashing young scamp, and he had the good luck or the
+bad luck whatever you want to call it to engage the affections of a
+good-looking young actress who was supposed to be bestowing those
+affections on a man higher up. Naturally, the man higher up looked about
+for a way of getting even. He dug up a scandal about some army funds.
+Young Pachuca had been doing what seems to have been the usual thing down
+in Mexico City--padding his accounts--so they got him.
+
+"Not that they couldn't have got anybody on the staff on the same charge;
+but they were after Juan. Juan had to choose between retiring to private
+life or turning bandit. Having a taste for action, he did the latter."
+
+"Do you mean like Villa?"
+
+"Well, no, Villa's in a class by himself. You can't call a man who has
+controlled a state and who has dictated to presidents, a bandit, can you?
+He's on too big a scale. Pachuca took up banditry, in a gentlemanly sort
+of way; at least they say he did; nobody's proved it on him. He was
+undoubtedly with Villa at one time. He was with him when he stopped here
+and nabbed our horses. I was away at the time. I've never seen the fellow.
+Then, gossip says, they quarreled and Pachuca went back to his people in
+the South. I haven't a doubt, however, that if another revolution should
+break out, Johnny would climb into the band-wagon against the government
+and land in the army again."
+
+"And that's the man I undertook to drive alone in the dark with!" gasped
+the girl. "Mr. Hard, promise me you'll never tell Bob?"
+
+"I promise," replied Hard, laughing. "And here we are at breakfast. Miss
+Street, this is Mr. Williams, who runs our store, Mr. Adams, of the office
+force----" and so on until each had very consciously greeted the newcomer.
+Scott, who sat at the end of the table, looked up and bowed, receiving a
+cool little response. He returned unconcerned to his ham and eggs. If the
+new arrival was going to be disagreeable, he would keep out of her way.
+
+Breakfast went off pleasantly. The food was excellent and with the
+exception of Scott, who kept his distance, everyone was quite evidently
+trying to put the girl at her ease. From the train crew, who announced
+their intention of running over to Conejo for her trunk, to Adams who
+spoke for the privilege of taking her over the plant, and Williams, who
+begged for an early opportunity to show his collection of baskets and
+pottery, each had something to offer. Even the black-eyed Dolores peeped
+admiringly through the hole in the wall, gathering items about the visitor
+to retail to the eager ears of relatives and friends at the next _baile_.
+
+After breakfast, Adams piloted Polly over the premises, from the corral to
+the office. He showed her the automobile lying idle because an important
+part was broken and the new one though ordered from the factory had not
+come.
+
+"I hope you ride?" he said, and as she nodded: "that's good. Maybe we can
+get up a party to ride across the mesa to Casa Grande. That's Herrick's
+place."
+
+"Herrick?"
+
+"Yes. Queer chap--part German and part English. Artistic, you know--plays
+the piano and sings."
+
+"What's he doing here if he's an artist?" demanded Polly.
+
+"Runs a ranch and writes music. His wife died suddenly--she used to travel
+around with him and sing his songs--they made a pile of money, I guess."
+
+"You don't mean Victor Herrick!" gasped the girl.
+
+"Yes, that's him. He went to pieces when she died and packed up his piano
+and his music and came down here and buried himself on the ranch. Queer
+customer, but you'll like him."
+
+"And to think that Bob Street never wrote me that Victor Herrick was a
+neighbor of his--and then wrote pages of stuff about those old Morgans!"
+said Polly, indignantly. "Why, I've heard the Herricks sing--they were
+wonderful! Men haven't any sense."
+
+"Oh, well, he likes the Morgans. She's a jolly kind of woman, invites a
+fellow to dinner and feeds him up, you know," said Jimmy, seriously.
+"They're real folks, the Morgans are, and Herrick's a sort of a nut, don't
+you see?" He threw open the door of the office abruptly. "Here's the
+office, where the manager sits with his feet on the desk while the rest of
+us work."
+
+Scott, who was standing by the window, turned suddenly.
+
+"Hullo, Jimmy," he said, with a grin. "Do you know whether Johnson's gone
+yet? Well, go over and tell him to drop in at Mrs. Morgan's and tell her
+that the young lady got here safely; I can't get Conejo on the wire."
+
+"Oh, yes, Mr. Adams, please do!" said the girl, eagerly. "She meant to be
+awfully kind but she was worried to death about those children. I was too
+tired to have any patience and I felt as if I just had to get away from
+Conejo."
+
+"You're not the first person who's been struck that way," grinned Adams,
+as he left the office.
+
+"Hard tells me he has been talking to you about Juan Pachuca," said Scott,
+smiling.
+
+"Well, you wouldn't, so I had to ask somebody else," replied Polly. "I'm
+interested in him."
+
+"So I noticed. Can't you pick out something a little more like home-folks
+to be interested in? Remember the fellow who tried to bring up the tiger
+cub?"
+
+"What happened to him?" Polly smiled up into Scott's face. There was
+something about Scotty that appealed to you even when you were actively
+engaged in disliking him.
+
+"It grew up and bit him."
+
+"Oh, and Juan Pachuca seemed so nice and friendly. But I suppose a tiger
+cub feels soft and furry when it isn't scratching or biting."
+
+"Exactly. You can't tell about these fellows down here. Maybe Pachuca
+would have brought you over here safe and sound, and maybe he would have
+taken the south fork of the road down yonder and carried you off to his
+ranch to hold for a ransom."
+
+"Oh," said Polly, faintly, "what a dreadful country!"
+
+"Well, it's no place for tenderfeet. That's what I'm always telling our
+neighbor--Herrick, over at Casa Grande. Bob ever write you about him?"
+
+"Bob never writes me about anything--except Emma," said the girl. "But Mr.
+Adams has been telling me about him. Does he live there all alone?"
+
+"No, he's got a Chinese boy to cook for him and a lot of greasers working
+on the place, but no white men around."
+
+"I wish I could meet him."
+
+"You can. I'll drive you over there any time you say."
+
+Polly's face hardened. "I won't bother you," she said. "I don't know how
+long I'll stay here. I want to telegraph Bob."
+
+"I told Johnson to wire him from Conejo," said Scott, a bit coolly on his
+side. "He may bring the return message back with him to-night."
+
+Polly felt suddenly ashamed of herself. She rose and held out her hand.
+
+"That was awfully thoughtful of you, Mr. Scott," she said. "I'm ever and
+ever so much obliged to you, both for that and for last night. I suppose
+if it hadn't been for you Señor Pachuca might have been sending pieces of
+my fingers to Bob for a ransom."
+
+Scott laughed but he took the hand awkwardly.
+
+"I don't think Pachuca would do anything quite as raw as that--especially
+with a lady," he said. "But I'm glad I went just the same. I don't take
+chances with these chaps. Shall we walk down to dinner? Mrs. Van gets
+pretty peeved if we're late to meals."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+LOCAL ACTIVITIES
+
+
+Johnson did not bring a return message from Chicago.
+
+"Family ain't got its breath yet, I reckon," he said, as he and Scott
+discussed the matter. "She looks to me like the sort of youngster who
+could keep a family pretty well stirred up," he added, candidly. "Girls
+have changed sence you and me was young, Scotty."
+
+"You've said it," was the terse reply.
+
+"If you can believe what these magazine fellers write," went on the
+engineer, pensively, "the girl of to-day is a sort of mixture of bronc,
+ostrich, and rattlesnake thrown in. Smokes, drinks--say, Scotty, I wonder
+do they chew?"
+
+"Search me," responded Scott. "I don't go into society much these days. I
+reckon, though, you've got to take these writing chaps with a grain of
+salt. There's probably a few plain, ordinary girls left."
+
+"There's plenty of plain ones, if the newspapers ain't lyin'," said
+Johnson, opening his home paper at the society page and revealing three
+emaciated damsels, clad in extremely short skirts, and with huge bird
+cages over their ears. "Not that Miss Polly's like them," he added,
+generously. "She's a looker and a lady, too. I like her."
+
+"That's lucky, Tom," remarked Scott. "I'll tell her she can stay on."
+
+Polly did stay on. The next day a telegram came from the happy
+bridegroom.
+
+"For Heaven's sake stay where you are. Stop racing around the country.
+Returning shortly. Bob."
+
+In the meantime, the days passed like hours. Polly rode with Scott, walked
+with Adams, chatted with Hard, and helped Mrs. Van Zandt with the
+housework when the latter would let her, which wasn't often. Now and then
+she remembered Joyce Henderson, and when she did, her manner would cool
+toward Scott; but one couldn't go on holding a grudge long in that
+climate. The glorious sun, coming after months of dark chilly weather,
+seemed to melt anything in one's heart that was unfriendly. Joyce
+Henderson soon faded into half-tones.
+
+There were a dozen interesting things to do everyday. A Mexican saddle
+with its high pommel and cantle, was fascinating after an English one.
+Foothills and arroyos were a charming part of one's walk after the
+boulevards and parks of Chicago. She hugely enjoyed chatting in sign
+language with the Mexicans and Indians on the place, and before a week had
+passed she had picked up a number of Spanish phrases which she used with
+delighted inaccuracy.
+
+She believed that of the men she liked Hard the best. He was the type of
+man she had always admired; the best type of an American gentleman, a man
+of good old family traditions, quiet and unassuming and yet full of a
+pleasant humor. She wondered what had brought him to Mexico--an unhappy
+love affair with the lady who sang? But Hard was not a man of whom one
+asked personal questions so she did not find out.
+
+Scott, however, was the man who really interested Polly Street though she
+did not realize it. Much of that interest was due to the fact that he
+apparently did not care whether he interested her or not. One moment they
+would be on excellent terms, and the next he would have forgotten her.
+
+"That young man," said Polly, sagely, "understands the art of making
+himself popular. He knows it irritates a woman to see a man absolutely
+indifferent to her. It's more than flesh and blood can stand. So he acts
+that way, for it's a pose, of course. Just for that I'm going to make him
+like me--if I can spare the time."
+
+In this she wronged Marc Scott, who was quite innocent of the art of
+posing, and whose mind was on other things these days than young women.
+
+One day, about a fortnight after Polly's arrival, she and Scott rode over
+to a little village hidden in the mountains some ten miles away. It was a
+warm day and they were long on the road. It was nearing sundown when they
+came within sight of Athens. Polly, as usual, was talking:
+
+"They're such queer people--Mexicans. They can't run their own country and
+they don't want anybody else to come in and run it for them."
+
+"I wouldn't call that queer," replied Scott. "Chances are that if they let
+someone else in, there wouldn't be enough country left for them to put in
+their eye, and they darn well know it."
+
+"Not necessarily," replied the girl, sturdily. "We didn't gobble up Cuba.
+We just helped them to get on their feet."
+
+"Cuba's a different proposition. Cuba was being coerced by an European
+power and, of course, we had to stop it. Mexico is in the hands of her own
+people and if you give them time they may make something of her. Then,
+there's the oil question. That's sort of soured the native population on
+us. You'd never persuade a live Mexican that the U. S. came over here for
+anything in the world but to grab the oil lands--whether the U. S. was
+innocent or not."
+
+"I suppose not, and a good many of us wouldn't be innocent, would we?"
+
+"Afraid not. You see, the oil business has developed to an importance far
+beyond everything else down here. When this man, Carranza, went into
+office, he went in under what they call the Constitution of 1917. It
+provides that the State is entitled to retain what they call 'subsoil
+rights.' That is, they don't want to sell oil lands or mines outright,
+they just lease them.
+
+"Now, if they should decide, and a lot of them want to, that that
+Constitution is retroactive--and undermines the titles of land that's
+already owned by foreign capital, there'd be a lot of influence brought to
+bear to make trouble."
+
+"That would affect our mine, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Yes, but mines are pretty small potatoes compared to oil. People down
+here will tell you that the Constitution is merely a matter of form and
+that if the oil men will go on paying their taxes nothing will happen;
+but, of course, that sort of assurance doesn't go far when a man's putting
+up his money. If they get a new government down here, and we get a new one
+at home, the chances are that the United States will demand guarantees of
+some kind. It's a bad question, take it any way you like.
+
+"The Mexican says: 'These oil lands are mine.' And they are. The American
+says: 'What good were they to anybody when you had them?' None whatever,
+and the world needs oil, so there you are."
+
+They rode on for a few minutes in silence. Scott watched, with the mixed
+pleasure of the horseman and the admiring male, the girl's graceful figure
+adapt itself to the jog of the horse. He reflected that there was
+something very clean-cut and alive about her, from the way her hair sprang
+in its tight little waves away from her firm white neck, to the quick
+flash of her dark eyes; there was a vividness and a health about her which
+appealed strongly to the out-of-doors man.
+
+Nothing could have been further from his idea of a rich man's daughter; a
+pampered being, all nerves and affectations, helpless and parasitic. Of
+course she was spoiled--used to being waited upon a good deal, and with
+rather a good opinion of herself. One could see that. On the other hand,
+it did not seem to go very deep; seemed, rather, the sort of thing that
+might rub off when it came in contact with life. Even the rich sometimes
+came into contact with life, he reflected, with a feeling of satisfaction.
+They dodged a good many rough knocks that the poor couldn't dodge, but
+something usually came along to even up the score, if nothing else--the
+old boy with the scythe.
+
+"Mr. Scott, when are you going to take me over to see Casa Grande?" said
+the object of his meditations, suddenly.
+
+"Me?" Scott turned on her in well simulated surprise. "Thought you didn't
+want to go last time we talked about it."
+
+"Well," Polly blushed, "I've changed my mind. I want to meet the
+celebrity."
+
+"Who? Victor Herrick? I don't think you'll care much for him if you go
+over there looking for a celebrity. He's not that kind."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"He's not the kind that likes to go to pink teas and have a lot of women
+hanging around him," explained Scott, promptly. "Not a society woman's
+pet. Too good a musician, I guess."
+
+"You don't like society people very much, do you?"
+
+"Not much," candidly. "And I guess they wouldn't care much for me, so that
+squares it."
+
+"I suppose the sort of people you mean by 'society' wouldn't care for
+you," said the girl, frankly. "But there are people, you know, even among
+the rich who have sense enough to know a worth-while man when they meet
+him."
+
+It was Scott's turn to show confusion. "I don't mean that there aren't any
+decent rich folks. I'm not such a blamed idiot as that," he said. "You,
+yourself, have a lot more sense than an heiress has any right to," he
+added, with a smile.
+
+"Me? I'm not an heiress. Father has a big salary, of course, but we spend
+every cent of it. We don't mean to but we always do. Somehow, our expenses
+crawl up every time the salary crawls. Of course, there's insurance, but
+that would go to Mother. You see, they've educated both Bob and me well
+enough so that we can support ourselves; I could be athletic instructor in
+a girls' college to-morrow if I wanted to; and Father's invested a good
+deal in this mine on Bob's account. He thinks he's done his duty by us and
+I do, too."
+
+"So do I," said Scott, soberly. "I don't believe in these handed-down
+fortunes--money tied up for generations."
+
+"I think," said Polly, shyly, "that you're a bit of a socialist."
+
+"So do I--only I've never found exactly the brand of socialism that I
+believe in. Maybe they haven't discovered it yet. But I do believe that
+we've got to do better by each other than we're doing now if we're ever
+going to make a success of living. Whether it's got to come by individual
+reform or by some new system of government, I don't know, but things have
+got to improve, and, by gum, I believe they will! We're too good, all of
+us, to be wasted the way most of us are."
+
+He spoke with a fire that Polly had never seen in him before. She had
+thought him phlegmatic, but here was something temperamental--something
+that kindled enthusiasm in her. She was too hampered by her own
+inexperience of life to know what to say to him; she felt helpless in the
+presence of feelings that she had never had and could not feel sure that
+she understood; and she feared to say the wrong thing--she, Polly Street,
+who had always said what she liked to men and let them take it as they
+chose! It was a queer feeling and she wondered----
+
+"Hold on, what's that?" Scott stopped his horse suddenly.
+
+"What's what?" demanded the girl, startled. Then as he did not answer, but
+continued to stare in the direction of Athens, she cried impatiently:
+"What are you looking at? Tell me now--this minute!"
+
+Scott took a pair of field-glasses from a case on his saddle. He handed
+them to the girl.
+
+"Does that look to you like Juan Pachuca's car down by the store?"
+
+Polly looked. "It does, doesn't it?" she said. "But it's too far to be
+sure. Who do you suppose those men are on horseback?"
+
+"I don't know," said Scott, shortly, as he took the glasses and looked
+again. "But I don't like the looks of it. Let's whip up and get to that
+arroyo that runs back of the camp. We'll ride the rest of the way in it."
+
+They descended into the arroyo which was a deep one with sheltering sides
+that rose above them fully ten feet.
+
+"It doesn't go all the way," objected the girl, who was beginning to know
+the geography of the place already.
+
+"I don't want it to," replied Scott. "It turns off and runs at an
+angle--just above the dining-room. I'm going to leave you and the horses
+there out of sight."
+
+"Leave us!"
+
+"You didn't think I was going to turn tail and run when the boys were
+being held up, did you?"
+
+Polly's eyes shone with a mixture of fear and excitement.
+
+"Do you mean it's a real hold-up?" she gasped.
+
+"Haven't the least idea, but it sure does look like one, especially if
+that's Pachuca, himself, on that sorrel. Then, again, it may be the
+Federal Government quartering men on us. In either case ladies and
+horse-flesh are better out of the way."
+
+"But I'm not afraid," cried the girl, her teeth chattering with
+excitement. "At least, I don't think I am--much. Anyhow, I'll be lots more
+scared down here in this hole alone."
+
+"You won't be alone; you've got two good horses to take care of. Thank the
+Lord, Hard is out of it--that's three horses we can save."
+
+Hard had ridden to Conejo the day before and had not returned.
+
+"I'm going to leave you this." Scott took his revolver from the holster
+and handed it to the girl, who took it reluctantly.
+
+"I'm more afraid of it than I am of Juan Pachuca," she pleaded.
+
+"You've no call to be," was the reply. "Don't be a baby--brace up and stay
+here with these horses. They're not looking for you and they'll never come
+down here. These are the two best horses we've got and I'm cussed if I'm
+going to hand 'em over to a bunch of greasers."
+
+"Oh!" Polly gasped again. No one had ever spoken to her quite like this
+before. "You can't go unarmed, can you?"
+
+"Never mind me. You stay here till I come for you. If anybody bothers you,
+you shoot. Understand?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+Scott proceeded to climb cautiously out of the arroyo and in a moment was
+out of Polly's sight. He looked back once and saw the girl standing where
+he had left her, holding the reins of the two horses, her eyes big with
+excitement, watching his every movement. He waved his hand, then turned
+his back upon her.
+
+"That's a good youngster," he said to himself. "Plenty of spunk but knows
+when to mind. I'm afraid that if I was ten years younger I might make a
+fool of myself--for she'd never look at me."
+
+The spot at which he had left the sheltering arroyo was two or three
+hundred feet from the cabin in which he was living with Hard and Adams.
+His idea was to steal into the house from the rear, arm himself, and then
+see what he could do, though, of course, he realized that their small
+force could do little against Pachuca, who not only had some twenty-five
+or thirty men of his own, but who could easily count on the Mexicans who
+worked on the place.
+
+As he walked quickly in the direction of the house, he noticed Pachuca,
+for he it was on the sorrel horse, giving orders loudly in Spanish to his
+men who were scattered around the place--many of them down at the corral.
+He did not see any of his own people, which puzzled him a little. As he
+entered his cabin and crossed the living-room to go to the bedroom, where
+he kept an extra gun, he nearly stumbled over the body of a man.
+
+It was Adams, lying in the middle of the room, dead--or had the boy only
+fainted? Scott rummaged in the cupboard for the whiskey bottle and poured
+a bit of the liquor down his throat. Jimmy opened his eyes and stared
+dizzily around. Scott saw that the floor around him was covered with
+blood.
+
+"What is it, boy? Those hounds shoot you?" he demanded. Adams grinned
+shakily.
+
+"You've hit it, brainy one," he muttered. "Help me into a chair, Scotty, I
+ain't dead, only winged in the left hin' leg."
+
+Scott lifted him gently and placed him in the chair, then went into his
+room and secured the gun. He brought a towel back with him and staunched
+the flow of blood from the leg with a clumsily fashioned bandage.
+
+"He busted in on us while we were taking our afternoon naps," said Jimmy,
+weakly. "I happened to be taking mine in the office as per usual. I saw
+Pachuca riding up so I grabbed my gun and beat it for the door. They had
+me covered, about ten of them before I could show my face. They asked for
+the cash box and when I said we hadn't one, one of 'em blazed away and hit
+me in the leg. When I toppled over they made a rush for the office--most
+of 'em over me."
+
+"The safe?"
+
+"I thought of that and it occurred to me that I'd better clear out before
+it struck them that I might know the combination. So while they were
+enjoying themselves inside, I crawled down here. I hadn't gone half-way
+before I heard 'em blow it up. Oh, yes, they got the pay chest all right,
+all right."
+
+"Well, what then?" grunted Scott.
+
+"Part of the crowd had gone down to the corral and the rest were down at
+the store. Just as I crawled in here, I saw Williams come out of the store
+and get it in the gun arm--the train gang were caught without their guns,
+and they've got 'em all lined up outside the store. They've looted the
+store and the corral and they've got all our greasers stirred up to join
+'em. Say, there's no use your mixing in--you can't do anything."
+
+"I can spoil Don Juan's pretty looks, I guess!" snarled Scott. "That'll be
+something."
+
+"Hold on--give me some more of that whiskey before you go. Thanks. Now go
+and get your fool head shot off if you want to."
+
+With a growl of rage, Scott flung out of the house. He strode in the
+direction of the store where the prisoners still stood helplessly. They
+had seen firearms, dry-goods, canned food, and Williams' cash box carried
+out and deposited in the automobile which stood at the side of the store.
+Now they awaited the next move. Pachuca was evidently gathering his forces
+for departure. The Athens Mexicans had collected their families, their
+household goods, and whatever else they could lay their hands on and were
+ready to follow.
+
+These preparations for a general exodus were the first things to strike
+Scott as he came out of the cabin. It was exasperating, but what could you
+expect? There was no knowing what rosy tale Pachuca had told them; more
+than likely that the American army had crossed the border and that they
+were striking for their altars and their fires. He saw women, babies, and
+household goods loaded upon his good horse-flesh and disappearing down the
+road.
+
+Scott's blood boiled. His impulse was to shoot Juan Pachuca without
+warning. He raised his arm and then he paused. One does not shoot men in
+the back easily unless one is used to doing it. At that moment a Mexican
+saw him and yelled. Instantly everyone saw him. Pachuca whirled his horse
+about. It reared and plunged. Its rider laughed loudly.
+
+"Ah, there you are, friend Scott!" he called. "I told you----" He brought
+his gun from his hip with a sudden twist. The two men fired
+simultaneously. Scott thought--hoped--that he saw Pachuca waver, but the
+air was full of smoke and he was dazed. He fired again.
+
+Pachuca's horse began to pitch violently; it took all its rider's famous
+horsemanship to keep in the saddle. At the same moment, two men stole up
+behind Scott, who was rushing forward, seized him, threw him to the
+ground, and disarmed him. One of them took his rope and bound the
+American, while both of them grinned and muttered in Spanish.
+
+By this time, Pachuca had defeated the evident intentions of the sorrel to
+buck himself through the store window, and uttering a cry dashed off in
+the direction of the automobile.
+
+"Adios, Señor Scott!" he cried, as he went. "Next time you will take a
+neighbor's good word, eh?"
+
+"Next time I'll take a soft-nosed bullet and get you back of the ear, you
+rotten little half-breed!" yelled Scott, maddened with helplessness and
+rage, rolling in the dust.
+
+"Marc Scott, ain't you got any sense? Keep your mouth shut!" screamed Mrs.
+Van Zandt in terror as they gathered around the prostrate man and untied
+him while the last of the raiders rode off.
+
+"Did they get everything?" he demanded as he got to his feet.
+
+"All except honor and they didn't leave enough of that to stick in your
+eye," responded Mrs. Van, bitterly. "They got Adams in the leg and
+Williams in the arm and took off the whole greaser population. Here, wipe
+your face off with this handkerchief before you rub all that sand in your
+eyes."
+
+Scott obeyed meekly.
+
+"Where's the girl?" demanded Williams.
+
+"Down the arroyo with the horses," replied Scott. "We saw the outfit in
+time or Pachuca'd have had her, too."
+
+"He asked me where she was and I told him she'd gone home," said Mrs. Van.
+"I was awful scared Dolores would give me away but I reckon she didn't
+hear."
+
+They stared malevolently at the vanishing auto. Pachuca had turned the
+sorrel over to another man and was driving the car himself. Suddenly, they
+saw him stop and give an order. Several of the men dismounted and were
+laying something along the track. Then with a yell, they all bolted, the
+auto in the lead, the horsemen following. A few seconds and they had
+disappeared around a curve in the road.
+
+"Now, what the ----" began Williams, when he was answered--there was a
+crash, the sight of rocks and sand flying, and a thunderous
+reverberation.
+
+"The mutts have blown up the track!" burst from the engineer, furiously.
+
+"They would," replied Scott, sourly. "Want to cut us off from Conejo till
+they've made their getaway! Probably cut the wires, too. Go and see,
+Miller. If they haven't, get Morgan and tell him Pachuca's on the rampage.
+Did he say what was up? What he was doing this for?" he asked.
+
+"Not him," said O'Grady, disgustedly. "Bring out your dead--that's Johnny
+Pachuca--no flourishes about him."
+
+"You come in here with me and look at Joe Williams' arm," commanded Mrs.
+Van. "It don't look to me as if it was broke, do you think so?"
+
+"I'll see to Adams," said Scott. "Johnson, you go down to the arroyo and
+get the girl." And he went down the street to the cabin.
+
+"Well, did he get everything?" demanded Adams, as Scott entered.
+
+"All he could carry. He left the victrola for you, Jimmy, and the stove
+for Mrs. Van."
+
+"Gosh! What did you do with Miss Polly?"
+
+"Left her with the horses in the arroyo."
+
+"That was smart of you, Scotty. I'll bet she wanted to come?"
+
+"I'll bet she did, but she didn't get to come. Let's have another look at
+the leg, Jimmy."
+
+They bathed it as well as they could. It had stopped bleeding and they
+bandaged it carefully with another towel.
+
+"I don't believe the bone's broke, Jimmy, but I don't like the looks of
+it," said the amateur surgeon. "You need a doctor."
+
+"There ain't any except that greaser over at Conejo," said Adams,
+gloomily. "Morgan says he's so dirty he won't let him touch his kids. I
+don't want blood poisoning, you bet. Did they blow up the track?"
+
+Scott nodded. "There's Johnson," he exclaimed, looking out of the window.
+"He's got the horses but not the girl. Hey, there, Tom, where's Miss
+Polly?" he cried as the engineer dismounted and came into the house.
+
+"She wasn't there, Scotty. I found the horses tied to a branch of a tree
+that grew out of the side of the arroyo but there wasn't no sign of the
+girl anywhere."
+
+Scott's face darkened. "She was scared and went further up," he said. "Did
+you look?"
+
+"Looked and hollered and then some, but she was clean gone."
+
+Scott muttered something, flung out of the house and threw himself on his
+horse. In a moment he was tearing up the road.
+
+"Where's that ugly devil going?" said Johnson, disgustedly. "Didn't I tell
+him she'd gone? Is he going to try to chase Johnny Pachuca into the
+mountains after her?"
+
+"Gone clean nuts!" remarked Adams, gloomily.
+
+"I knew that when I seen him rolling in the dirt and yelling
+'half-breed,'" replied Johnson. "You might as well poison a Mexican as to
+call him 'half-breed.' According to them they're all second cousins to the
+King of Spain. Does your leg hurt much, Jimmy?"
+
+"Well, I've had legs that felt better," said Adams, cheerfully. "Where you
+going, Tom?" as the long, lank engineer swung out of the room.
+
+"To see the boss get his throat cut," was the reply. "Pachuca's got the
+money, the guns and the girl; it don't seem very good sense to hand him
+the whole office force but if the boss says so, here goes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MISS CHICAGO
+
+
+Polly stood where Scott left her, gazing after him with a mixture of
+horror and excitement; horror at the thought that one of the terrible
+raids of which she had so often heard was taking place scarce two hundred
+yards from where she stood, and excitement because she was there--she,
+Polly Street, who had so far in her life never met with any adventure more
+thrilling than a punctured tire or a lost golf match.
+
+Then, suddenly, it dawned upon her that Scott had left her his only
+weapon; had gone empty-handed into the trouble! The thought carried a
+double meaning. He had told her that she was safe, but he had left her his
+gun. Then there was danger--the Mexicans might come and find her;
+secondly, he had gone unarmed for her sake. He, the indifferent, the
+uncaring, the man who didn't mind whether she smiled on him or snubbed
+him! Was it only because she was a girl and he a man, or did he, after
+all, care a little bit?
+
+She had threatened, boastingly, to make him care, but she realized that
+she was beginning to care a little herself; that she could not stay
+quietly in the arroyo without knowing what was happening to him; that she
+must see and hear no matter what the risk.
+
+She looked about her in some perplexity. She had been told that a western
+horse would stand contentedly if his reins were thrown over his head; but
+she doubted the universal truth of this statement.
+
+"They might if there was grass for them to nibble," she decided. "But they
+never would in this hole. Come on, ponies, let's see what we can do." And
+gathering up the reins she led the horses in the direction Scott had gone.
+She saw the place where he had scrambled out of the arroyo, and, oh, good
+luck, a clump of mesquite growing out of the crumbling wall further down.
+She fastened the bridle reins to the mesquite and left the horses
+contentedly chewing at it.
+
+Very cautiously she crept up the incline and took a peek at the situation.
+She was just in time to see Scott disappear into the cabin where Adams lay
+wounded. Polly's face fell. That didn't look very heroic--crawling in by
+the back door! No wonder he didn't want her to see him. Then she took
+another look. She saw the crowd down by the corral, catching and saddling
+unwilling horses. Women were hurrying in and out of cabins, dragging
+household goods and children with them.
+
+The little crowd before the store she could not see as the building itself
+prevented, but she saw Pachuca with several of his men riding up and down,
+and she also saw several unmounted Mexicans who had been looting the
+store, carry the goods out and throw them in the car which stood at the
+side of the building. Instinctively the girl reconstructed the action of
+the bandits.
+
+"A lot of them came on horseback and the rest in the car. They're going to
+carry what they've taken in the car and they're taking the horses for the
+extra men. Our Mexicans and their women are going with them and are
+helping themselves to whatever they want. But where are our men? I didn't
+think they'd sit down and be plundered without putting up some kind of a
+fight."
+
+She saw the crowd which had been looting the store start for the corral.
+The car stood alone. Without doubt they had stopped it a little way from
+the street and made a dash on horseback. Polly's eyes shone.
+
+She glanced at the sun; it was going down rapidly. It would soon be dusk.
+She crept cautiously out of the arroyo. If only none of the men on
+horseback saw her she might manage it, wild as her plan was. She shook
+with fear but she did not falter; a girl does not have an obstinate chin
+for nothing. She glanced both ways; Pachuca was still riding up and down,
+issuing orders which were obeyed noisily but cheerfully. She saw him point
+toward the corral and saw the men who had been loading the car with
+plunder start toward the corral on a run.
+
+"Going after more horses," thought the girl, stopping and crouching back
+of one of the cabins. If they should see her--she held her breath. The
+next moment she was running for the car, still sheltered by the cabins. It
+was this moment that Scott chose to walk down the street and draw the
+attention of the raiders. Polly saw him and her heart warmed.
+
+"I knew he wasn't a coward!" she almost sobbed. "Oh, I'm glad--but he
+needn't be such an idiot as that. He'll be shot as sure as I'm here."
+
+Panic stricken, she increased her pace and in a minute had reached the
+shelter of the car. Then the shots burst upon her ears. She turned white
+and clung to the door of the car. If they had killed him! She saw Scott's
+face as he had left her--friendly, ugly, determined--and she knew that if
+they had killed him nothing else would matter--anything might happen and
+she would not care. Mechanically, she opened the door of the car and
+hastily moved some of the plunder from the floor to the seat. The Mexicans
+had tossed in canned goods, blankets, rifles, a couple of cash boxes and
+even a box of victrola records. Then she crawled into the space she had
+made and seizing one of the blankets, drew it over herself and over a part
+of the loot, giving the tonneau of the car the appearance of being full of
+plunder which was protected from the dust by a blanket.
+
+There was a clatter of hoofs and Polly heard Scott's parting yell. It
+brought a glorious relief to her mind for surely no one who was badly hurt
+could be as mad as that! She heard the answering yells of the Mexicans,
+then she felt and heard the door of the car flung open; someone had jumped
+in and was starting the engine. Something struck her--a man had thrown his
+bundle into the car that he might take a howling youngster on his saddle.
+Polly's teeth chattered with fear; she was realizing with every throb of
+the engine the awful risk she was taking.
+
+Suddenly the car moved. Polly cowered in her uncomfortable position. Cold
+with terror she clutched the revolver Scott had given her. Suppose at the
+last minute some of the other men should decide to get into the car?
+
+"But I won't suppose! There wouldn't have been any time to suppose if I'd
+gone to war to drive an ambulance. The boys didn't suppose when they went
+over the top--they just went! I hope to goodness none of these guns I'm
+sitting on are loaded."
+
+The car bumped along on the rutty road and the noise of the riders died
+away.
+
+"I knew it," the girl said triumphantly. "I knew the horseback people
+would take to the trail as soon as they could, and the automobile can't,
+of course. I've scored one point----"
+
+The car stopped. Polly's breathing apparatus stopped simultaneously. What
+was it? Had he seen her? Or was he about to pull the loot to pieces and
+discover her? She listened with her whole body, but heard nothing from the
+driver. Instead, came the detonation of the dynamited tracks. The ground
+beneath the car trembled. Then she heard the man laugh as he started the
+car again.
+
+"They've blown up something! That sounds like Don Juan's voice, too. If I
+could only see!"
+
+The car soon moved at its former speed. On and on it went. Sometimes the
+road would be smooth, the driver having found wagon ruts and stayed in
+them. Again, it would be full of bumps and jars. It was very
+uncomfortable, her position being wretchedly cramped. Once she was
+startled to hear the driver break into song. It sounded like a Spanish
+love song and his voice was a lyric tenor and very musical. It was
+Pachuca! She determined to know what was going on.
+
+Pushing aside a corner of the blanket she saw that it was beginning to
+grow dusky. Cautiously she raised herself until she could see. Pachuca was
+bent over the wheel. Looking back she saw the road empty of riders.
+
+She looked ahead again. They were in the foothills already. Polly drew a
+long breath, then leaning over the back of the seat said desperately:
+
+"Señor Pachuca, would you mind turning round a moment?"
+
+If she had exploded the revolver in his ear, Pachuca could not have given
+a greater start.
+
+"_Madre di Dios!_" he gasped, as the machine swerved.
+
+"Please, do mind the wheel--that was an awful curve!"
+
+"Where did you come from?" demanded the young man.
+
+"I have been hidden among the stolen goods," replied Polly. "I've heard a
+lot about you lately, señor, but I honestly didn't believe you were a
+thief until I saw with my own eyes."
+
+Pachuca stopped the machine and turning glared at the girl, also at the
+weapon which she pointed with a very unsteady hand in his direction.
+
+"If you'll put that thing down I'll try to explain to you the difference
+between stealing and requisitioning property in war times," he said,
+angrily.
+
+"If you'll turn the car around you can explain all the way back to
+Athens," said Polly, sharply. "I'm awfully tired and stiff and my hand is
+shaky--the man who gave me this gun told me it was ready to go off. I
+don't want it to go off but if it does I can't help it. Will you please
+turn around?"
+
+"No, I won't. The road is too narrow."
+
+"I've turned a Red Cross ambulance around in a lane no wider than this out
+near Fort Sheridan and I didn't spill anybody either. You're a better
+driver than I am."
+
+Pachuca shrugged his shoulders but he turned the car. There was an ugly
+look in his eyes and Polly clutched her weapon tightly. She tried to keep
+her voice steady but it quavered desperately.
+
+"If you try to do anything mean--upset the car or anything like that, I'm
+going to fire--I certainly will--as sure as I'm red-headed."
+
+The car sped on. Suddenly Pachuca's shoulders began to shake. He turned a
+laughing face toward Polly.
+
+"You are so pretty and so disagreeable," he said. "Are all Chicago ladies
+like you?"
+
+"No. Some of them are not so pretty and are more agreeable," replied the
+girl, nervously. "Please--you just missed that chuck-hole!"
+
+"Why should I care? I do not want to go to Athens."
+
+"No, but you don't want to go to Heaven, either, do you? Or--well, you
+know what I mean. I don't know how much of a jar it would take to make
+this thing go off. A chuck-hole might do it."
+
+Pachuca, evidently depressed, relapsed into silence. It was growing colder
+and darker--would they never get there? However, she would not have been
+Polly had she kept still.
+
+"Señor Pachuca, what did you mean by requisitioning goods? You aren't
+working for the government, are you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Has another revolution broken out?"
+
+"My dear young lady, Sonora has seceded and other states will follow.
+Mexico is about to throw off Carranza and his government. Is that clear?"
+
+"Pretty clear--only I don't understand why you should take our things."
+
+"I am raising a regiment. When it is complete I shall lead it into the
+field to fight for Mexico."
+
+"I see. That's why you wanted our men?"
+
+"A regiment means men, señorita."
+
+"And our blankets and money and guns and victrola records?"
+
+"Why not? You Americans make your profit from us, why should you not share
+in our obligations? Did your generals spare the South when you had your
+Civil War? War is not a pretty thing, señorita."
+
+"They were at war with the South and they took----"
+
+"Exactly. They took. An American has but one code of morals, and that is
+to take. I do not quarrel with it, I like it. I also take."
+
+Polly did not reply. She was tired and cold and she wanted to get home.
+Her hand was cramped and shaky--her threat had not been an idle one. She
+realized also that Pachuca for all his docility was only waiting the
+opportunity to turn the tables on her. He was a young man most fertile in
+expedients and it behooved her to be extremely vigilant. He would be quite
+capable of shooting up the wrong road and carrying her miles in a strange
+direction.
+
+The thought made her feel panicky. She tried to remember the turns in the
+road, only to realize that she had not seen the road--she had been in the
+bottom of the car, her head covered with a blanket when she had traveled
+it so short a time ago. Everything looked ghostly and unreal to her in the
+half light, while Pachuca, she firmly believed, could see in the dark with
+those handsome eyes of his quite as well as any family cat out for a run.
+
+"Go faster, please," she said, sharply, for wherever they were going it
+might be as well to get there before dark. "It's getting late and I'm
+cold."
+
+Obediently Pachuca swung into the next speed and the car bumped cheerfully
+along, the big lights casting a bewildering glare before them.
+
+"If I only knew where we were and what he has up his sleeve!" the girl
+groaned inwardly. "I know he has something because he isn't making any
+fuss. This road is rougher than it was when we came, too; he has taken a
+wrong turn--I know he has!"
+
+Pachuca, apparently resigned to his fate, began to hum melodiously.
+
+"Señor!" Polly's voice was sharp with apprehension and weariness.
+
+"Señorita?"
+
+"We are on the wrong road; I am sure of it. Go back to the place where you
+left it."
+
+"With perfect willingness, dear lady, but where shall I go? The road leads
+to Athens. Is that not where we want to go--I mean where you want to go?"
+
+"No--I don't know--I think you're tricking me. This isn't the way we came.
+It doesn't look to me like a road at all--I think you're going over the
+open country. I----" The girl paused. It was disheartening--to go through
+so much and then to fail at last. She peered ahead into the dim light,
+trying to see what lay beyond the bright lights of the car. It did look
+like open country. Ahead lay a hill--a tall hill. Would Pachuca try to
+make it or would he climb around the side of it? Something--it looked like
+a man on horseback--was coming rapidly down the hill. Had she
+miscalculated and were some of Pachuca's men still on the road? Perhaps
+the same thought struck the Mexican, for he slowed the car down and peered
+eagerly ahead. Polly clutched the revolver feverishly.
+
+"If it's one of your men and you stop--I shall fire!" she said, quickly.
+
+Both stared into the dusk in silence. The rider came almost into the glare
+of the lamps.
+
+"Stop!" cried the girl, loudly. "It's Mr. Scott!"
+
+The car stopped, the horse was drawn to his haunches, and Scott stared at
+the couple over his gun.
+
+"Game's up, Pachuca," he said, shortly. "You're my prisoner."
+
+"Oh!" cried Polly, jumping out of the car and running to Scott. "I knew he
+hadn't killed you--but I wouldn't ask him for fear he'd say he had! I
+knew----" She clutched his stirrup desperately.
+
+Scott stared. "Well. I'm----!" he said, and reaching down he caught the
+swaying girl by the arm.
+
+"I'm not going to faint--I never do," she cried, clinging to his arm.
+"Don't let him get away."
+
+"Keep him covered. He's not going to get away." Scott swung himself out of
+the saddle, wound the bridle reins around the pommel and gave the horse a
+clap which started him toward home. "Well, old man, I'll take the gun, I
+reckon. Thanks. What's up? Getting up a revolution?"
+
+"He doesn't have to; it's already got up," said Polly, as she climbed into
+her place again. "I hid in the car and made him come back," she added.
+"But I was afraid we were off the road."
+
+"You were," said Scott, briefly. "I saw your lights from the hilltop and
+came over this way. He was putting one over on you all right." He tossed
+into the back of the car some of the stuff which was in his way and took
+the seat beside Pachuca who preserved a sullen silence. "Well, I guess
+we've had enough of this. Home, James!"
+
+There was not much conversation. Pachuca was in a bad humor and confined
+his attention to the wheel, a precaution which the increasing darkness
+rendered highly prudent; Scott was intent upon watching the young Mexican,
+determined to have no tricks played upon him; while Polly, exhausted by
+the excitement of the past hour, crouched quietly in the crowded tonneau.
+A long way in the rear the patient pony trotted on his homeward way,
+wondering, no doubt, why things that moved on wheels could go so much
+faster than those traveling on plain, old-fashioned legs.
+
+Out of the dark came a figure on horseback--as unexpectedly as Scott
+himself had done a few moments ago. Scott tightened his grasp on his
+revolver.
+
+"If he's a friend of yours, señor, I'm afraid you'll have to go by without
+recognizing him," he said.
+
+"He is not," replied Pachuca. "My friends are better horsemen than that."
+
+"It's Tom," laughed Scott, suddenly. "He's come after me. Slow down,
+señor, if you please."
+
+Johnson, riding rapidly, swerved suddenly to one side as the big machine
+without lights came toward him.
+
+"What the----" he began.
+
+"Yes, it's us," said Scott, drily. "We've made a haul and we're bringing
+it in. Suppose you wait for that horse of mine, will you, Tom, and see
+that he gets home all right? Thanks to this gentleman and his friends
+we've only got three head of cattle left, so we'd best be careful of
+them."
+
+"You bet," responded Johnson, heartily. "How'd you do it, old man?" he
+asked.
+
+"I didn't, the lady in the case did it," responded Scott. "She'll tell you
+about it later. Whoop her up, will you, señor? It's getting chilly around
+here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE PRISONER
+
+
+Athens was dark and lonely-looking as the big machine reëntered it. There
+was the usual light in the store and one in the house occupied by Mrs. Van
+Zandt and Polly. Scott motioned to Pachuca to draw up in front of the
+cabin. Mrs. Van Zandt came out as the machine stopped; evidently she was
+in doubt as to whether or not it was another invasion, for she stopped in
+the doorway and peered out anxiously.
+
+"It's all right, Mrs. Van!" cried Scott, cheerfully. "I've brought her
+back."
+
+Polly jumped out and ran to the astonished woman. "It's all right," she
+reiterated.
+
+"Yes, I see it is; but where did you get that car?"
+
+"It's Señor Pachuca's and we've got him, too," replied the girl, in an
+undertone. "And we've brought back some of the things they took."
+
+"Has Hard come back?" demanded Scott, as Mrs. Van came out to the
+machine.
+
+"No, and I wish he would. I'm worried about Jimmy Adams. Where are you
+going to put that chap?" asked Mrs. Van, eyeing Pachuca resentfully.
+
+"I think I'll ask him to spend the night in Hard's office," replied Scott,
+thoughtfully. "It's the only place we've got that isn't on the ground
+floor, and I guess nobody wants to put in the night doing sentry duty.
+Just bring over a couple of blankets, will you, Mrs. Van?"
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt and Polly went into the house and Scott with his prisoner
+walked across to the office where they fell in with O'Grady, who grinned
+pleasantly when the state of affairs was explained to him.
+
+"Come back to spend the night with us? Sure we can make him comfy!
+Up-stairs, son. You can have the engineer's office to yourself," he added,
+hospitably.
+
+"I don't like leaving you here, Pachuca," said Scott, as he threw open the
+door of Hard's office. "It's not my idea of entertaining the aristocracy,
+but it's the best I can do for a gentleman of your peculiar habits."
+
+"What is your idea?" remarked Pachuca, surveying the small room
+nonchalantly. "Don't you think it would be more practical to let me go? I
+can't do any more harm to-day, you know."
+
+"That's just what I don't know," replied Scott, quietly. "I know you can't
+do any harm to anyone but yourself while you're locked up here, and I want
+to turn you over in my mind a little."
+
+"I'll make it worth your while to let me drive that car off the place
+while you're all asleep," proposed Pachuca, smiling.
+
+"You're a persuasive cuss, but we need that car."
+
+"Going to do a little banditing on our own hook," put in O'Grady,
+cheerfully.
+
+"Shut up, Matt! We'll send you over some supper, Pachuca, and some bedding
+by and by," and locking the door behind them, the two men went
+downstairs.
+
+"You think he can't slide out?" suggested Matt, doubtfully. "He's a crafty
+devil."
+
+"If he wants to risk breaking a bone or two jumping out of the window, let
+him try," said Scott, easily. "How's Williams?"
+
+"Pretty good. No bones broke and Mrs. Van bandaged him up. He's sore as
+the devil about his stuff."
+
+"We got a good deal of it back. We'll run the car down to the store and
+see just what we did get." And Scott related Polly's adventure with much
+enjoyment.
+
+"She's a mighty game youngster," declared O'Grady, admiringly. "I didn't
+know they raised 'em like that in the East."
+
+"I'll swear I didn't. Lucky for His Nobs she didn't let a bullet into him
+by mistake."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It's a case of 'eventually, why not now?'"
+
+A search of the machine revealed the more important part of the loot--the
+money taken from the safe in the office, Williams' cash box, and a good
+many firearms, blankets and small items. Horses, saddles, bridles, canned
+goods and innumerable other effects had been carried off by the horseback
+riders, never to be regained, unless, as Scott suggested, Pachuca could be
+traded off for them. And, of course, the mine would have to be closed down
+until more workers could be obtained, rather an improbable thing in the
+present state of the country.
+
+"What beats me is, how did you happen to think of it?" demanded O'Grady of
+Polly a little later as they sat around the dining-room table eating a
+hastily improvised supper.
+
+Polly chuckled. "Well, you see," she said, modestly, "we've been having a
+lot of auto hold-ups in Chicago this winter and one of them happened to a
+friend of mine.
+
+"She and a friend were coming home from a party one afternoon, and when
+she drew up at the house, two young men popped into the car, pointed
+revolvers at her and told her to drive up the avenue. Well, she drove up
+the avenue! She said the feel of that cold thing on the back of her neck
+kept her awake at night for months. Then when they had gone a little way,
+they stopped, dumped both the women out, and went off with the car."
+
+"Gosh, Chicago must be a great little place!" remarked Matt, admiringly.
+
+"It just came to me when I saw them putting all those things into the car
+that if anybody could hide in it and make whoever was driving return the
+goods it would be--well--rather a nice thing to do. Of course, I took an
+awful chance. The horseback people might not have taken the trail--but
+even then the machine would have outdistanced them. I felt sure I could
+get Pachuca alone."
+
+"You took a chance you'd no business to take," growled Scott. "When I told
+you to stay down in that arroyo, I meant stay."
+
+"I know you did but I couldn't," apologized Polly.
+
+"The only thing you did wrong was not leaving that young reptile in the
+middle of the road like the thieves did those women," pronounced Mrs. Van
+Zandt, authoritatively.
+
+"I thought of it but I didn't have the heart," said Polly. "After all,
+he'd been kind to me, and he is a gentleman."
+
+"Gentleman! My God!" Scott's profanity was innocent with true horror.
+
+"First time I ever heard a hoss-thief called a gentleman," chuckled Matt.
+
+"Well," Polly looked a bit crestfallen. "I mean, he's educated and he
+comes of good family."
+
+"I don't go much on family," said Mrs. Van, wisely. "I've seen some mighty
+mean skunks hangin' around stage doors who were as blue-blooded as dogs in
+a show. Why, even your own family you can't be too sure about! I had an
+old auntie who used to say she never went back of second cousins--'twasn't
+safe."
+
+"Well, that's true, too," pronounced Matt. "Some don't feel easy even with
+seconds." He gathered up his dishes and followed Mrs. Van into the kitchen
+with them. Polly ate industriously, while Scott stalked to the window and
+stood lighting a cigarette.
+
+"Mr. Scott," she said, after a long pause, "are you worried about Jimmy
+Adams?"
+
+"Yes, I am," was the curt reply.
+
+"Isn't there a doctor in Conejo?"
+
+"Yes, but he's a dirty scoundrel; I'd hate to have him handle a case like
+this. We may have to, though, thanks to your gentleman friend."
+
+"You're rather a rude person, aren't you?"
+
+"I reckon so. Anyhow, if he's a gentleman, I'm afraid I'd never pass
+muster."
+
+"Still," persisted Polly, pleasantly, "you will admit that he is
+agreeable?"
+
+"Agreeable nothing!" growled Scott. "He's a disreputable young varmint,
+and no decent girl ought to speak to him."
+
+Polly smiled and rising, gathered up her plate and cup and carried them to
+the hole in the wall. Then she walked over to the window and said
+confidentially:
+
+"I think it would be fun if you would tell me some of the things he's
+done. Not the yarn about the actress and the man higher up--Mr. Hard told
+me that--but some other really exciting ones."
+
+"I'm not sufficiently interested in the chap," replied Scott, gruffly.
+"Perhaps you'd like to carry him his dinner and ask him to tell you
+himself."
+
+"I would," replied the girl, promptly. "I thought perhaps you were
+thinking of starving him."
+
+"No, I don't care to starve him. I want to swap him off for our horses, if
+I can. He ain't worth a dozen or two good horses, but we can try."
+
+"Well, of course, we have the car to make things square."
+
+"Yes, we have the car, in case we have to quit in a hurry."
+
+"Quit? You mean before Bob comes back?" the girl's face was a bit scared.
+
+"We may get orders to close up the mine. You heard what he said--that the
+state had seceded? Well, that means civil war, and civil war in Mexico can
+mean a good many things. I'm not sure that I want two women on my hands
+under the circumstances."
+
+"What are you talking about, Marc Scott? Is it a Yaqui rising?" Mrs. Van
+Zandt thrust her head through the hole in the wall.
+
+"I don't know what it is. Pachuca says there's a revolution on. I'm hoping
+to get more news about it when Hard comes back."
+
+"I don't take much stock in these Yaqui yarns," said Matt, coming back
+with another supply of food.
+
+"Them Indians ain't half as bad as the greasers like to make out. Of
+course, they feel like they had a right to raise thunder now and then
+because they know they ain't been treated white. But you take it from me,
+I've been knockin' around Mexico for some time, and nine times out of ten
+there's a greaser back of everything that's laid at a Yaqui's door."
+
+"That's true enough," nodded Mrs. Van.
+
+"I made up my mind when I read in that El Paso paper that there was going
+to be a Yaqui rising and that the gov'ment was orderin' troops into
+Sonora, that the gov'ment most probably had somethin' up its sleeve."
+
+"Most likely," acceded Scott.
+
+"Well, I don't expect to understand Mexican politics," said Polly, "but
+why, if Mr. Carranza wants to be president again, doesn't he come out like
+a little man and say so, instead of trying to stir up things with
+troops?"
+
+"He can't be president again. The constitution under which he took office
+forbids a second term," replied Scott. "He might be military dictator,
+however, if he stirred up a revolution and came out on top. That's what
+the Sonora people say. But you can't tell; it may be a square deal and
+there may be a Yaqui rising."
+
+"Even then this ain't the place for women folks," grumbled O'Grady.
+
+"Nor men neither," retorted Mrs. Van Zandt. "I've been trying to get Mr.
+Herrick on the 'phone to let him know there was trouble on board, but I
+couldn't even get Central."
+
+"Pachuca would attend to that, of course," said Scott. "We'll drive over
+there in the morning and see if he doesn't want to come back with us."
+
+"Am I really going to see that fascinating person?" sighed Polly. "I'm
+beginning to think he's just hot air."
+
+"Mighty little hot air about old Herrick," chuckled Matt. "All wool and a
+yard wide, I'd say."
+
+"Well, he is. That's more than I'd say about a good many artistic chaps,"
+remarked Mrs. Van. "Most of 'em I hate--they're so crooked. The Lord
+starts 'em weak and the women finish 'em. He sure can play, though.
+Regular pictures--some of the things he composes. I can see the cows
+grazing on the hills in some of 'em."
+
+"How queer of him to stay down here!" said the girl, wonderingly.
+
+"Why?" demanded Scott, warmly. "It seems to me that a country like this
+has a lot more to offer that kind of man than your cities have. What's New
+York or Chicago got to give him like these grim old mountains, and the
+lonesome little canyons with the cows feeding up and down hunting for
+water holes, and the Mexican folks with their soft voices and fancy
+manners and all the rest of it?"
+
+"Cows are queer," continued Mrs. Van, pursuing her own thought cheerfully.
+"Ever see the old ones get between you and the calves when you rode by
+'em? Awful kind of human, they are."
+
+Scott chuckled. "One summer I was up in New Mexico on a ranch when they
+were rounding up. They brought in the cattle from all over the place; for
+days they were getting in strays out of the canyons. Among them were two
+old bulls. Funny old codgers they were, and as much alike as two peas in a
+pod--fat, chunky, ragged looking old rascals.
+
+"Well, all during the round-up those old boys stayed together--in the bull
+pen and out. We named them Tweedledum and Tweedledee. By George, after
+they'd been turned out on the range again, I was riding down a canyon
+about a couple of miles from the ranch, and who should I see but those two
+old pals, hoofing it together as chummy as two old men walking in the
+park."
+
+"Well, how's the chow?" Johnson's voice came from the doorway. "Not much
+left, I should say, judging from the happy faces I see around me."
+
+"Come in, Tommy, I'm just gettin' something ready for that Mexican, but
+there's plenty for you," said Mrs. Van.
+
+"Where'd you put the feller?"
+
+"In Hard's office," said Scott. "Will you cart him his grub, Matt?"
+
+"You said I might. I want to," protested Polly.
+
+"Certainly." Scott handed her the key ceremoniously. "You've earned the
+right to have your own way to-night, but Matt goes with you. He's not
+above throttling you to make a getaway."
+
+"It's a funny world," mused Polly, as she walked along beside Matt, who
+carried the tray balanced aloft on one outstretched palm. "Three weeks ago
+I was going to teas at the Blackstone; now I'm carrying grub to a Mexican
+bandit with the assistance of a fireman. How awfully well you carry that
+tray!" she said, admiringly.
+
+"Sure! Learned to do that one winter in Minneapolis when I was out of a
+job. Handy sort of thing to know."
+
+"Oh!" gasped the girl. Then to herself: "Why should I think it queer?
+Cousin Ben put himself through college by waiting on the students at table
+and we thought he had a lot of pep to do it."
+
+"You go on up and holler to the guy that we're coming but don't you open
+the door till I get there. He might paste you one."
+
+Polly complied. She sprang up the stairs with a freedom of motion that won
+O'Grady's silent admiration.
+
+"Some action!" he commented. "Takes them stairs as easy as a pussy-cat
+goes up a tree. Some girl that! Old Scotty's jealous of the greaser--do
+him good--he's gettin' to be a regular old settin' hen. Hope she shakes
+him up a bit."
+
+"Señor Pachuca!" called Polly at the top of the stairs. "We've brought you
+some supper. May we come in?"
+
+"Gracias, señorita, but that rests with you," was the response.
+
+"I'm going to open it. He won't do anything," said Polly, decidedly.
+
+The room was dimly lighted. In the open window sat Pachuca--outside lay
+the open country, moonlit and lovely, the grim coloring of the day now
+touched with silvery softness. Pachuca leaped to his feet and relieved the
+girl of the tray which he placed on the desk.
+
+"I am obliged," he said, with a touch of a sneer. "The services of a major
+domo and a beautiful waitress are more than I expected."
+
+"If you ask me, I'd say it was more than you deserve," replied Matt,
+tersely. "I'm going out to sit on the stairs. If the lady wants to stop
+and visit with you she can, but don't you try no monkey tricks because
+they won't go down. I'm heeled."
+
+Pachuca shrugged his shapely shoulders, seated himself and began to eat.
+
+"I am hungry," he admitted. "I have had what you call a hard day's work."
+
+"I wish," said the girl, severely, "that you'd tell me why you do such
+things? You're a gentleman--not a bandit."
+
+"Of course I'm not a bandit." Pachuca's composure appeared to be deserting
+him. "You do not seem to understand--you Americans--that Mexico is our
+country and that we must deal with its political situations independently
+of you and your affairs."
+
+"Oh," innocently, "I didn't know that political situations demanded
+blankets and victrola records."
+
+"You must make allowances for my people. They are poor and ignorant."
+
+"It isn't the people we complain about. They only do what you tell them
+to. Why should you come and tell them to stop working for us?"
+
+"In your country it is only the walking delegate who does that?" grinned
+Pachuca.
+
+"That's different. This wasn't a strike. These men didn't want to stop
+work."
+
+"My dear girl, you seem to have lost sight of the fact that a revolution
+is taking place. It is their duty to stop working and to fight."
+
+"It always seems to be their duty to fight and they never get anything out
+of it!"
+
+"They do get something out of it. They got their land when they overthrew
+Diaz. With Carranza, they got a new constitution. With Obregon, they will
+get peace and a good government."
+
+"Then you are for Obregon?"
+
+"Naturally. But I must have men and horses and munitions. I--Juan
+Pachuca--cannot fight in the ranks."
+
+"I don't see why not," said Polly, candidly. "My brother fought in the
+ranks and he's a college man. He didn't mind."
+
+"Oh, well, in America--that is different! You have no ideas as to family.
+I beg your pardon, what I mean is, that your people are different."
+
+"Well, I hope we are," replied Polly, piously. "But I'm afraid some of us
+aren't as different as we ought to be."
+
+"Now we are even," said the Mexican, showing his white teeth. "And you
+know why I took your men and horses. They will be made good to you when
+the country becomes settled."
+
+"I hope so, but it seems to me you're going to have so many people to
+settle with that some of us are going to come out at the little end. Of
+course, your car will help some."
+
+Pachuca frowned. "Señorita," he said, gravely, "I must have the car and I
+must get away from here to-night. Much depends upon it. Won't you help
+me?" He leaned toward her as he spoke, his dark eyes luminous, his voice
+soft and caressing.
+
+"The tiger kitty is purring," thought Polly. "It's a nice kitty but I
+mustn't pet it. Señor," she said, "I'm sorry, but I can't."
+
+"Say rather that you won't."
+
+Polly fingered the key which she had taken from Matt. Then she put it in
+the pocket of her sweater.
+
+"It would be easy," said Pachuca, persuasively. "You could throw it into
+the window there when everyone was asleep."
+
+"It would be easy," agreed Polly, "but it wouldn't be nice."
+
+Pachuca ate for a moment in silence. "I suppose," he said, finally, "that
+an American girl never does anything that is not nice?"
+
+"Well, I'd hardly go as far as to say that," replied Polly, "but I don't
+think you'd find many who would be as dishonest as--oh, what's the use?
+You know I'd like to do it for you because you were kind to me, and I do
+not believe you meant to kidnap me----"
+
+"Kidnap you!" wrathfully. "Who said I meant to kidnap you?"
+
+"Oh, nobody, only----"
+
+Pachuca began to laugh; gently at first, then wholeheartedly.
+
+"He is jealous--that good Marc Scott! He told you I wanted to kidnap
+you--like Villa, eh? Does he think a Spanish gentleman so unattractive
+that he has to kidnap a young lady in order to make love to her?"
+
+"I don't know what he thinks and I don't care," said Polly, angrily. "And
+I wouldn't have come here if I had thought you were going to be foolish. I
+wanted to show you that I wasn't ungrateful----"
+
+Pachuca had jumped to his feet and stood between her and the door. His
+manner was respectful and apologetic.
+
+"Señorita, I beg your pardon! Indeed----"
+
+"It's not necessary," said the girl, coldly, trying to pass him.
+
+"No, no, I beg--do not go." Then, in a lower tone, "I had a double reason
+for asking your help. I can be of help to you and to your brother."
+
+Polly paused in some surprise. From the stairway came the sound of
+energetic whistling--a medley of the "Wearin' of the Green" and the "Long,
+Long Trail." Pachuca continued eagerly.
+
+"Yes, it sounds very extravagant, I know; what my brother-in-law used to
+call a bit thick. But I can help you--to a treasure."
+
+"A treasure?" incredulously.
+
+"Exactly. You have heard that I was for a time with Villa?"
+
+Polly nodded.
+
+"Well, in his camp I met some very strange people--among them a fellow
+named Gasca--what you call a bad lot. He told me one night when he was
+very drunk--you know, señorita, how some people talk about their affairs
+when they are drunk?"
+
+Polly's eyes were beginning to shine with excitement.
+
+"He told me that he and his brother had hidden a treasure over in New
+Mexico."
+
+"A treasure! Do you mean pieces-of-eight and Spanish doubloons?"
+
+"Oh, no, I am afraid not. It would be bullion--ore. They took it from one
+of the Fiske, Doane Co. mines in Chihuahua. That is why your brother would
+be interested. Perhaps you have heard of the Sant Ynez mine?"
+
+"Bullion!" Polly's face dropped.
+
+"For me, I would not object to bullion if I could get my hands on it, but
+I can't," said Pachuca, candidly. "Gasca, you understand, had this brother
+who lived in New Mexico, in a lonely sort of a spot on the border, with an
+Indian woman that he had stolen from her people. He helped Gasca get the
+treasure across the border--and they hid it in the canyon where he lived.
+
+"Shortly after that they quarreled and the brother threatened to shoot
+Gasca if he came near the place. Also, he told the border patrol some
+things about Gasca so that he was afraid to go over any more. Just after I
+met Gasca, he had heard, in a roundabout way as my people hear things,
+that the brother had been killed and the Indian woman had died of a
+sickness. Gasca wanted me to go over with him to find out if the treasure
+was still there--he felt sure that it was because he said the brother
+would be afraid to dispose of it without his help--but I had what you call
+other fish to fry. Afterward, Gasca himself was shot for disobeying a
+command of the general. If you will help me to get away I will tell you
+exactly where that treasure is."
+
+Polly rose suddenly, the light of determination in her eyes.
+
+"No," she said, firmly. "I won't. Mr. O'Grady, will you come and help me
+with this tray, please?"
+
+"Sure Mike!" In two strides the fireman was in the room, his eyes looking
+searchingly at both the man and the girl. Pachuca, with a shrug of his
+shoulders, put his hands in his pockets and strode to the window. The
+dishes were piled up in silence, the door was locked--the key returning to
+Polly's sweater pocket, and the two went back to the dining-room.
+
+"Say, was that guy tryin' to get fresh with you?" demanded Matt, as they
+went along. "I set out there on the steps because I thought mebbe you
+wanted to chat with the crittur, being acquaintances like, but if I'd of
+thought that he----"
+
+"No, no, he was trying to bribe me to let him go."
+
+"Let him go? Well, if he ain't got a nerve! What'd he offer you--a castle
+in Spain?"
+
+"No," replied the girl, "a buried treasure in New Mexico."
+
+"What? Well, say, he must have thought you was green to fall for that
+stuff. A bright, wide-awake girl like you, too. Was it under an elm tree
+fifty paces off by moonlight?"
+
+"Why? Couldn't there be a buried treasure in New Mexico?"
+
+"Well, I suppose there could if there's been a fool to bury it; but it
+seems to me I'd of tried something snappier if I'd been him. An oil well,
+or shares in a gold mine, or somethin' first class in the bunk line."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+AT LIBERTY
+
+
+Polly and Matt continued their walk in silence until they reached the
+dining-room. They found Scott sitting as they had left him, smoking and
+thinking; while, through the hole in the wall, Mrs. Van Zandt could be
+seen and heard busy with the dishes.
+
+"Well, did His Nobs enjoy his tea?" asked Scott.
+
+"He did that! Kicked into it like a little man," replied Matt, cheerfully.
+"Also he made the young lady a real sporting proposition."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Oh, don't be absurd!" snapped Polly, disgustedly. "Anybody'd suppose you
+were college boys at thé dansant." And she went into the kitchen.
+
+"Well, you see what you get, Matt; you would horn in. What do you mean--a
+sporting proposition?"
+
+"Oh, a rich one. Buried treasure up in New Mexico--secret chart handed
+down to Juan Pachuca by a maiden aunt--I don't know what all--just to get
+the key of the office, but she was too sharp for him."
+
+"I should hope so. Is that Hard?" Scott went to the window as the sound of
+hoof-beats was heard. Down the street came a man on horseback. Silhouetted
+against the moonlight, the tall Bostonian acquired a picturesqueness
+lacking in daylight. "I've got to take Hard out one of these days and
+teach him how to ride," remarked Scott, meditatively. "Jolt some of that
+Boston stiffness out of him."
+
+"You can't," replied the Irishman, placidly. "It's in his blood. His
+ancestors brought it over in the _Mayflower_ with 'em from England. I'll
+bet you Paul Revere rode just like Hard does."
+
+"Shucks, Matt, those English guys can ride--stands to reason they can.
+Look at the cross-country stuff they do! And on an English saddle at
+that."
+
+"Country? The country they ride over's nothing to what the Irish do. A
+feller told me----"
+
+"Hello, boys, what's up? Why the theatre supper?" demanded Hard,
+entering.
+
+He listened to the particulars which poured upon him. "Well," he said,
+finally, "I'm sorry I missed the excitement. 'Twas ever thus. The only
+time our house ever burned down I was at a matinée of the 'Black Crook.'
+Well, you saved the cash?"
+
+"Miss Polly did," grinned Scott. "And we've got the boy that made the
+mischief."
+
+"Jimmy much hurt?"
+
+"Afraid so."
+
+"I was afraid something like this would happen," said Hard. "They told me
+over in Conejo that there was trouble on. They had an all-night session at
+Hermosillo and the state seceded."
+
+"That's what Pachuca says."
+
+"Morgan's taken his family up to Douglas."
+
+"Any news from Bob?"
+
+"Just a letter for Miss Polly."
+
+"We won't desert until we have orders, but I'm rather glad to have the
+car," continued Scott. "I thought we'd run over and see Herrick in the
+morning."
+
+"I say, Scott, that Chinaman of Herrick's is a doctor. Why not have him
+take a look at Jimmy's leg?"
+
+"A Chinaman!" Polly had come in with Hard's coffee.
+
+"Sure!" cried Scott. "Just the thing. I'd forgotten about him. When a
+Chink is scientific, he's as scientific as the devil."
+
+"He came over to practice medicine; you know how the Mexicans feel about
+the Chinese? His money went and he had to do what he could. Herrick picked
+him up somewhere and he's been there ever since," said Hard.
+
+"We'll get him over here for Jimmy. He's clean at any rate."
+
+"Listen to this!" Polly had opened her letter. "It's from Mother," she
+explained. "Poor old Bob's in the hospital--just been operated on for
+appendicitis! Isn't that the limit? On a honeymoon!"
+
+"Hard luck," commented Scott. "How's he coming on?"
+
+"She says he's doing splendidly. You see, he's been dodging that operation
+for the last ten years, and now it's got him, poor boy. Mother says
+they're worried to death about me."
+
+"And well they may be," remarked Mrs. Van Zandt, heartily.
+
+"She says the directors have met but didn't do anything."
+
+"That sounds natural," said Hard. "They've been doing that for the last
+three years."
+
+"Trying to figure out which costs less; to give up the property, or to pay
+us our salaries to hold it down," chuckled Scott.
+
+"She says I am to come home at once," continued Polly, "but that I am not
+to try to travel alone. Either Mr. Scott or Mr. Hard is to go with me to
+the border."
+
+"I'm glad somebody in your family has got good sense," said Scott, grimly.
+"It's a pity those things aren't hereditary."
+
+"Thank you. I think I prefer to have Mr. Hard go."
+
+Hard bowed solemnly. "Bob coming back?" he asked.
+
+"As soon as they'll let him," said Bob's sister, promptly.
+
+"Yes, he likes a scrap," remarked Scott. "I hope they keep the papers away
+from him this next week. Well, it's lucky for you, Miss Polly, that we've
+got Pachuca's car. Traveling on these railroads is bad enough at any time,
+but with a brand new revolution on hand, it'll be the deuce."
+
+"I think it's rather horrid of them not to care whether I go home or not,"
+Polly told herself, as she undressed for bed. "They might at least pretend
+they don't want me to go! I always supposed that the one girl in a mining
+camp would be dazzlingly popular--but this doesn't look much like it. And
+yet--he likes me, I know he does! He liked my bringing the car back; I saw
+it in his eyes, if he did make fun of me.
+
+"He's jealous of Don Juan, too. Well, that won't do him any harm. He's so
+determined not to fall in love with me that he's going to need a little
+outside interference to make him change his mind. He's got to change his
+mind because I--yes, I do care for him--a lot. People may think these
+things don't come suddenly outside of books, but they do--oh, they do!"
+And, worn out by the exertions of the day, Polly curled herself in a knot
+and prepared to sleep.
+
+Juan Baptisto Pachuca had not availed himself of the shakedown made for
+him by Mrs. Van Zandt's blankets. He had put out his light because he
+wanted to think and he preferred thinking by moonlight. He sat in Hard's
+office chair by the window, closed now, for the night was cool, and
+drummed impatiently upon the arm of it.
+
+Mentally, Pachuca was more than impatient; he was outraged. His plans had
+been spoiled, his liberty restricted and his dignity impaired. He had been
+made to look ridiculous. Of all the offenses against him the latter was
+the most serious. He hated giving up anything he had put his mind on, but
+he hated a great deal more being made ridiculous.
+
+Nor was it pleasant to be triumphed over by a girl. Juan Pachuca liked
+girls, especially good-looking ones, but he liked them in their places,
+not in the larger affairs of life. When they insisted upon mixing
+themselves up with such affairs, they ceased, in his estimation, to be
+pretty girls and became merely tiresome members of the other sex.
+
+Had Polly Street given in to his proposals of escape he would have felt in
+a better temper with her, but he would not have been at all tempted to
+fall in love with her. He had been in the mood for that once--the night
+they had come over from Conejo together--but Fate, or the girl herself, or
+Marc Scott, he had hardly taken the time to decide which, had interfered
+and that was over.
+
+Pachuca bore Polly no ill will for her part in that affair. That was her
+province--a love affair. A lady had the privilege of granting or denying
+her favors; it was not always because she wanted to that she denied them.
+He knew a good deal about that sort of thing and he was willing to give
+and take very agreeably in the game of love, without repining if things
+didn't seem to be going his way.
+
+This, however, was a question of business and Juan Pachuca considered that
+any woman who could get ahead of him in a matter of business would have to
+get up exceedingly early in the morning. He would get out of that room or
+he would know the reason why. It was highly important that he should. In
+fact, his plans for the next few days depended absolutely upon his so
+doing.
+
+Pachuca's business head, for all his conceit about it, was exceedingly
+primitive. His had been rather a primitive career from its beginning.
+Hard's story of the actress, while not entirely correct, had its
+foundation in fact. Pachuca had been disgraced; to be disgraced in any
+manner is bad enough, but to be disgraced for doing something that you
+know quite well is being done in perfect security by most of the people
+with whom you are connected is particularly galling.
+
+Aching to thwart the government he hated, Pachuca hastened to ally himself
+with its particular enemy and to work against it with all the impetuosity
+of his nature. But Francisco Villa was not an easy man for anyone as heady
+as Juan Pachuca to get on with. There were quarrels and more quarrels, and
+finally Pachuca, again disgusted with the world and its people, retired to
+private life.
+
+He was not, however, built for private life. Some of us are like that. We
+need the excitement and the stimulus of action to bring out our better
+points. Also, Pachuca's friends were not of the sort who cared much for
+the quiet life. In those few months of association with the great Villa,
+he had met men of various kinds; men who were honestly trying to do
+something for Mexico; men who were dishonestly trying to do something for
+themselves; and men who were in such a truly desperate frame of mind after
+ten years of revolution, banditry, and general upset, that they scarcely
+knew what they were doing.
+
+Pachuca, who for all his aristocratic blood, was an exceedingly good
+mixer, had enjoyed these various and sundry associations and in the quiet
+of private life he yearned for them. Very much as a celebrated actress
+feels the lure of the footlights after she has left them for matrimony and
+the fireside, very much as the superannuated fire horse is said to react
+to the alarm, so Pachuca yearned for the agreeable persons with whom he
+had foregathered since leaving the army.
+
+When there were rumors of another revolution, he began to think of looking
+up some of these exceedingly live wires, and seeing what could be done for
+Freedom, Mexico, and Juan Pachuca. It was with the idea of informing
+himself as to these matters that he had taken the journey which had
+resulted in his meeting with Polly Street, and the fortnight which she had
+spent in Athens had been used to accomplish a number of things.
+
+Himself rather a good judge of which way the political cat might be
+expected to jump at this particular crisis, Pachuca had decided to throw
+in his lot with the Obregonistas. He knew Obregon, knew his hold on the
+people, his popularity with the labor party, and it looked to him very
+much as though that general of fascinating Irish ancestry had a good
+chance of being Mexico's next president.
+
+At the same time he realized perfectly that his own reputation with the
+Obregonistas was not good. Various tales current among Mexicans of
+political standing, in regard to his relations with Villa, would be very
+much against him, and services rendered the Carranza government would
+hardly be likely to stand him in good stead. Pachuca wanted to stand well
+with the new party if he stood with them at all. He intended that the next
+president of Mexico should confer upon him an office of distinction, and
+offices of this sort must be earned, not only in Mexico but anywhere. In
+the great republic near by which Pachuca hoped some day to visit,
+preferably on a state mission, things were handled in this way also. If he
+could bring to the revolutionary chiefs of the new party men, arms, and
+money, he might hope for a warm reception.
+
+During the fortnight referred to he had communicated with one Angel
+Gonzales, previously mentioned, who had also quarreled with Villa and been
+rigorously persecuted by him. Gonzales was at the head of a small band
+which he was quite willing to consolidate with Pachuca's men, and they had
+agreed to meet and discuss ways and means. It was toward this rendezvous
+that Pachuca had been journeying when he stopped to raid the Athens mining
+camp.
+
+To be stopped at such a time was not to be endured. Pachuca looked around
+the small room angrily. He looked out of the window. It was a bad drop but
+not an impossible one. An athlete might manage it, he supposed, but he was
+not an athlete--he was a gentleman and a soldier. It would be a nasty
+thing to try it and to break a leg. He had never tried breaking a leg but
+he remembered having heard the family physician say that a broken leg
+meant a six weeks' vacation and he had no mind for a vacation on those
+terms.
+
+He went to the door--locked, of course, he had heard the girl turn the
+key, but one might burst it open. He tried, several times, but the door
+held maddeningly. There was no transom, no other door--nothing but the
+plastered walls and the window. He turned again to the window, and threw
+it open. The cool night air came in refreshingly. In the distance, the
+dark shapes of the mountains stood out forbiddingly in the moonlight.
+Millions of stars winked and twinkled. Gaunt cacti reared their ungainly
+shapes--beautiful because of their very ugliness.
+
+Somewhere over in those mountains Angel Gonzales was wending a torturous
+path to meet him. Angel would swear and rage when he did not come. Then he
+would probably annex Pachuca's men and their plunder and go cheerfully on
+his way. That would be Angel's idea of the philosophical manner of
+handling the situation. Juan ground his white teeth in a fury. Again he
+hung out of the window. The moonlight was so glaring that he was easily
+visible had anyone been watching, but all the lights in Athens were out
+and the inhabitants in bed.
+
+Pachuca swung lightly out of the window and with a very cattish agility
+caught the sill with both hands and lowered himself. He looked down. It
+was the devil of a drop. Ten chances to one he would turn an ankle at the
+very least. He made a wry face. One does not do things successfully when
+one does them in this frame of mind. With an effort surprising in one so
+slight he drew himself back into the window again. There must be another
+way. It was positively not on the cards for him to be fooled in this
+stupid manner. He could see his car standing near the corral and the sight
+urged him to greater efforts.
+
+He paced angrily up and down the floor. It was a very solid floor. As far
+as he was concerned it might be regarded as an invincible floor. If he had
+a pick, perhaps--Pachuca's eyes brightened, and a roguish look came into
+them. He had been thinking as he often did in English, being practically
+bi-lingual, and the word suggested something to him. Why not pick the
+lock? He felt eagerly in his pocket for his knife--left, alas, in the
+pocket of his leather coat in the machine. Still, there might be one
+somewhere about. In the desk, perhaps. The saints would help a good
+Spaniard, undoubtedly. Pachuca was not unduly religious, and he could not
+recall at the moment any saint renowned for picking locks, so he let it go
+at that and began to hunt. Some sort of tool might be found in the desk.
+
+The desk yielded pencils, pens, erasers, and other harmless implements
+without number, but nothing even remotely resembling a knife. Pachuca
+slammed the drawers angrily and resumed his tramping. The night was
+getting on and he was apparently no nearer freedom than when the girl had
+left him. He cursed volubly and disgustedly.
+
+"I suppose if I had the shoulders of that abominable Scott I could break
+the door!" he muttered. "On the other hand," he mused, grimly, "if I had
+had his brains I would not be here. It was a foolish business--trying to
+confiscate American property. It rarely pays." Pachuca, like the famous
+Mr. Pecksniff, believed in keeping up appearances even with one's self.
+His attempt was confiscation distinctly and not robbery. "It was talking
+with the American girl that day on the train that put it into my head. She
+would talk about her brother and his mine. Juan Pachuca, when will you
+learn to let women alone? Every time a woman comes upon the scene
+something disagreeable happens--and usually to you."
+
+He paused by the window and surveyed it distastefully. "If I have to go
+out by that window, I will--but I do not like it. If I could bribe someone
+to put up a ladder! But they are all asleep--the lazy fools."
+
+He glanced at the shakedown which Mrs. Van Zandt had sent over by Miller,
+the idea of a rope ladder made of sheets having floated idly through his
+head. Alas, the shakedown consisted of a small hard mattress and a couple
+of blankets, army blankets at that. Anyone who can make a rope ladder of
+army blankets, with nothing more solid to fasten them to than a rickety
+old desk, must be cleverer than even Juan Pachuca considered himself.
+
+With a sigh of surrender he returned to the window. It was the only way;
+broken bones or no broken bones, it must be attempted. If he were unlucky
+enough to meet with disaster, he must crawl as far as the car, and once in
+the car he defied anyone, white, brown or black to stop him. If only they
+had left him his gun!
+
+Carefully Pachuca balanced himself once more on the window and swung
+himself out, still clinging to the sill. The drop looked easier than it
+had before; he felt almost cheerful about it. Give him five minutes alone
+in the moonlight and he would have his liberty, his car and his triumph
+over Gringo carelessness. At the same moment, there arose out of the
+stillness the loud and penetrating bark of an aroused dog.
+
+Yellow, who slept anywhere, being a tramp dog by nature, had elected to
+pass the night outside Scott's window, and the cabin in which Scott was
+sleeping was across the street and only a few feet away from the window
+from which Pachuca was trying to escape. Not content with barking, the
+interfering Yellow started on a gallop for the peculiar looking person
+hanging out of the window. Almost instantly, a light flashed in Scott's
+room and a head was thrust out of the window.
+
+With an exasperated groan Pachuca drew himself back again and waited.
+Scott's head was withdrawn, and two seconds later, Scott, himself, clad in
+pajamas and a bathrobe, dashed out of the cabin and was met by another
+figure which seemed to spring from nowhere. Pachuca thought the second
+figure looked like Miller, the man who had brought his blankets, but he
+was not sure. By this time the dog had stopped barking and was following
+the two men. Pachuca stood in the window, waiting developments. Scott
+looked up with evident relief.
+
+"You're there, are you?" he said.
+
+"So it appears," disgustedly. "Am I a cat to scramble out of a window?"
+
+"Well, Yellow was barking at something," replied Scott, with a grin.
+"Might have been a plain, four-footed one, and it might have been a human
+puss. If you don't mind, I reckon I'll tie him to the front door down
+here. He's rough on cats."
+
+"Suit yourself, _amigo_, I'm going to sleep," was the disdainful reply.
+
+Well, that ended going out by the window. Pachuca, having a Latin dislike
+for fresh air in the sleeping-room, closed the window angrily and threw
+himself down on the mattress. It was hard and there was no pillow. The
+blankets he would need to keep him warm. Pachuca, though used to
+hardships, dearly loved his comfort. He glanced around the room again; an
+old office coat hanging on a peg in a corner caught his eye. It would do
+for a pillow. He took it down and rolled it into a wad. As he did so, a
+clinking sound became audible. He reached into the pocket--a bunch of keys
+and an old hunting-knife came to light.
+
+Pachuca grinned. Well, Heaven was looking out for its own; it was not in
+the nature of things that a Pachuca should be trampled in the dust by the
+proletariat! Patiently, one after another, he tried the keys--ah, the
+right one at last! He turned it and the door opened. Pachuca chuckled
+delightedly; it pleased his whimsicality to think that so apparently
+unsurmountable a difficulty should be solved in so plain and unromantic a
+fashion.
+
+He returned to the window and saw Scott and Miller standing outside
+Scott's cabin; saw Scott go inside and the cabin become dark once more and
+Miller go on down the street, stopping at the last house near the corral.
+Pachuca frowned. Was the fellow going in and going to bed like a
+Christian, or was he going to hang around and keep an eye on the car? This
+last would be extremely awkward. Miller, however, turned in at the house
+and disappeared.
+
+Pachuca spent five minutes at the window watching, but he did not
+reappear. "Ah well, one must risk something!" he mused, and glanced down
+at the sleeping Yellow. Cautiously and with the soft step of one who has
+learned the wisdom of a silent tread, the young man slid down the
+stairway. The door at the foot of the stairs was open; it opened outward
+and they had tied the dog back of it.
+
+Juan Pachuca opened the hunting-knife and surveyed it in a business-like
+fashion. There was a sudden movement of his arm and poor Yellow shivered
+and crumpled up noiselessly. Quietly, the knife still in his hand, Pachuca
+slipped behind the building and continued his way toward the corral. He
+reached the car unhindered and breathed a sigh of relief; the rest would
+be plain sailing. A peep into the tonneau showed him that the plunder had
+been removed; but that, of course, he had expected. He jumped into the car
+and started the engine. At the same moment, a burly figure rushed out of
+the house near by, caught at the car as it started, clung to the
+running-board and, leaning over, seized Pachuca by the arm.
+
+It was Miller; Miller, who had indeed gone to bed, but whose bed was near
+the window of the little cabin, and who had been keeping one eye on the
+car and had emerged, scantily attired in a nightshirt tucked into a pair
+of trousers, to put a spoke in the Mexican's wheel. Pachuca set his teeth!
+It was too much--to be so near liberty and then to lose it. A desperate
+look came into his eyes; he paid no attention to the angry demand of his
+assailant that he stop the car, but, making a sudden lunge, he drove the
+hunting-knife into the shoulder of the big man.
+
+"Damn you, put up that knife!" choked Miller, seeing the blow coming but
+not quickly enough to dodge it. With one hand clutching the car and one
+holding Pachuca, he was too late to reach his gun. By the time he loosed
+his hold on the Mexican, the knife had reached its mark; a knife none too
+sharp, but driven by a practiced hand, it pierced the flesh, and with a
+groan, Miller dropped off the running-board into the road.
+
+Ah, the good car! Pachuca sang with joy as it leaped ahead into the
+darkness. They would be awake in a moment, the lazy Gringos, but what of
+it? He would be out of their reach. He laughed as he flew past the house
+where Polly slept.
+
+"Adieu, pretty American! I kiss your hand--until we meet again!"
+
+Something struck the back of the car with a sharp, tearing sound. Pachuca
+turned with a grin. A light had sprung up in the house into which he had
+seen Scott go. With another chuckle, the young Mexican bent over the wheel
+and whirled down the road toward freedom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE DISCOVERY
+
+
+Marc Scott was slow in falling asleep on the night of Pachuca's escape. He
+was in the habit of rolling over a few times and losing himself; but on
+this particular night he was tormented by half a dozen ugly little
+worries. He was worried about Adams, whose leg had a nasty look to the
+unprofessional eye; he was worried about Pachuca, whose case was going to
+require a good deal of finesse; and he was worried about Polly Street, who
+had to be conveyed to the border, revolution or no revolution.
+
+The most pressing danger on his horizon, Scott did not worry about because
+he did not recognize it. He was like one of those patients in whose system
+a deadly disease has started, but who remains in perfect health to all
+outward appearances. He was in happy ignorance of his feelings for Polly
+Street. He had been in love times enough, he would have told you, to know
+the symptoms; all of which was quite true, but the fact remained that this
+time he did not know them.
+
+Polly Street was so exactly the sort of girl that Marc Scott had not the
+faintest idea of falling in love with, much less marrying, that he would
+have dismissed the possibility with a shrug. He, who valued his freedom
+above everything, to throw it away for exactly the kind of woman who would
+take the greatest pleasure in trampling on it? As for his jealousy of Juan
+Pachuca, which should have opened his eyes, he put it aside easily. He
+didn't like the fellow--never had--and it annoyed him to see a decent girl
+allowing herself to be humbugged by his good looks and oily tongue.
+
+It was a pity, for she was a plucky young thing. She had done well to
+bring back the prisoner and his car; mighty few girls would have had the
+courage to try it. It was foolish, of course, a regular kid
+trick--wouldn't have succeeded once in a dozen times, but nevertheless,
+she had shown pluck. It was at this stage in his reflections that he had
+been disturbed by Yellow's barking and had gone out to investigate. The
+air and the action had changed his circulation and his thought and when he
+went to bed the second time he dropped off easily.
+
+This time he was aroused by the noise of the engine started by Pachuca on
+his escape. At first he hardly realized what it was that had wakened him,
+but as it dawned on his consciousness, he jumped to his feet and rushed to
+the window in time to see the car tear down the road. With a muttered
+exclamation, Scott seized his gun and sent a bullet wildly in the
+direction of the escaping prisoner. Then he drew on his trousers, calling
+to Hard at the same time.
+
+"What's wrong? Another raid?" growled the sleepy Bostonian, who had dozed
+peacefully through Pachuca's first attempt.
+
+"No. The guy's got away," snapped Scott, angrily.
+
+"Well, we didn't particularly need him, did we?" observed Hard, sitting up
+reluctantly.
+
+"We needed his car and needed it bad," said Scott, viciously. He tramped
+out of the room, while Hard reached drowsily for his clothes.
+
+"By George, he must have made it through the window!" he muttered as he
+crossed the street, then as he came upon the body of the dog, thrown aside
+behind the open door, "The dirty butcher!" he growled, furiously. "And I
+didn't have sense enough to search him for a knife!"
+
+Outside, he met O'Grady and Johnson, sketchily dressed and wrathful.
+
+"You heard him, too, did you?" he growled. "He got out by the window. This
+is some of his work," he continued, pointing to Yellow.
+
+"He did not," said O'Grady, promptly. "Did you ever hear of a guy jumping
+out of a second-story winder and shutting it after him?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Sure--it's shut," grinned Johnson. "He come out of the door all right.
+It's wide open, and not hurt, either."
+
+"Who let him out? Where's the key? You had it, O'Grady."
+
+"I did not--you handed it to the girl, yourself. She locked him in all
+right; I heard her do it," replied O'Grady quickly.
+
+"That explains it," said Scott, shortly. "She came over here and let him
+out. Might have expected it, I suppose, with a flighty youngster and a
+smooth talker like Pachuca." He turned away in the direction of the
+house.
+
+"He's mad!" murmured Johnson, admiringly. He liked a little excitement
+himself.
+
+"Mad? He's jealous, the fool!" Matt offered, disgustedly.
+
+"Jealous? Who of? The greaser?"
+
+"Sure. Good-looking, Juan is, and a winner with the dames."
+
+"Scott's one of them woman haters. What d'ye mean--jealous?"
+
+"Woman haters?" Matt spat disdainfully. "There ain't no such thing as a
+woman hater, Tommy, in the whole animal kingdom. Don't you fall for none
+of that stuff. But, believe me, that girl never opened that door. She's a
+straight, honest, smart girl, if she is flighty."
+
+"Well, if she didn't, who did?"
+
+"I don't know. I ain't sleuthed around enough yet to find out. Hullo,
+here's Boston--half asleep, too."
+
+Scott was angry clear through. He did not stop to analyze his emotions--he
+was not of an analytical mind--and he did not care why he was angry. He
+felt that Polly Street, a girl of whom he was beginning to think rather
+highly, had done an unsportsmanlike thing; a thing that Bob's sister ought
+to have been ashamed to do; had disgraced the family, so to speak, and had
+seriously inconvenienced him into the bargain.
+
+Scott had depended on that automobile for various things. He wanted it to
+fetch a doctor for Jimmy, and to take Polly, herself, to the border in
+comfort. Both these important things she had jeopardized because she had
+been coaxed into it by a soft-spoken young man with dark eyes. The
+treasure story he put aside. Even a girl from the East would hardly have
+taken that stuff seriously, he thought.
+
+He would have felt just the same, he reasoned, had the culprit been Bob
+instead of Bob's sister. There was, thank Heaven, nothing soft about him!
+He could see and hear and even enjoy a good-looking girl without making a
+fool of himself. That was the beauty of being on the way to forty--one saw
+things in their right light--and did not make a fool of one's self over
+girls.
+
+"Marc Scott, are we being raided again or what? Did I hear a shot and a
+machine going by or was I dreaming?" demanded Mrs. Van, who, clad in a
+blanket kimono, her feet thrust into moccasins, and a gay-looking pink
+boudoir cap on her head, came to the door before Scott reached it. In her
+rear could be dimly seen another figure, wrapped in a gray blanket.
+
+"You ought to know," said Scott, rudely; focussing his attention on the
+pink cap and ignoring the blanketed figure in the rear.
+
+"What do you mean--I ought to know?" indignantly.
+
+"Somebody has unlocked the office door and let that half-breed get away
+and he's taken his car with him," said Scott. "The key's in your
+house--that's all."
+
+"Of course it's in this house. It's in the pocket of my sweater," answered
+Polly, indignantly. "If you think I let him out----" She was too angry to
+continue.
+
+"Well, he didn't get out by the window because it's shut, and there's no
+chimney for him to melt out of."
+
+"Look here, Marc Scott, ain't you ashamed of yourself? Coming here and
+talking to ladies like that--and in the middle of the night, too." Mrs.
+Van Zandt was as angry as the other two. "That key couldn't get out of
+this house to-night without my knowing it. He's brainy enough to get out
+without help, that fellow."
+
+"He may be brainy, but he's hardly brilliant enough to go through a locked
+door," said Scott, obstinately. "Somebody let him out, that's all. If
+you'll be kind enough to look for the key, Miss Street, and see if it's
+been taken away----"
+
+"How could it be? From my room?" demanded Polly, angrily.
+
+"Are you going to hold an inquest over it?" asked Mrs. Van, cuttingly. "I
+see the jury coming along."
+
+Johnson, O'Grady and Hard were coming across the street. Polly drew her
+blanket closely around her and tucked one bare foot behind the other. Her
+reddish colored braids gave her a squaw-like appearance in the darkness.
+
+"It's all right, Scotty, don't stir up the community," called Hard,
+cheerfully. "I'm the guilty party."
+
+"You!"
+
+"It never dawned on me till I saw the unlocked door," confessed Hard, with
+a chuckle. "The chap must have found that old bunch of keys that's been
+knocking around in the pocket of my old office coat. I'm afraid that's
+where he got the knife that did for poor Yellow, too."
+
+"Do you mean there was a duplicate key?" demanded Scott.
+
+"There must have been. Clever chap to ferret it out," replied Hard,
+breezily.
+
+"Mighty clever. I could open a door myself with a key in my hand,"
+muttered Scott, as he turned away. "Well, he's gone and the car's gone and
+we might as well go back to bed."
+
+"Just one moment." Polly's voice was clear and firm. "I think you owe me
+an apology, Mr. Scott."
+
+There was a suppressed chuckle from the rear where the train gang still
+lingered. Scott stiffened and cleared his throat consciously.
+
+"I apologize," he said; then, as he saw the others disappear down the
+street, "Will you shake hands?"
+
+"Not right now; I'm going to think it over," said the girl, coolly. "I
+think you should have known that I wouldn't do a thing like that."
+
+"Well, I did know it, of course," confessed Scott, helplessly. "But----"
+
+"But you didn't believe it." Polly's voice was cutting. "Well, next time
+have a little more faith in your friends, Mr. Scott," and the blanketed
+figure disappeared into the house.
+
+"She had you there," observed Mrs. Van. "Well, go home to bed before you
+wake up Jimmy--it's a wonder he's slept through this all right."
+
+She went into the house and knocked softly at the girl's door--after
+listening a moment and assuring herself that Adams had not wakened.
+Polly's room was dark and she was standing, still wrapped in the blanket,
+by the window in the moonlight.
+
+"Well?" she said, rather curtly.
+
+"Nothing--only----" Mrs. Van's usually glib tongue faltered. "I was just
+going to say that you mustn't take Marc Scott too--too--I mean, you
+mustn't be too hard on him."
+
+"Hard!"
+
+"Yes. It's just his way; he don't mean to be ugly. He's queer, Scotty is,
+kind of--oh, I don't know how to put it, but he didn't mean to be rude to
+you."
+
+"He was, though, very rude."
+
+"Yes, that's what I mean. It sort of shocked him to think you'd do a thing
+like that and he didn't stop to think."
+
+"Maybe he'll stop to think next time."
+
+"Maybe, but I don't reckon so. Folks like that you can't change much; you
+have to take 'em or leave 'em as they are. He's awful square, though. I'd
+trust him with anything; money, liquor, or women. When you've been around
+as much as I have, you'll know that means something."
+
+In the meantime, Scott, Hard, and the train gang, going down to the corral
+to investigate, found Miller lying as Pachuca had left him, in the middle
+of the road. He was regaining consciousness as they came along, and did
+not seem to be badly hurt, the knife having entered the fleshy part of the
+arm near the shoulder.
+
+"Serves me damn right, bein' so slow with my gun," he said. "I suppose the
+guy got away?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he got away!" muttered Scott, as they helped Miller to bed.
+"That's the kind of luck we're playing in just now around here."
+
+Breakfast next morning was not a particularly cheerful meal. Adams was
+still in bed, and Williams was feverish and cross. Miller seemed little
+the worse for his accident, but he was blue; he had been particularly
+attached to the dog and felt its death more than his own misadventure.
+
+"Blankets, canned goods, saddles--everything they could grab," muttered
+Williams, resentfully. "Nice condition to be in with a revolution
+looming."
+
+"Not looming, loomed," said O'Grady, cheerfully.
+
+"Wish I could get hold of an _Omaha Bee_," murmured Johnson. "I never
+somehow feel like I had a grip on a situation till I've seen my home
+paper."
+
+"I think I'll ride over to Casa Grande this morning and get the doctor,"
+said Hard. "That leg of Jimmy's needs advice."
+
+"I'll go with you." Scott looked at Polly. "Want to go?" he said; then as
+she hesitated, he looked at her penitently, smiling as Scott did not often
+smile, and whispered: "Please do!"
+
+"How mean of him! He knows I'm dying to. How's anybody going to stay mad
+when they want to do things?" said the girl to herself.
+
+"It's too far for her," objected Mrs. Van.
+
+"We'll send the Chink back," said Scott, persuasively, "and we'll stay all
+night with Herrick. We'll make him play for you," he added, as Polly
+smiled in spite of herself. "Will you go?"
+
+"She must," said Hard. "It's her last chance to see the country." And so
+the matter was settled.
+
+"That Chink'll ride the whole twenty miles on a dead run--he'll be here to
+dinner," said Matt. "Ever see a Chinaman ride?"
+
+"He'll ride his own horse, then," replied Scott, as he left the room.
+"Perhaps we'll bring Herrick back with us, Mrs. Van."
+
+"He won't leave that piano of his," prophesied Mrs. Van Zandt. "No more
+than a mother'd leave her baby when there was danger around."
+
+It was ten o'clock when the three riders started on their trip, Scott
+preserving a reasonably cheerful face, in spite of the fact that he hated
+late starts. It was a beautiful morning; the sky, blue and cloudless, the
+air fresh and invigorating with the crispness of early spring, the radiant
+clearness of the atmosphere making neighbors of the mountains, all
+combined to make a tonic which showed signs of going to Polly's head.
+After all, there are few sensations like the starting out upon a horseback
+trip; the mare's springy trot, the freshness of her own healthy body, even
+the feel of the bridle reins brought her joy.
+
+"You look mighty happy," commented Hard. "It must be pleasant to be
+twenty-three."
+
+Polly laughed. "It is," she admitted. "But I'm going to be just as happy
+at forty-three. I've found the recipe."
+
+"Will you sell it to me? My next one happens to be my forty-second. I'll
+be needing it soon."
+
+"I'll make you a present of it. Stay out-of-doors and keep on doing
+things. Of course, I haven't tried it for forty-three years, but I feel in
+my bones that it will work."
+
+"I never could see, myself, how people could spend twenty-two out of their
+twenty-four hours under a roof, the way most of them do," said Scott,
+thoughtfully. "Here, we turn now into the trail."
+
+"That's where Pachuca's men went yesterday," said Polly. "I hope we don't
+meet them."
+
+"No danger of that. Those fly-by-nights are a long way from here by this
+time."
+
+"They told me yesterday in Conejo that Obregon had been put under arrest
+in Mexico City. If that's true it may put a cog in the revolutionary
+machinery," said Hard.
+
+"I wish we'd managed to keep our hands on that automobile," remarked
+Scott, wistfully. "I don't half fancy trying to make the border in a
+wagon, and no one knows how the railroads will be."
+
+The trail debouched from the road, running over ground very slightly
+elevated. There was for some distance no particular reason as far as Polly
+could see for its being a trail at all except that it hadn't been
+sufficiently traveled to make it a road. It was merely a narrow little
+path leading over some very barren-looking country, but leading ever
+upward, gradually but surely, toward the hills.
+
+"You see, the regular road runs fairly straight along toward Conejo for
+maybe twenty miles, and then meets a crossroad which runs past Casa
+Grande," explained Scott. "Now, with this trail, we cut directly across
+those foothills, over a couple of ranges of mountains, across a big mesa
+and down. Casa Grande is almost in a straight line from here and we cut
+off a lot."
+
+"Casa Grande is an awfully fancy sort of name. Is it a wonderful place?"
+
+"Just a good little ranch. These Latins like big sounding names," replied
+Scott. "Casa Grande is very common down here."
+
+A dip in the trail took them into an arroyo and out the other side, where
+they lost sight entirely of Athens. A few moments later, they wound their
+way through some brush into a narrow canyon, walled on one side by hills
+and with a drop of some fifteen feet on the other side into a ravine. Out
+of the ravine grew more brush so densely that it almost crowded the little
+trail out of existence.
+
+Here it was necessary to go single file and Polly noticed how naturally
+Scott took the lead, leaving her to follow and Hard to bring up the rear.
+She noted with some amusement that it seemed characteristic of him to take
+the lead everywhere, just as it seemed quite in keeping with Hard's
+easy-going nature to fall into the rear.
+
+"And yet of the two Mr. Hard has the education and the brains," thought
+the girl. "No, that's not fair. I believe you can have just as good a
+brain without education--only you're hampered in the use of it. Marc Scott
+has what the psychologists call 'initiative.' Oh, look!"
+
+High up in the air a bird had flown out from among the tree-tops on the
+other side of the canyon--a big bird with wide spreading wings.
+
+"It's an eagle."
+
+"An eagle!" Polly was awed.
+
+"There's a nest up there somewhere," said Scott, shading his eyes with his
+hand and peering upward. "Last year I was riding over this trail with
+Gomez, an Indian we had working for us. We were just about here when an
+eagle, a young one, flew out from the trees. Before I could speak, Gomez
+up with his gun and shot it."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I wanted to kill the geezer--but Lord, what can you expect of an
+Indian?"
+
+As they proceeded, Polly found herself riding closer to Scott, while Hard
+lagged behind. She was not displeased. Scott on horseback and in the woods
+was Scott at his best as she was beginning to know.
+
+"I'm wondering," she said, as the mare pushed her nose along the big bay's
+flank, "how you know so much about the country. You aren't a Westerner,
+are you?"
+
+"Me? No, indeed. Born in New York State and raised in Michigan. Never laid
+eyes on anything west of the Mississippi until I came out to Colorado to
+work in the mines. Then I drifted into New Mexico and down here." Scott
+was riding with his knee around the pommel and talking meditatively over
+his shoulder.
+
+"You see, I've got mining in my blood. My grandfather was a Forty-Niner."
+
+"Did he get rich?" asked Polly, interestedly.
+
+"Not so's you'd notice it. Spent all he had and died trying to get home."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Hard luck, wasn't it? My folks went to Detroit when I was a little codger
+and they both died there. I was adopted by an uncle--an uncle who was the
+whitest man God ever made," declared Scott, solemnly.
+
+"Why was he--I mean, how was he?" Polly had by nature that healthy
+capacity for asking questions, which is one of the most flattering
+characteristics that a woman can have or assume.
+
+"He was always doing decent things. Didn't have much money, either, but
+somehow he always made it do for a lot of folks who didn't have any. He
+adopted a girl that wasn't any kin to him, had her educated and then
+married her. She made him a fine wife, too, thought the world of him.
+Well, he adopted me and sent me to school and when he saw I had the roving
+instinct and couldn't stick to the books, he gave me a lift to go West to
+the mines. He knew that there was no use arguing.
+
+"He was queer, too. Didn't like city folks nor their ways. He owned one of
+those big farms out near what's now Grosse Pointe--ran down to the
+river--and when the town began to grow out toward them, instead of holding
+on to his land as it began to get valuable, he'd sell out and go further
+away. Died, leaving Aunt Mary just enough to live comfortably on--might
+have been a millionaire. But Uncle Silas was a wise man.
+
+"Sometimes when I look at these tight-fisted old guys who make their
+millions and tie 'em up into estates to hand down, and then remember Uncle
+Silas--not giving a hoot for money and always pulling along a dozen or two
+poor relations and setting 'em on their feet, living comfortable and
+happy, leaving a wife that's as fond of him to-day as she was the day he
+died--well, I sort of wonder if money and success mean as much as folks
+think they do."
+
+Scott's autobiography was halted by the view which met their eyes as they
+rounded the turn at the top of the canyon. Turning, the narrow trail wound
+its way around the mountainside until one looked down upon the tops of
+foothills, green with scrubby vegetation. Then it stretched in an
+irregular line down the mountainside, to disappear in their midst. Beyond
+lay another range of mountains.
+
+"Back of that range and across the mesa is where Herrick's place is," said
+Scott, as they drew rein and waited for Hard to come along. Polly gazed in
+silence. It was the first view she had had of the wilder part of the
+country and it thrilled her.
+
+Hard came up with them. "Don't you think we'd better make a little speed
+when we hit the level?" he said.
+
+"We've only crossed one stream since we started," observed Polly.
+
+"We cross another just before we get to Herrick's," said Hard, "but it
+never has much water in it except in the rainy season."
+
+"I've seen plenty in it then," said Scott, laughing. "I was caught on the
+wrong side once when they'd had a cloudburst in the mountains. Oh boy, you
+should have seen her come down! Swept away a wagon with two horses and the
+Mexican who was driving it in just two minutes."
+
+"Oh, how could it--in two minutes?"
+
+"Well, it could and did. Before that there wasn't a foot of water in the
+river bed. When the water came thundering down there was eight or ten.
+Picked up trees, bushes, chicken coops, greasers--anything in its way, and
+whirled 'em down the canyon."
+
+It was the middle of the afternoon when they crossed the second range,
+which they did by means of a trail which went through a gap, thus cutting
+off the worst of the ascent. Once through the gap, they came out upon a
+huge mesa from which they looked down upon the valley in which Casa Grande
+was located. On the mesa, the tired horses broke into the little
+easy-going jog which mountain ponies love.
+
+Scott watched Polly's sparkling eyes with real gratification. He had
+chosen to go by trail rather than by road very largely that she might have
+this experience. He wanted her to see more of the country before she went
+back to the city and its ways.
+
+"She's a natural out-of-doors woman, and she's never had the chance to
+find it out," he mused. "Better than a golf course?" he asked, as they
+trotted across the broad mesa.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, reproachfully. "It's like the happy hunting grounds! I
+never understood before why the Indians called their Heaven that. It was
+because they were thinking of space and openness and freedom. I think it
+beats our kind of Heaven all hollow," finished the cheerful product of
+1920.
+
+Finally they came out on the other side of the little river bed, which lay
+below the mesa and was entered by means of a rocky staircase, crossed a
+round-topped hill, and there, in a flat little valley surrounded by hills,
+the rear view of the Casa Grande ranch-house became visible. Two or three
+smaller buildings stood near it and a fence marked the corral.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CASA GRANDE
+
+
+There was a great stillness about the place; the whole panorama suggested
+a picture rather than an actuality, except for the white clouds sailing
+slowly about in the blue sky, and an occasional bird flying from one tree
+or bush to another.
+
+"I don't like things being so still," said Scott. "Let's push on." Riding
+around to the front of the house--a long, narrow, adobe building, they
+came upon the first real sign of habitation; a brown hen, who, accompanied
+by her family, was scratching around the walk with an immense show of
+industry; while on the veranda sat two men. One was a white man; the
+other, a Chinese, dressed in the dark blue shirt and trousers of his
+people. As the newcomers dismounted, the white man came forward.
+
+"Humph, it's you!" he remarked, with evident relief. "Well, here is what
+is left of a once prosperous household."
+
+He was a little man, thin and wiry, with bushy brown hair and beard, and
+keen dark eyes. His hands, slender and with long white fingers, played
+nervously with a quirt which he held, apparently for no purpose than that
+those nervous members might have occupation.
+
+"What's happened?" demanded Scott. "How do, Li Yow?" as the Chinaman came
+forward smilingly to take the horses.
+
+"All gone," he said, blandly. "Laided. One hen, some shickens--notting
+else left."
+
+"Raided! Did that young rascal----" began Hard, when Herrick interrupted
+impatiently.
+
+"Oh, he has been to you, too? He makes a clean sweep of it! He comes here
+at noon with a score, perhaps, of men; and if there is anything they do
+not take, it is because it is broken--like my wagon. Men, money, and
+stock--our neighbor is thorough and no mistake!"
+
+"I was afraid of it," said Scott. "He's cleaning up the community.
+Herrick, I want you to know Bob Street's sister, Miss Polly Street." He
+added a few words of explanation of the girl's presence. Herrick surveyed
+her with interest.
+
+"You are unlucky to strike this country at such a time," he said. "Unless
+you like experiences?"
+
+"I do," said Polly, promptly. "That's why they're sending me home."
+
+The little man smiled. "After all, most experience is worth while," he
+said. "Sit down and rest--you will stay, all of you, won't you? For the
+night? There is some food left."
+
+Scott and Li Yow walked away with the horses to the barn which stood not a
+great way from the house, surrounded by a good-sized corral. Polly sank
+into an easy chair which commanded through a window a view of a part of
+the living-room. She caught a glimpse of a grand piano, bright colored
+rugs, bookcases overflowing with books, and other evidences of comfort.
+Hard gave their host an account of the Athens hold-up, not forgetting the
+part Polly had played in it.
+
+"I remembered," he said, "that Li was a doctor, and thought perhaps you'd
+loan him to us for Jimmy. We don't think much of the Conejo medico."
+
+"Himmel, no!" responded Herrick, quickly. "You shall have Li, of course."
+
+Polly leaned back with a little sigh of content. Herrick smiled.
+
+"You are tired," he said, "and by and by you will be chilly. Henry, as Li
+is busy, suppose you build up a fire in the living-room?"
+
+Polly looked a bit surprised, but Hard laughed as he went into the house.
+
+"Herrick never does any rough work," he said, indulgently. "He has to take
+care of his hands."
+
+"So!" replied their host, "my fingers are my good friends, consequently I
+take good care of them. Why not? Some day I may need their services
+again."
+
+"I hope so," said Polly, frankly. "I think it's rather dreadful for an
+artist to bury himself in a place like this."
+
+"One does not bury oneself, my child, one rests and creates," said the
+musician, gently. "Ah, here is Scott! He has been looking at my wagon."
+
+Scott tossed Polly her long cloak which she had left on her saddle.
+
+"Yes, I took a look at the wagon, while Li turned the horses out," he
+said. "I think I can patch it up so that we can drive to Athens in it. You
+see, Herrick, we've only got three horses and I have to send Li back on
+one of them to-night."
+
+"Can he make it--the horse?"
+
+"With a little rest and a feed--if Li takes it easy. Of course, it's not
+the way I like to treat my horses, but Jimmy's leg is in a bad state."
+
+"Very well. You may have Li and also the wagon," replied Herrick. "The
+more willingly because I have a favor to ask of you."
+
+"Of course. What is it?"
+
+"I have a guest," said the other, slowly. "A lady, from the South. She has
+had to leave her plantation and is on her way back to the United States. I
+had intended taking her to the border, but since you are sending this
+young lady----" He stopped, and Polly thought she saw a look of
+understanding pass between them.
+
+"We'll see her through, of course," said Scott, readily. "Can she be ready
+to go in the morning?"
+
+"I should think so," replied the little man; "we will ask her." To Polly's
+disappointment, the talk passed on to the revolution and other political
+subjects, and nothing more was said about the mysterious guest. "If
+they're going to tack a Mexican refugee to me, they might at least tell me
+something about her!" she thought.
+
+In the meantime, Hard had entered the living-room and was examining the
+contents of the wood-box.
+
+"Empty, of course!" he said, with a smile. "The household is quite
+evidently off its balance." He went out through the kitchen and returned
+in a few minutes with a basket of logs from the wood-pile. As he
+re-entered the living-room, a woman--a tall, slender, graceful woman, with
+black hair and eyes, entered it from the hall. There was a moment's
+silence and then the basket of wood dropped crashingly from Hard's arms.
+The woman smiled.
+
+"Henry!" she exclaimed, coming forward, both hands outstretched. "Henry! I
+heard your voice--I'd have known it anywhere, even if Victor hadn't told
+me that you lived near here. You haven't changed one bit in--how many
+years is it since I saw you?"
+
+"Fifteen years, six months, and twenty-seven days, Clara," replied the
+tall Bostonian, taking her hands and leading her to the light. Something
+in her easy, friendly manner had softened both the shock of the surprise
+and the embarrassment of the situation. He looked long into her face and
+then dropped her hands. She sank into a chair by the fireplace.
+
+"It is a long time, isn't it?" she said, smiling.
+
+"No one would think so to look at you," said Hard, sincerely. "You are the
+same Clara Mallory who went to Paris fifteen years ago to study music." He
+picked up the basket of wood and proceeded to build the fire. She watched
+him, her eyes misty.
+
+"Well, it's odd that I haven't changed for I've been through a lot," she
+said, with a little smile. "And you?"
+
+"Just the same easy-going, good-for-nothing chap, I reckon," replied
+Hard.
+
+"But this mining business? But, of course, you were educated for it at the
+Tech----"
+
+"Yes, without much idea of using it."
+
+"But, being a Hard, you weren't contented with doing nothing," said Mrs.
+Conrad. "You know why I'm here, I suppose?"
+
+"No. Herrick told me some time ago that you were living down near Mexico
+City--and that Dick Conrad had died, and how."
+
+Mrs. Conrad was silent for a moment. "Two years ago," she said, quietly.
+"While he lived, we managed to hold down the plantation fairly well. He
+got on well with the government, and he organized the peons and fought off
+the bandits. Since then, things have gone rather badly; it takes a man to
+handle that kind of a situation. I've been raided six times in two years
+and my patience is almost gone.
+
+"I wrote up here to Victor; he's always been a good friend of mine--I
+studied with him in London, you know, and knew his wife well. He advised
+me to sell and go home. I didn't take his advice about selling; I couldn't
+get anything decent for the place right now, and I've a fairly good man
+running it for me. I have faith in this country and I intend to come back
+some day and go on with my plantation."
+
+"You always were plucky, Clara." Hard touched a match to his fire. "But
+Mexico's no place for you. Where are you going?"
+
+"I don't know," admitted Clara, frankly. "Back to the States, of course,
+but where and for what I don't know. But I hope--my music."
+
+"Your music?"
+
+"Victor says it's not too late--but--well, perhaps. I'm out of the way of
+cities, and I've enough so that I don't have to do anything, but--oh, I
+would love to be at it again!"
+
+Hard smiled. "You will, Clara. You're not an idler--as I am. You'll be in
+the thick of it in no time."
+
+"Ah, you have found one another! I thought perhaps you would." Herrick's
+voice broke in upon their talk. He was followed by Polly and Scott, and
+introductions and explanations came naturally.
+
+"It's not a Mexican refugee, and it is the lady of the photograph!" Polly
+said to herself, triumphantly. "But it doesn't look to me much like a love
+affair. They've got over it evidently."
+
+"So you also were raided by Juan Pachuca?" said Mrs. Conrad, as Scott
+seated himself beside her. The latter nodded.
+
+"I happened to hear him talking to one of my men," said Herrick, "and
+telling him that he had a rendezvous with Angel Gonzales, somewhere in the
+vicinity--not too near, I hope. I don't want Angel Gonzales on my place;
+I'd rather entertain the devil."
+
+"What a queer name--Angel! Who is he?" asked Polly, curiously. She was
+beginning to realize, since she had gotten off her horse and relaxed into
+the comfort of an easy chair near the fire, how very tired she was.
+
+"A young ruffian with a price on his head," replied Herrick. "He's half
+Indian and half Mexican and they tell me that both halves are very bad
+indeed."
+
+"If Gonzales--by the way, Miss Polly, don't mix him up with Pablo Gonzales
+who is a general of note and one of the candidates for the next
+presidency----" said Hard, laughing. "If Gonzales is trying to get in with
+the new party, he must have inside information that the revolution is
+going to be a success."
+
+"Well, its first work had better be to line Angel and a few more of his
+kind up against a wall and settle 'em with a firing squad," said Scott.
+
+"That's what I think," declared Mrs. Conrad. "I don't put much faith in
+this regiment business. I think Pachuca has simply gone back to first
+principles and run amuck."
+
+"I don't believe----" Polly stopped, consciously.
+
+"Miss Polly thinks he's a gentleman and that ends it," said Scott, drily.
+
+"She's young, and the wretch has a way with him. I liked him myself when I
+was young and frivolous," said Mrs. Conrad, cheerfully. "I've entertained
+him many a time in Mexico City. Suppose you go into my room, my dear, and
+have a nice rest and clean up while I go and help Li rustle us a dinner
+out of the remnants?" she continued, taking the girl by the hand.
+
+"If Angel Gonzales is playing around this neighborhood, the sooner we get
+away the better," said Scott to Hard as the three men were left together.
+"Come and cast your weather eye over the wagon. For a quiet part of the
+country, we seem to have struck a bad gait."
+
+It was nearly eight o'clock when they sat down to their dinner; a dinner
+contrived with Oriental thrift from materials scorned by the marauders.
+
+"Give a Chinaman a handful of rice and a few vegetables and he'll make you
+a feast, so my husband used to say," remarked Mrs. Conrad. "You simply
+can't starve them."
+
+"Li wants to start right after dinner," said Scott.
+
+"And ride all night?" asked Herrick.
+
+"He says so. He says he knows the trail, and, of course, he's got the
+moon."
+
+A little later, as they sat around the fire, they heard the sound of his
+horse's feet on the stones and knew that the Chinaman had started.
+
+Polly began to feel the charm of the quaint room, with its dim lighting,
+the low fire, the fantastic patterns of rug and basket showing faintly,
+and through the windows the mountains and the stars. As the conversation
+began to yield to the quiet of the place, Herrick went to the piano and
+played softly. It had never fallen to the lot of the girl to hear such
+music; the revelation of a man's soul, poured out through an absolute
+mastery of the art. The little man, with the brown beard and the long
+nervous hands, sat hunched up in his low chair, knees crossed, eyes half
+closed, drawing from the keyboard the chords which carried to each one the
+message of his own heart.
+
+Presently, Clara Conrad rose, and, standing back of the piano, leaning
+over it, her hands clasped, began to sing--softly and easily--her voice, a
+rich contralto, blending with Herrick's small but exquisite baritone, in
+an old song. Polly looked at Hard, seated in a dim corner, his chin
+resting on his hand, his eyes fixed on the two at the piano. She wondered
+what he was thinking and what the woman meant to him. There was something
+almost too intimate about the whole scene and she was glad when Scott rose
+and went toward the door, speaking to her as he passed her.
+
+"Want to see a pretty sight?" he said. She nodded and followed him out.
+For miles in front of them stretched the hilly country, dotted here and
+there in the half light by clumps of trees and bushes showing inky black
+in the night, while in the distance stretched the mountains, irregular,
+dark, and mysterious looking. Over all shone the moon, while the
+stars--but who can describe the stars in a desert country?
+
+"Makes you feel like you'd never seen stars before, doesn't it?" asked
+Scott, as the girl stood, drinking in the scene.
+
+"Doesn't it? So many, so bright and so twinkly! Do you know, I don't
+wonder that Mrs. Conrad's rather a wonderful woman--living all the time
+with this."
+
+"Well, she is, rather. She's had a hard life, too; lots of trouble."
+
+"Wasn't her husband--I mean, weren't they happy together?" asked the
+girl.
+
+"Why, yes, I guess they were," replied Scott, cautiously. "I reckon they
+were like most married folks, rubbed along together pretty well."
+
+"But you said she'd had lots of trouble."
+
+Scott smiled. "And you made up your mind right off that it was a love
+affair, eh? You're a good deal of a kid, aren't you?"
+
+Polly flushed. "I think you're rather inconsiderate," she said, crossly.
+"You start up my curiosity and then you make fun of me. I don't think I
+like the way you treat me, most of the time."
+
+"I don't think it's fair, myself," said Scott, penitently. "I suppose a
+girl brought up as you've been oughtn't to be blamed for seeing a love
+affair behind every bush."
+
+"Why do you say brought up as I've been?"
+
+"I mean having everything easy; everything done for you. No real hard
+knocks in life."
+
+"Oh, well, if that's all, I'll probably have hard knocks enough before I
+get through. Most people do, I've noticed," replied Polly, easily. "I'll
+probably marry somebody who'll spend all his money and leave me eight
+children to support, or else I'll die a rheumaticky old maid. Will that
+satisfy you?"
+
+"Don't talk that way," said Scott, sharply. "It's unlucky."
+
+"Unlucky? Are you superstitious?"
+
+"No, but I've noticed that people who are always expecting bad luck
+usually get it. I'd hate to have you----" he stopped, and Polly caught a
+look in his eyes that startled her.
+
+"Die a rheumaticky old maid?" she said, nervously. "Well, I don't want to,
+either, but it seems to me that the number of people who get out of this
+world without a lot of trouble of some kind or other is a pretty small
+one, so you needn't begrudge me a few years of easy going. What was Mrs.
+Conrad's trouble?"
+
+"She's had a good deal of it first and last, but I was thinking of her
+husband's death, two years ago."
+
+"Did you know her then?"
+
+"Me? No, indeed, I never met her before to-night, but Hard told me, and so
+did Herrick. I don't reckon Hard would mind my telling you her story, now
+you've met her. You see, he and she were young folks together in Boston. I
+guess they sort of played at being in love with each other, like young
+folks do. Then her father died, and left her with hardly anything, and
+that woke 'em up. It made things look more serious.
+
+"Hard wanted to marry her, but she wouldn't. She had a voice and she
+wanted a career; so she went to Europe. That's where she met Herrick and
+took lessons of him. Then, suddenly, instead of going on the stage, she
+married one of those floating Englishmen. Met him in Paris, married him,
+and came over here with him."
+
+"Didn't she care for Mr. Hard?"
+
+"Well, it's pretty hard sometimes to know who a woman does care for," said
+Scott, candidly. "But if she did, she must have got over it. Or maybe she
+got tired of the singing business and took Conrad in a fit of the blues.
+I've known 'em to do that."
+
+"Men, I suppose, never marry for reasons of that sort!"
+
+"Men? Lord, yes, men'll do anything--most of 'em," grinned Scott,
+cheerfully. "We're a rum lot. Anyhow, Mrs. Conrad married her Englishman
+and came over to the coffee plantation with him. I guess they had some
+trouble like everybody else has had these last few years, but they managed
+to weather it. Then, about two years ago, they went on a hunting trip, up
+in the mountains, just the two of them and a Mexican boy. While they were
+there, Conrad shot himself while he was cleaning his gun."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"It was hopeless from the first and she knew it, but she stayed alone with
+him and sent the boy back to the ranch for a doctor. He died while they
+were there alone."
+
+Polly's eyes had tears in them. She was staring wistfully at the
+mountains. "I'm trying to think what it would mean--being up there, alone,
+with someone you loved who was dying," she said at last. "No wonder little
+things don't bother a woman who's been through a thing like that."
+
+"Yes, it's those things that make character, I guess," said Scott,
+thoughtfully. "Or break it."
+
+"Hasn't Mr. Hard ever been down there to see her?"
+
+"No, there's a proud streak in Hard--or maybe he's got over his feeling
+for her. He never would let her know he was in the country. I rather guess
+Herrick planned this."
+
+"I wonder? Oh, what is it? What do you see?" she cried, as she noticed
+that Scott's attention was no longer on her, but was fastened upon the
+dark foothills which rose between them and the mountains.
+
+"I don't know; wish I had my glasses! Looks to me like fellows riding--do
+you see 'em? Over there, coming through that darkish spot between the
+foothills? Wonder if we're in for another row?"
+
+"No--yes, it is! Coming this way!"
+
+"Go in and tell them to put out the lights and stop that noise quick!"
+Scott's voice was hard and sharp. Polly darted into the house. Scott
+strained his eyes to watch the party of riders racking recklessly down the
+dark roadway from the hills. "It can't be Pachuca!" he muttered. "He
+wouldn't come back. It must be that damned young Angel. Well, I guess
+we're in for trouble before daybreak."
+
+"What is it?" Hard was at his elbow. Scott turned and saw that the house
+was dark.
+
+"It's a bunch on horseback--see, over yonder? They're making good time;
+they'll be on us in half a minute. Where's Herrick?"
+
+"Getting the rifles. Where are the horses?"
+
+"In the pasture, up by the river. They'll not find them in a hurry."
+
+"Hadn't we better have the women go up there, too?" said Hard, anxiously.
+
+"I don't believe so. If they're bound for us, there's no time. I
+think----"
+
+"Mr. Scott," Clara Conrad's voice came softly from the dark doorway, "if
+that's Angel Gonzales why can't we all go----"
+
+"I don't know who it is, and the moon's too strong out there--they'd spot
+you in a minute."
+
+"But we can't sit here and do nothing!"
+
+"You can do as you please." Scott's voice was ugly with the ugliness of
+strained nerves. "I say stick to shelter while you've got it." He drew his
+revolver as he spoke and examined it.
+
+"They're coming fast." Hard's voice was tense. Herrick carrying three
+rifles came out.
+
+"Get inside--everybody!" ordered Scott. The party had turned in from the
+road and were dashing toward them. Mrs. Conrad and Polly were already in
+the house. The men followed. "They ride like Indians, Hard; I believe it's
+Yaquis on the warpath!" He and Hard stationed themselves at the open
+windows in the darkness. "I'm for waiting till they attack us; what do you
+think?"
+
+"Yes. Let them make the first move."
+
+The intruders were at the gate. Now they swept in, a couple of score of
+them. They whirled and made for the barn.
+
+"They're Indians, all right," whispered Scott. "They're after the
+horses."
+
+The silence was complete for a few seconds, the women obediently crouching
+in the darkest corner scarcely seeming to breathe, Scott and Hard, hidden
+behind the light curtains, keeping their eyes fixed upon the swiftly
+moving figures outside, Herrick standing just within the doorway.
+Suddenly, cries broke the stillness. Two of the Yaquis who had entered the
+barn came out with the news. The yells were of rage.
+
+"No horses!" grinned Scott. "Their feelings are hurt. Here's where the
+play begins."
+
+"They're firing the barn," said Hard, grimly.
+
+They were. It blazed like a child's bonfire and the shouts and curses of
+the disappointed Yaquis rose with the flames.
+
+In another moment the Indians had ridden toward the house. Polly, who in
+spite of orders, had crept toward the window saw them in amazement.
+Between the moon and the light of the blazing barn, they were distinctly
+visible.
+
+"But they can't be Indians!" she exclaimed, at Scott's elbow. "They're
+just like our Mexicans!"
+
+"Did you expect them to wear scalp locks? Get out of range, quick! Hard,
+cover the second chap, there. I'm going to give the first boy a shock.
+They'll be in here in half a minute if I don't."
+
+His shot rang out and the bullet flew over the Indian's head. It was close
+enough to make him pull his horse to its haunches while those behind him
+did the same.
+
+"While I'm talking to him, you women slide out the back door," muttered
+Scott, hurriedly. "Make for the stream and the horses while they're
+watching us. Hello, out there, what do you want?" he said in Spanish.
+
+Mrs. Conrad gripped Polly's arm. "Come!" she said.
+
+"We can't!" demurred the girl. "We can't leave them like this."
+
+"Come!" repeated Clara, angrily. "Do you want to fall into their hands?"
+Polly, too frightened by her tone to resist, crept softly behind her. They
+heard the Indian at whom Scott had fired answer. To Polly it meant
+nothing, but Clara's ears, accustomed to the tongue, caught an angry
+demand for horses, food and money.
+
+"We haven't any of those things. We've just been raided--cleaned
+out--we're as poor as you are," was Scott's reply. The Indians conferred
+together. "It's a question of whether they think we're lying or not," said
+Scott, drily.
+
+"Exactly. And they have unfortunately every reason to believe that a white
+man usually is," replied Hard. "What's the play if they come at us?"
+
+"Shoot as many as we can," said Scott. "They'll do the rest. That's why I
+sent the women off."
+
+"I thought so. Well, here goes. I ought to be able to get a couple before
+I cash in though I'm not considered very dangerous with firearms," replied
+Hard, calmly, though his heart was registering something approaching acute
+blood pressure.
+
+From the leader came in angry Spanish: "We don't believe you! We'll come
+and get it."
+
+"Come on!" yelled Herrick. Instantly, a dozen Yaquis were off their horses
+and running toward the house, shooting as they came. As instantly, two of
+the leaders fell in the path of the others.
+
+"Good boy, Herrick!" cried Scott. "Let 'em have it again!" he yelled, as
+the Indians, halted for a moment by the fall of their men, came on again.
+The shots rang out again but this time no one fell. Hard felt something
+sing by him in the darkness and thanked God that the women were not there.
+Herrick rushed over for more cartridges.
+
+"They're coming!" he shouted, excitedly.
+
+"Let 'em come. Some of 'em are coming to something they won't like,"
+growled Scott. "Look out--in the doorway!"
+
+Two Indians had burst their way into the house, but disconcerted by its
+utter darkness after the moonlight outside, paused a moment to get their
+bearings. Scott, Hard and Herrick shot with one accord. One Indian came
+on; the other uttered a cry of pain; then both dashed outside for the
+shelter of the veranda. There was silence; the Indians hesitating in doubt
+as to their companions' fate, the white men uncertain as to what form the
+attack would take next.
+
+"Are the women gone?" Herrick called softly.
+
+"Yes," replied Hard. "Are you all right?"
+
+"So. They whistle through my hair but they do not touch me," replied the
+musician, cheerfully.
+
+"Here they come!" cried Scott, impatiently. "Watch your shots!"
+
+The Indians were coming, and coming in a body.
+
+"Gosh, it's going to be all day with us in half a minute!" gasped Scott.
+"Let 'em have it as hard as you can, boys. We may be able to hold 'em long
+enough to give the women a chance to get the horses."
+
+Hard clenched his teeth and bent his eye on his rifle. In another moment
+the invaders would be upon them--when, sharp and decisive came the sound
+of shots; shots from among the foothills, followed by yells. There was a
+cry from the Indian who led the rush; a wavering of the line; and a stop.
+They broke into loud talk. In the meantime, the shots and yells continued.
+They seemed to come from two directions.
+
+"There's another crowd back in the hills. They've got another fight on
+their hands," muttered Scott, listening. "It's a flank attack and these
+fellows don't like it."
+
+"If it is----"
+
+"It is. Hear that!"
+
+There were more yells; the Yaquis outside flung themselves into their
+saddles and in another moment the two wounded men lying near the windows
+were all that remained of the attack.
+
+"By golly, I've heard of luck before, but this is a case of the pure and
+unadulterated article," said Scott, awed.
+
+Hard did not reply. He was taking a deep breath--the first in several
+minutes. Herrick whistled cheerfully.
+
+"Unless it's Angel Gonzales," continued Scott, pensively. "In that case
+it's a question of 'Go it, old woman; go it, b'ar.'"
+
+"Let's go after the horses and the women," said Hard. "The quicker we hit
+the trail for home the better my circulation's going to be. I think the
+Hards must have deteriorated considerably since the battle of Lexington.
+I'm getting to be a regular old woman."
+
+Scott laughed. "You're a pretty good pal in a fight, old man," he said,
+simply. "I think you winged one of those birds outside. Shall we go and
+have a look?"
+
+"Not I," replied Hard, decidedly. "It's unpleasant enough to me to kill a
+man without pawing him over afterward."
+
+Scott went outside and looked over the victims of the fight.
+
+"Dead, both of them," he said, briefly. "Come on, let's get out of this
+before their friends come back." And to the sounds of yells and shots in
+the distance they made their way toward the stream.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A NIGHT RIDE
+
+
+When Li Yow clattered up the trail leading out of the river bed and up the
+mesa, he was a happy man, in spite of the fact that a horse was to him the
+last means of locomotion that he would have chosen for an all night trip,
+with the possible exception of a camel or an elephant. Except as objects
+for his scientific skill, horses were not dear to his heart. A wagon, a
+train, an automobile, these were sensible conveyances for an intellectual
+man of an old and distinguished family going about his business, but a
+horse, never!
+
+Not that Li would have admitted that his family was old. Distinguished,
+perhaps, but scarcely old when it only counted its ancestry through some
+eight or nine hundred years. In China that is to be classed among the
+blatantly new. He was happy, however, because he was being given a chance
+to use his skill for that great purpose for which it had been acquired,
+the alleviation of pain.
+
+Li was a student, and for five years he had had very little opportunity
+for the work that he loved. With the patience of the Oriental, he had
+toiled at an inferior art; now opportunity had come, and so eager was he
+to grasp it, that a twenty-mile ride on an uncongenial animal, in the
+night, did not deter him. Not that he was afraid of the dark as we like to
+think the Chinese are. Li Yow had a philosophy, old when the Christian
+philosophy was born, which amply sufficed to relieve his mind of any
+superstitious terrors. Mexicans on the rampage, and Yaquis on the warpath,
+did not, however, come under the category of superstitious fears, and he
+heartily hoped he might accomplish his journey without meeting either of
+them.
+
+He rode Scott's big roan, Cochise, a common-sense animal which could be
+trusted to the tender mercies of what its master called "a crazy Chink."
+This excellent beast understood thoroughly the art of saving his strength,
+and curbing any foolish enthusiasm on the part of a rider to race up-hill
+or to exhaust one's wind too early in the game.
+
+"Spirit and a bit of deviltry are all right in a horse or a woman, I'll
+grant you," Scott used to say when anyone derided the roan. "But the horse
+or the woman who lives with me has got to have common sense."
+
+So Li Yow and Cochise trotted placidly along the mesa, one thinking of the
+joys of surgery, and the other of the pleasure of feeding in one's own
+corral. They had been out a couple of hours perhaps, and Li, moved by the
+beauty of the night, quoted a fragment of eighth century poetry and turned
+in his saddle to see how far he had come--when, suddenly, he gave an
+exclamation of horror!
+
+Back of him, across the river bed, back of the round-topped hill, from
+exactly the spot where Casa Grande stood, he saw the tops of flames
+shooting up against the sky line! Something was being burned. Something
+sizable, or its flames would not rise so high. It must be either Casa
+Grande, its barn, or both. Li's heart stood still. He stopped Cochise in
+sympathy with that important organ. What to do? At Casa Grande was a
+friend to whom he was attached. Things of a most unpleasant nature might
+be happening to him--could he ride away and leave him?
+
+On the other hand, what could he do--a lone Chinese, unarmed except for a
+formidable surgical apparatus? After all, they had two horses and perhaps
+they had seen the brigands coming and had escaped. Still, if he went back
+they would have three horses. The women could ride and the men could ride
+and tie. Li groaned in spirit. He hated walking more than he hated
+riding.
+
+Obviously his duty was to go back and offer his help such as it was. If
+they were fighting, it would not be worth much, unless he could persuade a
+Mexican or two to stand still while he stabbed them with a lancet. With a
+sigh, Li turned Cochise in the direction of Casa Grande and applied an
+encouraging dig of the heel.
+
+Cochise, however, saw things differently. He had started for Athens.
+Athens was home and a good place at that. He saw no reason for going back
+just to please an ignoramus who didn't know how to ride and who would
+probably change his mind again before they had gone a mile. Consequently,
+when Li kicked, Cochise threw his head in the air and made crab-like
+motions with his legs. Li pulled and Cochise reared. Li, mindful of past
+instructions, loosed the reins and Cochise whirled. Li leaned over and
+patted the horse's neck and Cochise bucked.
+
+It was a nice exhibition of obstinacy on the part of both man and beast,
+and no one there but the moon to witness it. The buck, however, did the
+business. A bump and a rattle reminded Li Yow of his precious medical
+chest--absolutely unreplaceable--and with a frightened:
+
+"Whoa, thou son of evil, thou animal of ill omen!" he gave in; and
+Cochise, secure in his victory, settled down to a trot again. "Ah, well, a
+sensible man spends no time in weeping over the inevitable," meditated Li.
+"What is to be, will be. The young man with the injured leg is the gainer
+by thy obstinacy, oh, vile beast!"
+
+At daybreak a tired man and a stiff horse arrived at Athens. Mrs. Van
+Zandt saw them because she was up attending to Adams who was suffering.
+She hailed the Chinaman from her doorway, bathrobed and boudoir capped as
+she was.
+
+"Is that you, Marc Scott?" she called anxiously, as she recognized
+Cochise.
+
+"No, lady," replied Li, in his professional manner. "This not Mr. Scott,
+this Li Yow from Casa Grande. I come see sick boy," and he rolled off the
+horse.
+
+"Well, that's good, he needs you! Leave the horse and come in." Li
+complied and Cochise, released, started wearily for the corral. "See
+here," Mrs. Van Zandt led the way to the bedroom, "I guess you're pretty
+well used up, ain't you? I'm going to get you something to eat in a
+minute. Did you have a hard ride?" She had got a light and looked at him
+curiously. Li Yow did look very much used up.
+
+"I hurry a great lot," he said, simply. "I want go back but the horse he
+want come on."
+
+"What did you want to go back for?"
+
+"Fire. I see big fire at Casa Grande," replied the Chinaman, gravely. "I
+much afraid the bandits burn the house."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt pulled him suddenly from the bedroom door.
+
+"Good land, man, don't let the boy hear you! He's half out of his head
+now. What do you mean? Has Casa Grande been raided?"
+
+Li nodded.
+
+"By Pachuca?"
+
+"Yes. He come morning, take everything--horses, chow, money, everything!
+Then Mr. Scott's folks they come in afternoon. Only thlee horse for
+everybody. Mr. Scott say he mend wagon and they come over to-morrow. I
+come to-night to see sick boy. When I get up on mesa I see fire--don't
+know who make him but mebbe bandits."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt turned pale. Clutching her bathrobe tightly she made for
+the door. "Look here," she called, over her shoulder, "you look after the
+boy and mind you don't spill any of that news before him. I'll get you
+some breakfast and see what's to be done."
+
+Then she came back. "They were all right when you left them? The young
+lady, too?" she queried, anxiously.
+
+"Yes, they all light. Both them ladies all light."
+
+"Both! Who's the other?" demanded Mrs. Van Zandt, instantly.
+
+"Mr. Hellick got flend--Mrs. Conlad," said Li, wearily. "She come day
+before yest'day--from Mexico City. Mr. Hard's flend, too."
+
+"Good Heavens, now what do you suppose the heathen means by that?" gasped
+the astonished woman. "Come here," she added, sternly, and seizing the
+Chinaman by the sleeve of his blouse, she led him into the room occupied
+by Polly. Dramatically, she pointed to the photograph on the wall. "Is
+that the woman you're talking about?"
+
+Li examined the face gravely and nodded. "Yes," he said, "only younger
+here."
+
+Mrs. Van released him suddenly. "All right, go on in and see the boy," she
+said, and hurried down the street. "Fire and bandits--and I let that poor
+girl go over there with those men!" she gasped. "And what on earth is that
+woman doing at Casa Grande? It's either a scandal or a romance, that's a
+cinch!"
+
+"What's the matter? Whose horse was that? Great snakes, Mrs. Van, what the
+devil----" Johnson, hastily and scantily attired, came down the street,
+followed by the others. Cochise had waked up the camp. Mrs. Van looked at
+them tragically.
+
+"It's the Casa Grande Chinaman come over to see Jimmy. He rode Cochise,"
+she sobbed.
+
+"What'd he ride Cochise for? What's come over Marc Scott, lendin' Cochise
+to a Chink?"
+
+"Tom, something awful has happened," and she burst into the story.
+
+"Didn't the heathen go back to help?"
+
+"I guess he tried to, but Cochise got scared and wouldn't go. What do you
+suppose it is ?"
+
+"Gosh, I dunno! Don't sound like Pachuca; he wouldn't come back a second
+time. Sure looks bad."
+
+"And the feller says Mrs. Conrad's there. What's he mean by that, do you
+think?"
+
+"Who's she?"
+
+"Mr. Hard's friend; the widow woman that lives down South. Upon my word,
+Tom Johnson, I do believe that's the woman and the trouble that the ouija
+meant and I thought all the time it was talking about Polly Street!"
+
+"Dunno, I'm sure. Where's Cochise?"
+
+"Gone down to the corral."
+
+"Guess I'd better go down and give him the once over. They've probably
+rode him to death between 'em. Gosh, I'm sorry to hear that news!" and Tom
+strode off, sadly, followed by the others. "Poor old chap," he murmured, a
+few minutes later, as he took the saddle off Cochise. "Can't do nothin'
+for your boss, so I'll do what I can for you. Pretty well petered out,
+ain't you?"
+
+"Say, Tom, what are we going to do about this Casa Grande business,
+anyhow?" demanded O'Grady.
+
+"Well, with a dynamited track, a busted auto, a smashed 'phone connection
+and a foundered horse, what would you suggest doing?" demanded Johnson,
+pessimistically. "Walkin' ain't so durned good in this country."
+
+"If we could get to Conejo we could get Mendoza to drive us over to Casa
+Grande," hazarded Williams.
+
+"Well, that ain't a bad idea for you, Jack," said Tom, patronizingly. "I
+reckon I'll stretch my legs in that direction after breakfast. Suppose we
+go up and see what the Doc says about Jimmy?"
+
+In the meantime, the doctor had examined his patient's leg, quietly
+ignoring the flood of excited questions hurled at him by the boy.
+
+"Him velly bad," he declared at length. "You keep him still while I get
+bullet out, mebbe he get well. You talk a heap and mebbe I cut him off."
+
+"You cut him off and I'll cut your liver out, Li, you sabe?" grinned
+Adams, gamely. "Anyhow, it's blamed good of you to ride over here. I'll
+bet you're sore, eh?"
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt coming up the road with the tray in her arms met the men
+coming up from the corral.
+
+"I never did suppose I'd see myself carrying breakfast to a Chinese," she
+said, wearily, "but you can't tell these days what'll come your way. I
+know exactly how that poor guy feels. I rode over to Casa Grande once on
+Cochise. He's wide and he's rough and anyone who wants to ride him twenty
+miles is welcome to him as far as I'm concerned."
+
+The train gang hung around to hear the verdict on Jimmy Adams. They were
+much relieved to hear that the operation was to be one of probing rather
+than of cutting. They had had some gloomy discussions on that point which
+had ended in consulting the mail order catalogue in order to see whether
+it advertised artificial limbs.
+
+"He wants one of you to help," said Mrs. Van, coming out of the room. "I
+wisht you would. I feel that nasty this morning that the sight of blood
+would just about finish me. Go on in, Tom." Tom went in. Mrs. Van set the
+tray on the table. "Seems funny to be waiting on a cook, don't it? But I
+suppose it's different when he's tending the sick, and I'll say he's
+clean. He washed his hands before he touched Jimmy. I watched him."
+
+"Well, that's more than old Estrada over in Conejo does," said O'Grady.
+"He pulled a tooth for me last winter and he come in from feedin' his pigs
+to do it. Right plumb into my mouth he started to put his dirty fist.
+'No,' says I, 'you wash that mitt first. Afterward you can suit
+yourself.'"
+
+"You better get a swig of whiskey ready for Tom," suggested the brakeman,
+solicitously. "Them operations is ugly things."
+
+"I will," said Mrs. Van, hurrying to the cabinet and taking down the
+bottle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE WAGON
+
+
+Herrick stopped before they had gone a dozen yards from the house.
+
+"Go on and find the women," he said, curtly. "I have something to do
+before they come."
+
+"Something----" Scott stared at the little man uncomprehendingly.
+
+"So. Do you want them to see those ugly bodies?" he pointed to the two
+dead Yaquis, stretched ghastly and plain in the moonlight. "I shall pull
+them into the shadow of the bushes."
+
+"Well, he's nervy for a piano player, ain't he?" murmured Scott, as he and
+Hard turned the corner of the house.
+
+"I think, myself, that there's a lot of rot talked about the artistic
+temperament," replied Hard, drily. "The war showed us that poets could
+fight as courageously as plumbers, and I've always thought that when you
+got the real unadulterated article in artistic temperament, you usually
+got with it a distinctly cruel streak. I believe that you and I hated
+killing those Indians a lot more than Herrick did, though he'll probably
+throw a nervous chill over it after a while and compose a piece about
+it."
+
+"Well, maybe so," assented Scott. "He's the only artistic chap I ever got
+real close to and I don't mind admitting he's mighty queer--but he ain't
+yellow. I'll say that for him after to-night."
+
+They were passing a clump of bushes as he spoke and two dark figures
+started forth. Scott instinctively put his hand on his gun.
+
+"Oh," gasped the shorter figure, "what has happened? Are you shot? Who is
+running away--you or they?" She seized Scott's wrists with a clutching
+hold.
+
+Scott laughed. "That's how you obey orders, is it? Where are the horses?"
+
+"I don't know. We stayed right here," faltered Polly. "I want to know if
+you're hurt!"
+
+"No, not if I know it, and I usually recognize bullets when they hit me."
+
+"What happened?" insisted the other woman. "Have they gone?"
+
+"They're fighting somebody over in the hills--we don't know who it is,"
+replied Hard. "Probably Angel Gonzales. These fellows were evidently an
+advance guard."
+
+"We ought to get out of here before they come back," said Scott. "You
+can't tell how long that will last--and whoever licks, we don't want to be
+hanging around here."
+
+"They'll burn the place, I suppose," said Mrs. Conrad, wearily. "May I go
+back and get some things?"
+
+Scott hesitated. "I think we ought to get away," he said. "But one of us
+will have to go back to get Herrick and the saddles--if you can hurry--go
+with her, Hard, and I'll go after the horses."
+
+"Saddles?" Polly spoke suddenly. "Weren't they in the barn?"
+
+"No; luckily I put them in the wagon when I was tinkering with it," said
+Scott. "We've only two horses, you know, and I want you women to ride
+them."
+
+"By--by ourselves?" Mrs. Conrad's usually cheerful voice sounded a little
+frightened. "I couldn't find that trail in the dark; I'm not Li Yow, you
+know."
+
+"The horses will take you."
+
+"Oh, please let's keep together!" pleaded Polly. "Why can't we all go in
+the wagon the way you planned?"
+
+"Well, for one reason, the harness was in the barn and was burned," said
+Scott, with some irritation.
+
+"Herrick has a lot of old junk of that sort in his storeroom," volunteered
+Hard. "I believe you could patch up one. Those sounds have died away--the
+fight's over," he added. "Let's go back and have a look, and see what
+Herrick says."
+
+There was a pause and the two men consulted anxiously together. It was
+very still--not a sound from the direction of the hills. It really did
+look as though the attack had been followed by flight. Scott, against what
+he afterward called his better judgment, but what was really only a
+disinclination to change his mind, gave in, and the two men walked on
+ahead.
+
+"If we're going in the wagon, Hard, we've got to go by the road, and I
+don't stir a step on that road till I know whether this deviltry is over
+for the night or not. We'll camp down here for a few hours, and start by
+daybreak."
+
+"Why not? The horses need the rest and so do we. I say camp, by all
+means."
+
+Everything seemed harmless at the ranch house. Herrick, who had performed
+his unpleasant task, was studying the extent of the damage, which seemed
+to be confined to broken windows. When consulted, he approved of the idea
+of an early morning start in the wagon and believed that out of the odds
+and ends of harness in the storeroom something could be patched up and
+made to do.
+
+"All right then." Scott's voice was emphatic. "I'll fix the wagon first
+thing in the morning. And now, let's all turn in and catch a few winks
+before daybreak."
+
+"I don't believe I'll sleep a minute," said Polly, as the two women were
+left alone in the room which Clara Conrad had been occupying. "I'll throw
+my cloak around me and lie down on the couch. I feel awfully strung up,
+don't you?"
+
+"Yes," said the older woman. "But I'm going to try to sleep, and so must
+you."
+
+As a matter of fact, Clara did not expect to sleep. The meeting with Henry
+Hard had brought up old memories--memories both happy and sad. He had
+changed little, the tall, thin, sandy-haired man. It was good, oh so good,
+to have something back again from the old life! As she closed her eyes and
+put away from her the events of the day, old scenes came back with a
+clearness that they had not worn for many years. The old houses; the
+quiet, cultured, elderly men and women, the gayer young ones, herself and
+Hard among them; the dinners, dances, concerts; the summer days on the
+water, and the rides--all came back as though they had been but yesterday,
+and all on account of this one man who had played so important a part in
+them.
+
+She realized, as she lay there in the darkness, that without putting the
+thought clearly, she had had deeply imbedded in her mind the idea that she
+would see him or hear something about him when she went back to Boston.
+She was not in love with him, but she had never forgotten him and she
+would never feel about him as she did about so many of the others who had
+played parts in her old life. Soothed by the thought, she drifted into a
+calm and restful sleep.
+
+Polly, however, was too unskilled in the management of her thoughts to be
+able to relax at will. She lay quietly, so as not to disturb the other
+woman, but her mind was whirling. She lived again each event of the past
+two days; the raid on the mine, the ride with Pachuca, his escape, the
+trip to Casa Grande, and the growing companionship with Scott--the look
+she had surprised in his eyes only an hour ago when she had stood with him
+on the veranda, looking at the distant mountains; and then the dreadful
+minutes spent behind the bushes, listening to the guns of the attacking
+Yaquis.
+
+"And I thought a golf tournament was exciting!" she said, smiling in the
+dark. Softly she rose and crept to the window. It was very beautiful out
+there; mountains, hills, bushes, all a study in absolute stillness. The
+only sound that came to her ears was the howl of a wolf in the distance.
+
+"Coming in at just the right moment," smiled the girl. "What a country for
+effects! Oh dear, I believe I could sleep out there in the hammock if it
+wasn't too chilly."
+
+Taking the couch cover over her arm she crept softly out of the door and
+out on to the veranda where the hammock swayed gently in the breeze. Polly
+adjusted herself in it with care; a fall would bring all the occupants of
+the house out with a bound.
+
+"First they'd bound and then they'd fuss," she said to herself. "I don't
+want to be fussed at, I just want to snatch a few winks out under this
+gorgeous sky. I don't understand how when skies and stars and mountains
+are all laid out for them, artists want to do the red and green futurist
+horrors that they love so. Now, what's that noise?"
+
+A queer kind of noise it was. Polly sat up quite suddenly. It seemed to
+come from behind a clump of bushes some distance to the right. It was a
+pounding, scraping sort of noise, not very loud, but distinctly
+disconcerting. You got the impression that whoever was doing it was trying
+not to make any more noise than he could help. Polly's heart beat rapidly.
+She must call one of the men. She rose unsteadily and at the same moment
+the noise stopped. A tall figure stepped out from behind the bushes and
+came toward the house.
+
+Polly stepped back into the shadow of the porch. She was about to dive
+into the open window when another sound caught her ear. The man was
+whistling softly--whistling the Slumber Motif from Die Walküre! Polly
+laughed aloud. She had taken Henry Hard for a bandit.
+
+"Hello, what are you doing up on deck?" he said, whimsically. "I thought
+we'd sent the passengers below and battened down the hatches."
+
+"I couldn't sleep, so I came out here. What are you doing with that pick?
+Was it you I heard digging?"
+
+"Scott and me. I came up for a match."
+
+"But what can you be digging for at this time of night? Not buried
+treasure?" eagerly.
+
+"My dear child, I hate to disappoint you, knowing your feelings on the
+subject. If you must know, we killed a couple of Yaquis and we're burying
+them on what we'd call at home 'the lawn.' It's rather awful, but we can't
+help it."
+
+"Killed them!" Polly's eyes were wide with horror.
+
+"It's a rotten business, if you ask me, both killing and burying. I'm just
+beginning to form a faint idea of the sort of thing the youngsters we sent
+abroad had to face. I was keeping up my courage by whistling. Won't you go
+to bed like a nice girl?"
+
+"No. I couldn't stand it in there in the dark. It doesn't seem so bad out
+here. Go on--don't bother about me."
+
+After Hard had got his match and joined Scott again behind the bushes,
+Polly sat and listened to the ominous sounds, her pleasant reflections
+quite at an end.
+
+"That's how it always goes. You begin to feel comfortable and pleased with
+your philosophy and yourself and then reality comes along and swats you
+one in the eye. I will not think of those Indians! I'll think of Bob and
+Emma. Wonder what kind of a nurse Emma makes? Not that she'll have a
+chance to try, poor lamb. Those trained ones will shoo her off and flirt
+with Bob themselves."
+
+It was some time before the two men finished their ugly job. Polly saw
+them come out from behind the bushes and go into the house by the back
+door. She stretched herself sleepily--it was beginning to be a bit chilly,
+even when wrapped in a coat and a serape. Perhaps it would be wiser to go
+in. She folded the serape and started for the door, only to stop midway as
+Scott came out.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I thought you'd all gone to bed."
+
+"And you know you ought to," said he. "I don't blame you for not wanting
+to. Those mountains get one, don't they?"
+
+They were standing exactly where they had stood so short a time ago, but
+so much had happened since that it seemed hours gone by. It wasn't to be
+expected, the girl thought, that they could go on from where they had left
+off. She looked up. He was staring at the mountains. She felt a ridiculous
+mixture of relief and disappointment.
+
+"They get me," she answered. "I never knew I was so fond of mountains."
+
+"It's the mystery of them. You have the feeling that things are going on
+in and about them that you don't know--that nobody'll ever know. I
+remember the first time I climbed a big mountain--up in Colorado. When I
+was about three-quarters of the way up I looked down on one of those
+little mountain lakes--just as blue as that ring of yours--set in the
+brown of the mountain. It made me feel as if I'd struck gold. I couldn't
+believe that anybody but the Indians and I had ever seen that lake."
+
+Scott was leaning against the post of the veranda, still looking at the
+mountains. Suddenly he turned.
+
+"Little girl, I think you'd better be going in and getting a few hours of
+sleep," he said. "Four o'clock comes along awfully early in the morning."
+
+Polly said nothing. She picked up the serape again and turned to go. Then
+she came back again, holding out her hand.
+
+"Mr. Scott, I haven't said a word to show that I'm grateful for what you
+did to-night. You saved my life, didn't you?"
+
+Scott took the hand and smiled down into the serious eyes.
+
+"I wouldn't go that far," he said. "Those fellows who horned into our
+fight did that, I reckon. I sure tried to, though, if you'd like to shake
+hands on that."
+
+"You risked your own life, anyhow, so please don't spoil my story."
+
+"Well, put it that I'll be delighted to save your life any time you say,
+even if I get my hide full of holes for doing it. How's that?"
+
+"That's all right," agreed Polly, heartily. "You may call me at twenty
+minutes of four, if you please," and she disappeared into the house.
+
+Scott stood a moment after she was gone, an odd little smile on his lips.
+
+"I wonder if she'd care--or would it be another case of Joyce Henderson?"
+he said. "Well, serve me right for a fool if it was!" He kicked a stick
+out of his way as he made for the wagon. "What have you got to offer a
+girl, anyhow?" He took a pocket torch out and examined the wheel of the
+wagon. "I've seen better looking wheels and then again I've seen worse,"
+he decided, pessimistically. "If our luck holds we'll make it. Doggone it,
+being civilized makes an awful idiot of a man. I'm going to dream of those
+poor Yaquis we've just buried, sure as shoe leather."
+
+Four o'clock does indeed come along early when you have not closed your
+eyes before midnight. It also comes along chilly and dark and generally
+uncomfortable. The women were awakened by Hard, who had to knock loudly on
+their door in order to accomplish it. They tumbled to their feet and
+performed the necessary dressing operations in the dark, except for a
+candle which Clara lighted cautiously.
+
+"And to think that people once lived by candlelight!" murmured Polly,
+sleepily. "Were born, married, and finally died by it. Well, the race has
+come up a peg, I'll say that for it."
+
+Mrs. Conrad was ready first. She was very rapid, in a quiet, unhurried
+fashion. In her corduroy skirt and jacket, she looked very girlish. Polly
+mentally took five years off her estimate of her new acquaintance's age.
+
+"Awfully natural looking woman, too," she commented, silently. "Most of
+the pretty women I know at home are always doing things to
+themselves--fussing over their looks; but she just seems to keep herself
+fresh and neat and let it go at that, and she manages to look young and
+handsome. As for me, I'm a rag and I look it, but perhaps as there are no
+tremendous beauties around, I'll pass."
+
+She followed Mrs. Conrad into the kitchen, where she found her busy with
+Herrick over the breakfast. The pleasant odors of burning wood and boiling
+coffee had already made themselves noticed. Scott, in a corner of the
+kitchen, was working over the harness which he was getting into a
+condition possible for use. He looked up and nodded as Polly entered.
+
+"Your gentleman friend left a few things; we won't have to starve on the
+road," he said, drily. "There's a side of bacon--wonder why he left
+that?"
+
+"Perhaps he didn't see it," suggested Polly, sweetly.
+
+"I guess that's the answer. There, I reckon that harness will take us as
+far as Athens, if we have a bit of luck. If you'll bring out what you want
+to take, Mrs. Conrad, we'll pack it in the wagon."
+
+"I've only a couple of suitcases. My trunks went by rail to the
+border--that is, they started."
+
+"How about you, Herrick? Afraid we can't take the piano."
+
+Herrick looked up in some surprise. "Me?" he said. "I am not going with
+you, my friend."
+
+"Not going with us? But, Victor, you can't stay here alone." Mrs. Conrad's
+voice had real solicitude in it.
+
+"Why not? Li will return and you shall send him first to Conejo to buy
+provisions. When things settle down, my men will come back and we shall go
+to work again."
+
+"You're going to stick by the ranch?" demanded Scott.
+
+"It is my home. What else have I?" The little man's voice was sad.
+
+"Well, maybe you're right," said Scott, after a moment. "The best way to
+hang on to property just now is to sit down on it. We'll send Li over to
+Conejo with the wagon and he can load up. If you get into trouble,
+remember you've got friends in this country." And the two men shook hands
+heartily as Scott tramped off to the wagon.
+
+Polly did not see the parting between the musician and Clara Conrad, but
+the latter looked, when she came out of the house, as though she had been
+crying, and the little man looked more pathetic than ever as he stood
+alone in the doorway waving them good-bye.
+
+"Do you think he ought to say there?" demanded Polly, as Scott helped her
+into the wagon.
+
+"No, I don't, but he's obstinate and you can't move him once he makes up
+his mind. There's a lot of the woman in every artistic man, I believe,"
+grunted Scott, disgustedly.
+
+A little later, with the two Athens horses hitched to the mountain wagon,
+the party started out, Hard driving. The road led out through the hills
+where the fighting had been only a few hours ago. There was no sign of
+what had happened. It was a poor road, narrow, rough and little used.
+There were ruts in it and chuck-holes, turns and an occasional arroyo. It
+was rather ghostly, too, driving at this hour; the chill, early morning
+feel of the air, the fading moon, the faint pinkness hanging over the
+mountains suggesting the coming dawn.
+
+"One thing you miss around here is the cattle," said Scott. "Up in New
+Mexico you'd be starting out this time in the morning and you'd see the
+range cattle looking at you, sort of surprised to see folks around so
+early in the morning; some of 'em still lying down and napping. Around
+here raising cattle hasn't been very popular the last few years--too
+hazardous."
+
+"Miss Polly, I want you to notice that funny little house over there,"
+said Hard, pointing to his right.
+
+"Where?"
+
+Indeed, there was reason for the question. The little cabin had been built
+tightly against a hill, with the hill scooped out to make the back part. A
+closer look revealed a burro standing on the roof beside the chimney.
+
+"Well, that's the first time I ever saw a burro on a roof!" declared
+Polly. "Who lives there?"
+
+"A Mexican family named Soria," replied Hard. "I'll go over and see if
+they know anything about the fighting last night."
+
+"You won't need to," said Scott. "Here comes the whole population."
+
+So it seemed. There was an old woman--very old, very thin and very brown;
+a younger one, half a dozen youngsters, several dogs and finally the
+burro. The family were clad in every sort of decrepit garment. Polly
+thought she had rarely seen so pitiful an assemblage; and yet they did not
+look particularly unhappy, except the younger woman, who hung back and
+seemed to have been crying. They had seen the wagon and had come out to
+find out what was going on. The older woman came directly to the wagon,
+while the younger one stood a little way off, a baby in her arms, and the
+other children hanging around her. She was rather a pretty woman, or would
+have been with half a chance. It is difficult to be pretty when your hair
+hangs in straggling locks, your too plump figure festoons itself around
+you in bags, and your clothes look as though you had never had them off
+since you first became acquainted with them. Poor things, they lead an
+awful life.
+
+"I'll let you speak to her, Clara," Hard said, with a smile. "I think your
+Spanish is in better working order than mine. Ask after the daughter's
+husband; he's in the army and it may open the way for a little
+information."
+
+Mrs. Conrad spoke in rapid and soft-sounding Spanish to the old woman who
+stood listening, her wrinkled face set in the monotony of hopelessness.
+
+"How beautifully she speaks Spanish!" thought Polly, enviously. "I don't
+understand a word of it, but even I can tell the difference between hers
+and the kind that both the men speak."
+
+"Good-morning, my friend." Clara's voice was cheerful and pleasant. "How
+is the family?"
+
+"Badly, señora, very badly. My son Manuel joined the army last night and
+with him his wife and two little ones. Now we have no man in the house--we
+shall starve."
+
+"But your daughter's husband?"
+
+"Francisco was killed last week in a fight. The soldiers brought the news.
+Carlotta has four little ones now and no man."
+
+"That is very bad. I am sorry. What soldiers do you mean?"
+
+"Last night. The soldiers who came from the north."
+
+"D'you mean that the crowd that was fighting up here in the hills were
+soldiers?" broke in Scott, eagerly. "Federal soldiers?"
+
+"No, no, the soldiers of the revolution--Sonora troops. They march south
+against Sinaloa." Carlotta had crept nearer and was taking part in the
+conversation.
+
+"I don't get you. Who was doing the fighting?" demanded Scott.
+
+The old woman burst into rapid speech, leaving Scott in the lurch
+immediately. Clara came to his rescue.
+
+"The poor old thing is more Indian than Mexican and she doesn't talk very
+clearly," she said. "She says that the party which came along the road
+last night was a regiment of cavalry from up north. They saw the barn
+burning and thought that the bandits were on the march; so they started
+over that way. They fell in with the stragglers of the Yaqui crowd and
+started to fight. As near as I can tell, each party seems to have thought
+that the other was Angel Gonzales' band. The Yaquis had been rooted out of
+their village by Gonzales and were on the warpath, poor creatures.
+
+"Fortunately, there were a lot of Yaquis in the troop and by the time the
+fellows who were trying to loot us came along they began to understand the
+situation and the lot of them joined the troops. This old lady's son,
+Manuel, joined too, and his wife and babies went along. That explains why
+they let us alone last night."
+
+"It does," said Scott. "And it shows that Angel is around somewhere bent
+on deviltry. Here, old lady, is something to buy chow for the babies for a
+few days--better luck to you!" He handed her some money and they drove
+away amid loud thanks and happy smiles.
+
+"What in the world do you mean by the wife and babies going, too?"
+demanded Polly, excitedly.
+
+"Why, here in Mexico war is a family affair," replied Scott. "There's no
+such thing as the girl I left behind me. The Missus goes along and so do
+the youngsters. She does most of the foraging for food on the march."
+
+"The Mexican believes in equality of the sexes," said Hard. "He believes
+that the woman has just as much right to do manual labor, to provide a
+living for the family, to fight, and to perform all the other unpleasant
+functions of living as he has. If there are not enough to go around, he
+generously allows her to do his share."
+
+"It's great to be a wife in Mexico," observed Scott, drily. "Think of
+that, Miss Polly, next time you meet a fascinating Spaniard."
+
+"Don't be disagreeable," said Mrs. Conrad, "and don't tell fibs. It's the
+women of the lower classes who have the hard time down here just as they
+do in every country."
+
+"Except the U. S. A.," replied Scott, stoutly. "A woman may have hard luck
+in our country because she's sick or poor or married to a no-account; but
+not because the general opinion of the female sex is so darned low that
+any loafer who comes along feels that he's got a right to treat her as he
+pleases."
+
+"How you like to argue every point, don't you?" observed Polly. "Were you
+born like that or did it grow on you? Oh!"
+
+The "oh" was literally jolted out of her. Turning rather a sudden curve at
+a pretty good clip, the wagon slipped over the edge of a chuck-hole a
+little deeper than the ordinary. Happening as it did in just the right
+place, it caught the weakened wheel and wrenched it off as neatly and as
+suddenly as a dentist wrenches a tooth out of the jaw of an unwilling
+patient.
+
+There was a crash and a jar as the wagon sank on its side, and the
+frightened horses struggling to pull the dragging load, snapped the
+harness where Scott had patched it. The occupants were jumbled into the
+bottom of the wagon, except Hard, who was pitched out into the road. Scott
+was out in a minute and at the horses' heads; the women righted themselves
+just in time to see Hard pull himself to his feet, staggering as he did
+so.
+
+"Hurt, Henry?" asked Scott, who was trying to calm the horses.
+
+"No, just bent my knee under me."
+
+"Here, hold these critturs while I pull the ladies out!"
+
+"We're all right--that is, I'm all right. Look after Mrs. Conrad," said
+Polly, as Scott lifted her from the débris. "What was it? The wheel?"
+
+Mrs. Conrad gladly availed herself of Scott's ready arm. "What did Henry
+do?" she said. By this time, Scott was loosing the horses from the harness
+and Hard had hobbled over to the edge of the road, where he sat down.
+
+"It's my bad knee," he explained. "I did this once, only much worse,
+playing football in college. Fell, you know, with it doubled under me. I
+was laid up for six months."
+
+"Oh, Henry!"
+
+"Oh, I shan't be this time. It always lames me for a few hours, though,
+when I do anything to it. Knees are great chaps for bearing malice."
+
+"Well, you certainly shan't walk to Athens," said Polly, with decision.
+"You must ride one horse and Mrs. Conrad the other, while Mr. Scott and I
+walk. I'd love to!"
+
+"Dear child, you couldn't," exclaimed Clara. "Could you ride, Henry, do
+you think? You and Polly could ride to Athens and send somebody back for
+us with the other wagon."
+
+"I could," said Hard, "but I'd rather not. I'd like to rest it for a
+couple of hours if I could. Scott, suppose you walk and let them ride and
+leave me here. There's a shady-looking spot over in those cottonwoods and
+I'll just rest there till I'm able to hobble back to the Soria place. You
+can send for me there."
+
+"There's a trail just above here that goes over and strikes the one we
+came on about eight miles from Athens," said Scott, doubtfully. "I've
+never traveled it, but Gomez told me about it last year. Rough, he said,
+but navigable. I guess that's what we'd better do, Hard, leave you here
+and I'll walk."
+
+"How far is it?" asked Mrs. Conrad.
+
+"Oh, twenty miles, maybe. It cuts off a good deal."
+
+"You shan't walk twenty miles on a rough trail, my dear man, if I can
+prevent it," said Clara, firmly. "You and Polly must ride, and I'll stay
+here with Henry. Now, please! I'm at home in this country and I'm not
+afraid." There was a pause, then Scott said:
+
+"I guess she's right, Hard. They don't either of 'em ride well enough to
+tackle a strange trail alone, and if I walk it will delay sending back for
+you. One of us had better ride the trail with Polly, while the other stays
+at Soria's with Mrs. Conrad."
+
+After a little more discussion it was decided that Scott and Polly should
+go, while the other two returned, after Hard had rested a bit, to the
+Soria place. Scott moved the suitcases which Clara had brought over to the
+little nook made by the cottonwoods, where they could be left until
+someone came with the Athens wagon, and helped Hard to hobble over there.
+Then, feeling rather as though they had deserted their friends, and yet
+not knowing what else to do, Scott and Polly rode away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE TRAIL
+
+
+In after years, Scott was wont to say that he distrusted the trail
+recommended by Gomez from the moment his horse started to travel it.
+
+"It was one of those trails that didn't look right--from the first," he
+would say with a reminiscent inflection. As a matter of fact, however, the
+trail looked innocent enough at the first glance, and Scott's pessimism
+may be laid partly to the circumstances under which the trip was attempted
+and partly to the fact that Scott almost always hated to change his mind.
+
+"How long will it be, do you suppose, before you can send back for the
+others?" queried Polly, as they rode away.
+
+"Well, we ought to make Athens to-night," replied Scott, thoughtfully.
+"Tom could start back with our wagon early in the morning. Cochise and
+this fellow I'm riding, Jasper, could make it."
+
+"They'll have to stay at the Sorias' all night. They'll be very
+uncomfortable."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. They're neither of them tenderfeet. They'll get
+along."
+
+"It'll be very romantic, of course, and very exciting," sighed Polly.
+
+"Romantic? Why?"
+
+"Well, people have a way of making love to widows," said Polly, wistfully.
+"And anybody with half an eye can see that he likes her."
+
+"Shucks! Hard's a gentleman; he won't think he has to be rude to a woman
+just because he's left alone with her overnight."
+
+"It isn't being rude to ask a woman to marry you if you happen to like
+her, is it?" demanded Polly, with spirit.
+
+"It is, under some circumstances," replied Scott, shortly. "You're pretty
+romantic, aren't you, for a grown-up girl?"
+
+"I? Not at all." Polly flushed, indignantly. "But I'm interested when I
+see two people that I like falling nicely in love with each other."
+
+"She's not in love with him or she'd have married him when she had the
+chance," said Scott, authoritatively. "She's an ambitious woman; what does
+she want of a man buried in a coal mine?"
+
+"She may have changed. That was a long time ago," ventured the girl. "And
+if she cares for him, she might forget her ambition. Women do,
+sometimes."
+
+"Yes, in books they do," replied Scott, moodily. "But I never saw a woman
+in her class give up anything she really wanted just to marry a poor man.
+If she did, she'd probably make him miserable afterward, when she was
+sorry she'd done it."
+
+They rode a while in silence. Polly was hurt and angry. It occurred to her
+that Scott's objection to her romantic imaginings was based on something
+deeper than just his usual argumentativeness. Perhaps her imagination had
+misled her in regard to what had been in his eyes the night before. Or
+rather, not her imagination, but her vanity. It was a disagreeable thought
+for one who had promised herself to have done forever with that unpleasant
+trait. Also, down underneath, there was a hurt that had nothing to do with
+vanity.
+
+Scott rode silently, occupied with his thoughts. He glanced now and then,
+however, at the slender figure of the girl who rode beside him. She was
+very pleasing to look upon, with her curly, reddish hair, big dark eyes,
+delicate features, and smooth tanned skin. Her white hat was pulled down
+to shade her eyes; her brown coat, trousers and boots wore a jaunty
+appearance; but it was not altogether of appearances that Scott was
+thinking.
+
+It is possible with some of us to view the outward and the inward at the
+same time and to render quite unrelated verdicts. Scott had been conscious
+of doing this before with Polly Street, but of late somehow the verdicts
+had begun to agree. He was finding the inward Polly quite as attractive as
+the outward. Had she changed or had he learned to look deeper, he
+wondered? He had thought her spoiled and superficial, yet possessing
+undoubtedly worth-while qualities, such as pluck and honesty--things you
+cannot be deceived in.
+
+Now he was finding another side to the girl; a something very sweet and
+lovable. Was he being led away by the eye of man which is troubled by many
+things, or was the better side of the girl coming to the surface under
+different conditions? Was she beginning to care a little for him or was
+she playing with him as she probably had done with the Henderson boy?
+Scott set his teeth grimly.
+
+There are after all two great classes into which humanity may be divided;
+those who are living purposefully, in the higher sense of the word, and
+those who are drifting. The purposeful people may and often do go wrong,
+but they have at least something to come back to when they right
+themselves. The drifters, on the other hand, are not only without help for
+themselves, but have a dreadful way of clutching at the purposeful ones
+and submerging them as well. The average man or woman who belongs to the
+former class has rather a horror of the drifter and likes to give him a
+wide berth. Something of this nature had passed through Scott's head more
+than once when he had been attracted by a woman whose outer and inner
+trappings did not correspond.
+
+It was so easy, however, to like this auburn-headed youngster, who seemed
+to have gotten over her anger against him and to be beginning to like him.
+She had such a warm, quick smile; such a caressing look in those serious
+eyes. She was so natural and easy with him; turned to him so quickly for
+his approval of what she said or did and took his uncouth criticism so
+sweetly. It was flattering--yes, that was just the point. Was she sincere,
+or was she planning to add him to the list of her victims? She would not
+do that. He was no boy, to be petted and thrown aside.
+
+About this time, they came upon the trail. The little river had followed
+the road for about a mile and a half, when across on its other bank Scott
+saw a deep rut leading out of it and continuing in a narrow line or trail
+so faint as to be easily overlooked. It wound along, lost itself in some
+chaparral and doubtless became clear again beyond. The chaparral being on
+a little rise, one could not see beyond it.
+
+"There we are," he called to the girl, who had fallen a little behind.
+"Wait a bit till I find a place to get down the bank on this side."
+
+Polly waited. Scott rode up and down the bank; finally he stopped.
+
+"We'll have to cross here," he called. "It's steep but it's all right.
+Follow me," and both he and his horse disappeared in the river bed. Polly
+rode up and took a look at the descent.
+
+"I won't go so far as to say that he picked a nasty one because he's out
+of temper, but it looks like it," she grumbled. "Go on, pony, if he can do
+it I suppose we can."
+
+The pony put her two forefeet over the edge of the descent and clung to
+solidity and sanity with her hind two.
+
+"I don't blame you. It's what I'd do if I had four legs and some fool
+tried to make me slide down a precipice. But we've got to go. That man's
+got a jaw like Napoleon and there's no use arguing with him."
+
+She looked down. Scott had reached the bottom and was smiling back at her.
+One had to admit that he had the sort of smile which warmed up the
+atmosphere.
+
+"Want me to come and lead her?" he offered.
+
+"I do not." Polly gave her mount a little dig with her heel, the tension
+on the hind legs relaxed, a series of slides and jolts and the descent was
+made. She found herself in the river with Scott while the horses drank
+thirstily.
+
+"It was the only place to come down," he said, penitently.
+
+"Well, I wasn't scared, it was the horse," replied Polly, briefly. "You
+needn't think that every time we hang back it's my fault."
+
+"I've known times when it was a sign of good sense to be scared," retorted
+Scott, as he turned his horse's nose toward the upward climb.
+
+"That man can use up more good gray matter trying to dodge paying one a
+compliment than most men use in thinking up one," decided Polly.
+
+The way through the chaparral was trying. The trail was very faint, the
+stiff brush hit one in the face and almost tore one's clothing. It was
+necessary for Scott to go first in order to keep the trail, while the girl
+fell considerably into the rear to escape the blows from the brush which
+flew back after he had disturbed it. On either side of them, above the
+brush, rose walls formed by foothills, growing higher as they went. They
+were evidently going directly into the mountains.
+
+"Of course, we crossed two ranges when we came from Athens to Casa
+Grande," reasoned Polly, "and we've got to cross them again going back.
+But this doesn't look as though we were going through any gaps as we did
+on the other trail. We're evidently going straight up. It's going to be
+hard on the horses."
+
+It _was_ hard on the horses. It was getting on in the afternoon and the
+sun was still very hot. They had seen no water since leaving the little
+river. The trail had come out of the brush and become a narrow--a very
+narrow ledge on the side of the mountain, while on the other side one
+looked down into a ravine deep enough to make one's head swim if one
+looked too long. Scott ploughed along ahead, looking back whenever the
+trail showed a nasty place, ready to jump off and go to the girl's rescue
+if necessary.
+
+"She's a plucky one all right," he said to himself. "This is no trail for
+a tenderfoot. I hope we don't run into anything worse before we get
+through. How are you coming?" he called back.
+
+They had come to a turn in the trail. Huge boulders poised on the edge of
+the narrow ledge with that utter disregard for gravity displayed now and
+then by rocks which look big enough to know better. Scott had dismounted
+and stood looking into the ravine which had widened into a valley. In
+front of him, on the narrow turn, it seemed but a step to the tree-tops of
+the valley below. Further ahead, lay the next range of mountains, higher
+than the ones through which they were passing. Back of them, the winding
+trail seemed to flutter like a brown ribbon. Polly hopped down and joined
+him. Together they drank in the scene.
+
+"It's too lovely. It hurts," said the girl, with wet eyes.
+
+"Isn't it? I didn't know myself that there was anything around here like
+this."
+
+"It's worth being raided for," replied Polly. "Let's stay here a while and
+keep on looking."
+
+Scott smiled. "Will it spoil it for you if I eat a sandwich?" he said.
+
+"Not if there's one for me, too," laughed the girl. "But I thought you
+left all the lunch with the others."
+
+"Not all. I'm too good a woodsman to go on a strange trail with nothing to
+eat in my saddle-bag. Luckily I didn't have to leave them the canteen."
+They ate the sandwiches--saving a portion for dinner in case they were
+late reaching Athens--and washed them down with warm water from the
+canteen.
+
+"Let's look around the corner before we mount again," suggested the girl.
+"I like to know what's ahead of me."
+
+"Around the corner" was a slope down into the ravine, more gradual than
+before and green with stunted grass and mesquite. Here and there a cactus
+rose gauntly, some in the tall Spanish bayonet with its lovely bloom, and
+some in the low, dagger-like plant close to the ground. Above them, on the
+right side rose the rocky wall of the mountain, not altogether sheer in
+its ascent, but curving in and then out at the top, the upper ridge
+forming a shelf. Mesquite grew seemingly out of the solid rock.
+
+"Oh, look," exclaimed the girl. "There's almost a little cave up there
+under that shelf! It could be a rustler's cave if there were any rustlers
+around."
+
+"There are more rustlers than there are things to rustle," remarked her
+companion.
+
+Standing on the narrow trail, they looked over and down into the valley.
+It was lonely to look at; not a house, not a living creature, and yet so
+very beautiful--with a warmth of color and sunshine. Polly did not speak.
+Her eyes were fixed on the scene below. She did not see the look on
+Scott's face as he stood beside her, gazing not at the valley but at the
+purity of her face so near his shoulder.
+
+It was very still. Suddenly a bird flew from one of the bushes, flew
+across the rock in front of their faces. Polly, her thought broken, turned
+quickly and surprised the hungry look in Scott's eyes. Her face flushed
+and neither spoke. Then, impulsively, he took her in his arms and kissed
+her passionately, Polly, sobbing, clinging to him in a silence full of
+meaning. As suddenly Scott put her away from him, holding her and looking
+into her eyes.
+
+"Do you mean it?" he demanded almost angrily. "You're not playing with
+me?"
+
+Polly did not answer. She looked up into his eyes, her own still wet. He
+took her in his arms again.
+
+"I don't see why!" he said, softly. "There's nothing about me for you to
+fall in love with. Are you sure?"
+
+"Very sure," she lifted her head. "I was sure last night, when you nearly
+told me--before those Indians came. Why didn't you want to tell me?"
+
+"Because I knew I'd no business to," replied Scott, roughly. "I've no
+business to, now, but I'm human and when you stood there with the sun on
+your hair, and that look on your face, I fell."
+
+"I'll stand that way again," smiled Polly, "if you'll stop scowling and
+say nice things to me. It isn't a criminal offense, Marc Scott, for an
+unmarried man to fall in love with me. Don't feel so badly about it."
+
+"It may not be criminal, but it's not square," replied Scott, obstinately.
+"With you a rich man's daughter, and----"
+
+"But not an heiress, remember! That makes a difference," she said,
+coaxingly.
+
+"Perhaps--anyhow, I'm glad you're not rich," said Scott, soberly. "I think
+I'd fight with a rich wife."
+
+"My dear Marc, you and I would fight, no matter who had the money. We're
+the scrappy kind. But, on the other hand, we'll always make up again, and
+that's what counts. That's what Joyce Henderson and I couldn't do. We went
+for months and months without a quarrel, but when we once had one we
+couldn't get over it."
+
+"You're sure you've forgotten about that chap?"
+
+"Quite. He doesn't exist."
+
+Again they were silent, the sun picking out radiant bits of Polly's hair
+to light upon as she stood leaning against Scott's arm, his rough coat
+rubbing her soft skin.
+
+"It's a nice old world," she said, drawing a long breath.
+
+"It's good enough for me," he answered as he leaned over and kissed her.
+
+"Do you know, I've been wondering for a week whether it was me or Mrs. Van
+Zandt that you were in love with?" said Polly, with one of her sudden
+smiles.
+
+"Me? Care for----" Scott's voice died away in surprise.
+
+"You behaved as though you did. You are always so gentle and pleasant with
+her."
+
+"I'm gentle and pleasant with everybody," declared Scott, stoutly. "I have
+that kind of disposition."
+
+"I think you'd better go and get the horses," suggested Polly. "I'd rather
+not begin disagreeing with you just yet."
+
+Scott, chuckling, went back after the horses. Polly, left alone, sat down
+on a stone and gave a little sigh of contentment.
+
+"To think," she said, incredulously, "that once I thought I was in love
+with Joyce Henderson!"
+
+"Polly!" Scott's voice was sharp. He came around the turn on a trot.
+"Those cussed horses have cleared out and left us high and dry. I've got
+to go after them."
+
+"But--I thought horses always went home when they ran off!"
+
+"I think they've gone down into the canyon--there may be water down there.
+Will you sit here while I go after them?"
+
+"I suppose so," forlornly. "You won't stay long?"
+
+"Be back in half an hour." Scott disappeared down the trail. Polly watched
+him a moment or two and then returned to her resting place. Something of
+the happiness was gone from her eyes. The accident was ill-timed. It
+brought a feeling of foreboding most disagreeable in its contrast with her
+former exaltation. She jumped to her feet determined to do something to
+take her mind off the ugly thought.
+
+"I'll climb up and see if that really is a cave up there," she thought.
+Fired by this ambition, she started to work her way up the cliff; no easy
+task and ruinous to riding boots of soft leather. By the time she had
+discovered this last fact she had covered about one-third of the distance
+and was crouching beside a protruding rock to get her breath. "It's rather
+foolish to tear up a perfectly good pair of riding boots just at the
+psychological moment when leather is villainously high and I'm on the
+verge of marrying a poor man. I guess I'll give up the cave."
+
+If the view had been remarkable from the trail, it was marvelous from the
+little eminence which she had reached. She looked and looked, her eyes
+full of wonder. Away in the distance, a tiny stream fluttered its way over
+the brown side of the mountain, which the sun seemed to polish until it
+shone; while on the shadowed side, the pines took on a dark, heavy green,
+both sombre and beautiful. Below her, on the trail--but what was that?
+Coming over the top of a hilly rise, a little way below, was a man on a
+horse--then a second and a third, and finally a line of riders, so long a
+line that it suggested a regiment!
+
+Polly's mind worked quickly. There was but one explanation; Angel Gonzales
+was in the neighborhood, was on his way to rendezvous with Juan Pachuca,
+and without doubt this was Angel Gonzales, and these were his men. What
+should she do? They were coming very rapidly, and whatever was done would
+have to be done instantly. Her first thought was for Scott. He would be
+taken unaware. If she could only get to him--warn him--so that he could
+hide in the brush till the men had passed! Breathlessly, she began to
+climb down the cliff. She was badly frightened, her nerve was shaken and
+her strength seemed to be leaving her. She found herself slipping and
+sliding on the rock.
+
+Another look at the riders showed them very near--so near that her courage
+failed her. In a panic she began to climb again. She must reach the little
+cave before they saw her. She could not fall into the hands of Angel
+Gonzales. She caught her breath in little sobs, her heart seemed about to
+burst, every foot gained meant a desperate effort. She clutched at the
+tufts of mesquite that grew out of the rock and thanked Providence that
+her brown suit was so nearly the color of the cliff. Gasping and sobbing,
+she finally sank behind the mesquite bush which covered the cave.
+
+It was not really a cave, she discovered, but merely a crevice in the
+cliff, made into a little shelf by the rock which protruded above it,
+while the bush growing thickly in front of it gave it the look of a cave.
+It was, however, a shelter, and Polly crouched in it thankfully, breathing
+with difficulty and keeping one eye on the line of men filing along below
+her. They were a hard looking lot, clad in all sorts of clothes from
+uniforms to overalls. They seemed to her inexperienced eye innumerable;
+they were, perhaps, seventy-five or a hundred.
+
+"And poor--like an army of tramps," she thought. "Very desperate
+tramps--oh, why didn't I keep on and try to warn Marc?"
+
+She could not understand her panic, now that her own danger was over and
+the men had passed. Marc Scott had called her a brave girl, and she had
+saved her own skin and let him walk into the trap. She sobbed bitterly. If
+there was only anything that she could do! To sit there in that awful
+silence was more than she could bear. She could no longer see the riders,
+who had turned the curve and were out of sight and sound. Far off in the
+distance two buzzards circled about over something that was dead or dying.
+Perhaps it was a man--at the thought the girl rose unsteadily to her feet.
+She could not stay alone another moment in this horrible place; she would
+go and find Scott, if she had to brave Angel Gonzales to do it. With a
+recklessness born of desperation she slid and scuffled down the side of
+the cliff and ran blindly down the trail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ANGEL
+
+
+Scott, starting breezily down the trail after the recreant horses,
+whistled a tune as he went, for he was happy. He did not weigh reason
+against happiness--it was too soon for that. He would have given you,
+however, if pressed, a number of very good reasons why he and Polly Street
+were going to be happy together, in spite of their different upbringing,
+and his own not very lucid reasons for not having wanted to marry her.
+
+Just at present he was occupied with the idea of the horses. He felt that
+they would not be apt to go back on the trail unless it was to look for
+water, and water they might find at the bottom of the ravine though the
+underbrush was too dense for him to see it. He could follow their trail
+very easily in the sandy path but he walked a quarter of a mile before he
+found the place where they had struck out of the trail for the bottom of
+the ravine.
+
+Very cautiously he started down, for the going was decidedly bad and he
+had no wish to risk a fall. He trailed the prints, marveling at the
+sure-footedness of the animal which can follow so hazardous a path.
+
+"I wouldn't dare put a horse down a trail like this," he mused with a
+grin, "and yet the rascals will go down by themselves as smooth as silk.
+Hullo, I guessed right! There is water down here. There's old Jasper
+filling up on it, and the mare, too. Well, I guess we don't walk home this
+trip." And just as Polly, some hundreds of feet above him was trying madly
+to reach the cave, Scott, quite oblivious of impending danger, started on
+his difficult climb, leading the two horses.
+
+"Serve you darn well right, you fellows, if I was to make you haul me," he
+said, as Jasper's soft nose rubbed against his shoulder. "I would, too, if
+I didn't think you'd slide down and break my neck just when my girl needs
+me. Come on, you grafters, shake a leg, will you?"
+
+It was a bad climb. The perspiration rolled off Scott's face and the veins
+stood out upon his forehead. Gasping for breath, he dug his toes into the
+soft earth and plugged ahead, pulling the reluctant animals after him. He
+had nearly gained the top, was within twenty feet, perhaps, of the end of
+the climb, when Jasper began to pull back. They were breaking through some
+brush, Scott being nearly through when Jasper began pulling. Scott gave
+the bridle an irritated jerk and spoke sharply to the horse. As he did so,
+he looked up and saw Angel Gonzales and his band coming down the trail.
+For a second, Scott lost his wits. He took a quick step forward, giving
+the bridle another jerk as he did so. Jasper, naturally aggrieved, pulled
+back again, and Scott, standing on a loose bit of rock, slipped, tried to
+right himself, slipped again, overbalanced, fell and rolled down--over
+boulders, through brush, falling ever faster as he tried to regain a
+foothold.
+
+Both bridles had been wrenched from his hand as he fell and the horses,
+half scared, half inquisitive, followed him a few steps and then returned
+to the munching of grass, behind the clump of brush.
+
+Angel Gonzales, a large, brutal-looking man, his face covered with a black
+beard, his clothes bearing the mark of many a scuffle, swung down the
+trail in the lead, his particular crony, one Porfirio Cortes, riding
+immediately after him. A little distance intervened between Cortes and the
+other members of the party. Even in bandit circles the line is drawn
+somewhere, and in Angel's band it was drawn immediately after Porfirio
+Cortes.
+
+Angel rode, one leg thrown over his pommel, which enabled him to chat
+comfortably with Cortes. They were talking of Juan Pachuca.
+
+"A slippery one, that," Cortes had remarked, keenly. "I don't believe he
+means to throw in his lot with us. When I see him do it, I will
+believe--not before."
+
+"Why not? I have more men than he has. He needs men. All he has is this
+understanding that he brags of with the new government."
+
+"Lies, _amigo_, lies! His record with Carranza is against him."
+
+"Well, all men lie," replied Angel, tersely, and with probably no
+intention of plagiarism. "Anyhow, we can do some good fighting together.
+There will be some fine pickings when we get the old man out of Mexico
+City. Think of the money, the fine clothes, the women!"
+
+"Yes, I think of them," replied Cortes, meditatively. "But I think also of
+Obregon. I hate that man. He hung a cousin of mine, once, for less than
+what you and I did to those Yaquis. Also, he has persecuted Villa."
+
+"Well, so will I persecute Villa if I ever get a chance," replied Angel,
+cheerfully. "The fat thief! Think of the gold he has hidden in these
+mountains! Hold--what is that? Down in the canyon? Horses! Is it troops,
+do you think?"
+
+"Troops--in a hole like that? It might be those Indians--an ambush!"
+
+"It would be like the devils. I don't see them now."
+
+"You saw Soria's burro, most likely. Your nerves are bad, as the gringos
+say." Both men grinned and rode on. Suddenly, they heard a crashing sound
+of scattering stones that rose even above the noise made by their horses.
+Angel threw up his head in alarm, very much as a horse does when he scents
+danger. "It is the Indians," he said to Porfirio. "We must not be attacked
+in this narrow place. Forward! Ride! The Yaquis are upon us!" he cried,
+driving the spurs into his horse. He was followed by Cortes, who in turn
+was followed by the others. The entire band gave a vivid moving picture of
+a reckless run down a narrow trail, by a hundred men, any one of whom
+would have considered it utter madness had he been alone.
+
+Marc Scott, stopped by a mesquite bush near the bottom of the canyon, lay
+for a few moments where he had fallen, literally too shaken to move. When
+he realized what had happened to him, he crawled to his feet and listened.
+All was still. The sounds from above had ceased, and a cloud of dust
+hovering over the trail was the only evidence that he had not imagined the
+passing of a crowd of men.
+
+"By golly, I believe they didn't hear me after all!" he gasped. Then the
+thought came to him of Polly--alone on the trail above him. A sickening
+fear shook him; how could she possibly have escaped those men? In a blind
+fury he started to climb the ravine. It had been hard going before--now,
+in spite of his body, stiff and shaken, he did not feel the effort. His
+face was purple with heat and exertion, his hands were bloody with the
+cactus he had clutched when falling, but his terror for the girl dwarfed
+all physical discomfort. Panting and choking, he forged ahead. If he could
+only reach Jasper he would follow that cloud of dust until he knew what
+had happened to the woman he loved.
+
+Jasper and the mare, uninfluenced by motives either of fear or anger,
+still grazed by the clump of brush and allowed the almost exhausted Scott
+to lead them back to the trail. He mounted Jasper, and turned the mare
+loose. He started down the trail after the vanished band at a pace quite
+as reckless as their own.
+
+"Marc! Marc Scott!" Polly's voice rose desperately as she saw him
+disappearing down the trail. "Come back here!"
+
+Scott turned, bewildered, to see Polly running wildly toward him. She
+flung herself upon him and upon Jasper before he could dismount, pouring
+out the story of the men who had gone down the trail.
+
+"And the worst of it was," she wept, stormily, "that I didn't even try to
+warn you. I just made for that cave and hid myself. That's the sort of a
+girl I am."
+
+"Did you, honey? Do you know, that strikes me as mighty sensible? I don't
+hold much with girls saving men's lives outside the movies, where they're
+well paid for it. It strikes me life-saving is a man-sized job."
+
+"But you're all scratched! What in the world----"
+
+"I had to roll down the hill to dodge 'em," chuckled Scott, as he caught
+the mare and helped the girl to mount her. "I'll tell you about it after a
+while; just now I think we'd better be on our way."
+
+They rode on in silence, back over the trail and around the curve past the
+imitation cave which had sheltered Polly. Scott eyed the horses with
+inward pessimism.
+
+"They're never going to make it," he thought. "They're about all in now.
+Wish I knew whether to camp out and go on in the morning or to keep on
+pushing. If I was alone I'd bed down for the night but I hate to ask her
+to spend a night in the open unless I have to. Well, we'll go on a
+while."
+
+They rode on, the tired horses going more and more slowly and responding
+less and less readily to urging. The trail did not go all the way down
+into the canyon, but met a rocky ledge which crossed it like a natural
+bridge. It was narrow and it was slippery with loose stones, but the girl
+took it silently. She was too tired and hungry to be afraid. The two
+sandwiches seemed things belonging to another life. She tried to smile
+when Scott looked back at her but it was hard work.
+
+They came off the ledge onto the side of a hill which formed a part of the
+second range of mountains. The spot, green as a deer park, was directly on
+the side of the hill, about half-way up. Around it were trees--pines and
+live oaks. The trail seemed to have disappeared altogether. Scott had
+dismounted and was waiting for the girl to come up.
+
+"What's the matter?" she demanded, anxiously.
+
+He dropped his horse's bridle and came to her side. "I've a question for
+you, best girl," he said, his hand on the pommel of her saddle, "These
+horses are hardly fit to climb this next range. They might do it and make
+the rest of the trip to-day if we urged them but it ain't a square deal.
+Then, too, it would be dark before we got there.
+
+"This is a place where we could stay. There's pasture for the horses and I
+think that little stream that I found down in the canyon starts from up
+here somewhere. If we go on we may make it and again we may get tangled up
+in the mountains after dark, which I don't fancy. I'm no forest ranger,
+you know. Shall we stay here till three or four o'clock in the morning or
+shall we plug ahead? It's up to you."
+
+Polly turned an appalled face toward him. "But, Marc, you don't mean to
+stay here--in this place--all night?" she said, faintly.
+
+"Well, it won't be exactly all night. It's nearly five o'clock now and we
+could start at daybreak."
+
+"But--why, we haven't anything to stop with! No tent and no blankets and
+nothing to eat! It would be rather dreadful, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Well, not dreadful, exactly. We've the blankets under our saddles, and
+you have your long cloak. I'll build you a fire. Of course there's nothing
+to eat except the rest of the sandwiches."
+
+"Well, perhaps--it would be pretty bad to get lost up here after dark.
+There might be mountain lions or mad skunks. They do have mad skunks out
+here, don't they?"
+
+Scott chuckled. "Search me, honey, all the skunks I ever met were mad.
+Come on down and we'll have a look at the country."
+
+"Marc," Polly looked down at him, her eyes soft, "I'm wondering what I
+would have done if those bandits had gobbled you."
+
+"I don't let bandits gobble me when I'm escorting ladies," replied Scott.
+Then meeting her eyes, the twinkle faded out of his. "You'd better say
+what would I have done if you hadn't hidden in that cave." His head rested
+for a moment against her knee.
+
+"I don't know. Seems as though things were being managed for us, doesn't
+it?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+He lifted her to her feet and she looked around her curiously.
+
+"It's a pretty place," she pronounced. "I hope you're right about the
+water. I saw a little stream way up in the mountains when I climbed to the
+cave."
+
+"I'm going to let Jasper find it for me," replied Scott. He had the
+saddles off the tired horses in a few seconds and they lay down and rolled
+happily, drying their sweaty backs in the dust. When they got to their
+feet again, he took the two long ropes from the saddles and fastened them
+around the horses' necks.
+
+"Are you going to tie them up?" demanded the girl.
+
+"Not now. Going to let them drag the ropes around. I can catch 'em easy
+that way. Guess they're too tired to go far."
+
+The horses had smelled the water and made for it. It ran in a trickling
+little stream down the hillside about a dozen feet away, hidden by some
+brush. Once refreshed, they were easily led back and began to feed on the
+coarse grass. Scott shook out the blankets.
+
+"They're a bit horsey," he admitted, "but they'll keep you warm. I put
+them under the saddles instead of the regular saddle blankets because I've
+been caught out this way before. A man learns things in this country." He
+handed Polly her long coat and she slipped into it. "This isn't exactly
+the time of year I'd pick for a camping trip," he added, "but we'll do, I
+reckon. Do you want to eat the sandwiches now, or do you prefer dinner at
+six?"
+
+Polly eyed the two big sandwiches with a serious eye. "Let's look at them
+a while first," she said, hungrily. "Isn't there any way of getting
+anything else? Can't you shoot something?"
+
+"I don't see anything but you and me and the horses. What's the matter?"
+For the girl had given a shriek of joy.
+
+"In my coat pocket! A cake of chocolate that Mrs. Van put there--and the
+sugar. I always bring it for the horses. We'll keep the chocolate for
+breakfast, shall we?"
+
+They ate the sandwiches and topped off with the sugar. "Which," said
+Polly, seriously, "is very strengthening. I've heard that they feed it to
+the Japanese army."
+
+"Yes, I've heard that, too," assented Scott, "but I reckon that's not all
+they feed 'em."
+
+"Well, it's not all you've been fed, either, so don't grumble," said the
+lady, practically.
+
+"I think," said Scott, rising, "that before it grows dark I'll investigate
+this trail a bit. It looks sort of blind to me. If we have to start by
+moonlight it'll be just as well to have some notion of where to begin."
+
+Polly leaned back against a tree and watched him lazily. He looked very
+strong and capable. She recalled Joyce Henderson's graceful proportions
+and smiled. She had had to come a long way to find the man she wanted but
+she was well content. It was odd, she reflected, that she and Joyce
+Henderson, who had known each other all their lives, were like strangers
+once they attempted the more intimate relation; while for this man whom
+she had known but a few weeks she felt a sense of familiarity, of
+belongingness, that she could scarcely believe. She was trusting him now
+in a way that she had never imagined herself trusting any man and yet she
+felt at ease.
+
+Scott, returning, threw himself down beside her. "I've found the trail,"
+he said, "but we've got some traveling ahead of us. Don't look to me as if
+anybody'd been over it since Gomez was."
+
+"Didn't those men come this way?"
+
+"No. They must have hit the trail lower down--from some place we've
+missed. I'll swear no crowd like that have been where I've just been."
+
+The girl looked at him gravely. "Do you think we ought to go back?"
+
+"Back? No, I don't. Those folks are waiting for us at Soria's and I want
+to get Tom started for them as soon as I can."
+
+"I wonder if those men will make any trouble at Soria's?"
+
+"I don't believe so. If it was Angel Gonzales, he's heading for your
+gentleman friend's place and he'll be in a hurry."
+
+"Why do you go on calling him my gentleman friend?"
+
+"Well, you think he's some kind of a guy, don't you?" demanded Scott, with
+a grin. "Pretty manners, soft voice, nice long eyelashes--all that kind of
+thing?"
+
+"Yes, I do," replied Polly, stoutly. "I like Juan Pachuca and I believe
+he's been led away by bad company. I believe what he told me about that
+treasure, too. I only wish I'd made him tell me the name of the border
+town where it was."
+
+"Women are queer," remarked Scott, with more truth than originality.
+"Well, Polly Street, I think I'll gather the wood for your fire."
+
+Together they gathered the loose twigs and branches--they were not many,
+but eked out with pine cones would make a fire for a few hours, and Scott
+made Polly's bed close by it. He put his rubber poncho on the ground and
+made the girl wrap herself in both blankets.
+
+"I've got a heavy sweater under my coat," he said, "and I'll have to keep
+moving a good deal to look after the horses and keep the fire going." And
+he refused to take a blanket, much to Polly's dismay. "Curl up and be
+comfortable, girlie, and relax. It don't matter if you don't sleep if you
+can relax."
+
+Polly tried to comply, but she was too much interested in what was going
+on around her to give up either to sleep or to relaxation. The crackling
+of the fire and its wonderful odor, the little hushing noises of the birds
+going to rest, the gentle coming up of the moon and the myriads of stars,
+all were too fascinating to risk missing in sleep. Scott had gone after
+the horses and had tethered each by a long rope in a place where feeding
+could be attended to, and had come back to the fire and thrown on some
+more wood. He sat smoking with his feet nearly in the fire and his face
+lit by its glow.
+
+"I suppose you've spent lots of glorious nights in the open?" asked Polly,
+wistfully.
+
+"A good many. Some of them not so glorious, either. One night up in New
+Mexico----" he paused to light another cigarette.
+
+"Go on," demanded the girl. "When you say 'one night up in New Mexico' I
+feel just as I used to when my father used to say 'once upon a time.'"
+
+"Well, I don't know why I happened to think of this special night,"
+grinned Scott, "except that on most of my out-of-door nights I've been by
+myself--out hunting and that kind of thing--and this one I had somebody
+with me. It was when I was mining in Colorado, and some fellows I knew had
+a big cattle ranch down in New Mexico. It was a real ranch--not a two for
+a cent one like Herrick's. I went down to visit them at round-up time. I'd
+never seen a round-up before so I was hanging around every chance I got.
+
+"They had a lot of cattle--some of them pretty wild--and it wasn't easy to
+keep 'em together especially at night. Well, one day Jim Masters got a
+fall from his horse and a kick on the head from another when he was down,
+and he was in a pretty bad state--it looked to us like concussion of the
+brain but we didn't know. We carried him into a tent we'd put up about a
+quarter of a mile from where the cattle were, and one of the boys rode to
+town for a doctor.
+
+"We were up on a mesa, like the one we crossed yesterday, remember? We had
+outlaw cattle in the bunch and it took all the boys to handle them. I,
+being a tenderfoot and not much use with the cattle, said I'd sit with Jim
+and sort of watch him till the doctor came. He was out of his head so
+'twasn't any comfort to him but it made the boys feel better."
+
+"I'll bet it was a comfort to him, Marc Scott! You are the sort of person
+it would be a comfort to have around if one was out of one's head," said
+Polly, emphatically.
+
+"Thank you, honey; I'm afraid you're jollying me. Anyhow, I stayed with
+Jim and while he lay there groaning I sat in the doorway of the tent and
+smoked--wasn't anything I could do for the poor boy. Man, that was a
+night! The mesa just like a big green table spread under the sky--what is
+it that lunger poet said--'under the wide and starry sky'? Well, that's
+how she looked. Mountains all around, moon blazing away showing up the
+cattle at the other end of the mesa, not a sound except the river, one of
+those busy little rivers that keep it up night and day. If I'd known
+something of cattle I wouldn't have thought that stillness was so pretty,
+but I didn't. I hadn't even noticed that the cows had stopped
+bellowing--it seemed like a night that ought to be still.
+
+"When, all of a sudden, I saw a movement in that bunch of cattle. It was a
+stampede. That's what they're cooking up, you know, when they're still
+like that. Before I'd realized what had happened they began to bolt--and
+in our direction. It was just exactly as if one of those old bulls had
+said to the crowd: 'There's a couple of stiffs in a tent down by the
+river, boys, let's rush 'em.'
+
+"They came down that mesa like all heck let loose. The electricity in
+their hides had made a sort of blue haze--phosphorescent, they call
+it--and it gave 'em an awful look. Of course, the boys hadn't let them
+start a stampede without doing anything to stop 'em. They were riding
+round 'em, yelling and shooting into the air, but on they came.
+
+"Well, it was no place for me and Jim. It began to look to me as if that
+doctor was going to have his trip for nothing, but what could I do? I
+couldn't go off and leave Jim, and when I tried to pick him up he fought
+me so I had to drop him. 'Twouldn't have done much good anyhow because
+there was no place to go. So I said to myself: 'Sit tight, old man, and if
+you can't die game, die as game as you can.'
+
+"On they came like a lot of mad things. Then, all at once, when I'd about
+given up hope, the boys got 'em to milling. You know how they do that? Get
+'em started to going round and round instead of straight ahead and the
+fools will go till they drop in their tracks. When I saw 'em doing that I
+knew that Jim and I weren't slated for Heaven that night so I sat still
+and enjoyed the sight.
+
+"It was one wild sight. You can read about stampedes till your head aches
+but you've got to see one to know how she feels."
+
+"What an interesting life you've had, Marc, and all I've done was to drive
+a Red Cross ambulance around Chicago and win a few golf trophies,"
+murmured Polly, sleepily.
+
+"Well, that depends. Perhaps it's been interesting, but it ain't been
+easy."
+
+They sat in silence for a while and then Scott saw that the girl had
+fallen asleep. He smiled as he put more wood on the fire.
+
+"Funny that she and I should find each other out of all the world," he
+meditated. "Just one nice girl and one no-account chap drawn toward each
+other. Some folks call it Fate. I didn't mean to do it and maybe I'm going
+to wish I hadn't--but just now I'm satisfied."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+TOM DOES A MARATHON
+
+
+That Jimmy Adams survived the operation of probing to which he was
+subjected by Li Yow was to Tom Johnson evidence of an almost miraculous
+skill on the part of the Chinese doctor. Tom knew very little of
+operations. His life had been a normal one and the grisly sight which he
+was called upon to witness would have altogether unmanned him had it not
+been for Mrs. Van's timely nip. As it was, he came out of the room
+extremely depressed.
+
+Depression was a mood which in Tom Johnson usually led to action. In this
+case his first move was to visit Cochise. It did not brighten his outlook
+upon life. Cochise was in no state to travel, that was evident. He was
+tired and stiff and his back showed signs of soreness. Rest was
+undoubtedly what his case demanded.
+
+"If you was a society dame, your doctor would send you to Miami for a
+month and say cut out all mental strain," soliloquized the engineer,
+bathing the back gently. "Being as you're a horse, the best we can do is
+to turn you out to pasture for a while. Well, I'm no fancy rider, God
+knows, but nobody can say I ever give a horse a sore back. That blanket
+was pretty nigh off your tail when he brought you in. Any white man would
+have stopped and fixed it."
+
+He sauntered back to his cabin and sat down to think. Tom was tall, over
+six feet, and very thin. His skin was brown and his straight black hair
+which he wore rather long, not because he liked it, but because he
+disliked the Conejo barber, gave him rather an Indian look. His clothes
+hung loosely on him, lending very little to his personal charm, and when
+he sat he usually sat on his spine, a practice deplored by beauty doctors.
+When O'Grady came along a few minutes later, he was deep in thought.
+
+"Say, what do you think of this here business over at Casa Grande?"
+demanded the latter persistently. "Think the Doc's lyin'?"
+
+"Why should he? Besides, he was scared. He most put old Cochise out of
+commission. He saw something all right."
+
+"Think it was Pachuca?"
+
+"No. Why should Pachuca come back after he'd cleaned 'em out once?"
+
+"Yaquis?"
+
+"Might be. And ag'in it might be the rebels."
+
+"Who is the rebels now? Johnny's bunch?" asked O'Grady.
+
+"Search me. I suppose this here state of Sonora is fighting the rest, but
+I don't see that they've got any call to burn an Englishman's property.
+This here Mrs. Conrad's English, too, ain't she?"
+
+"No, she ain't English, she's good plain American, Came from Boston, same
+as Hard," said O'Grady.
+
+"Well, don't an American woman lose her nationality when she marries a
+foreigner?" demanded Tom, wisely.
+
+"She'd ought to if she marries an Englishman," replied O'Grady,
+belligerently. "But don't she get it back if he dies?"
+
+"Hanged if I know! Woman's suffrage has come up since I left home,"
+replied Johnson, placidly. "Anyhow, I'm going to walk to Conejo and see if
+I can't find out something about Casa Grande."
+
+"Walk? Holy Moses! I'll go with you."
+
+"No, you won't. Somebody's got to stay here and look after Mrs. Van and
+Jimmy. The Doc can't fight and Williams don't think of anything but the
+store. You and Miller have got to do the rest."
+
+"Why don't you go to Casa Grande? It's nearer."
+
+"What's the use? What could I do? If I go to Conejo, I can pick up Mendoza
+and his car and mebbe some fellers to go along and make a posse. Of
+course, if they're cleaned out--but I'm figurin' that they ain't."
+
+"Sure. You got to do that," replied O'Grady. "When you goin' to start?"
+
+"Soon as I can get Mrs. Van to put me up some chow."
+
+"Well, good luck to you--and the rest of them. I'd sure hate to think of
+them folks of ours massacred by a bunch of greasers," and O'Grady strolled
+sadly away.
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt was washing dishes when Johnson stopped in with his request
+He prefaced it with an inquiry about the invalid.
+
+"Oh, he's doin' all right, I guess. Doc's give him something to make him
+sleep. I'll say this for the man--he's a good doctor. He means to be a
+doctor while he's here, too. Nothing doing on the cooking job."
+
+"No?"
+
+"No, sir! I asked him something just kind of casual about pies and you'd
+have said he'd never heard of one. Distant as anything! I suppose I can
+stand it if he cures Jimmy. Where you going?"
+
+"Going to walk to Conejo."
+
+"Walk!"
+
+Tom repeated his plan. Mrs. Van wiped her eyes on the dish towel. "You're
+a good man," she said, simply. "I wish I could go with you."
+
+"I ain't feeling as brisk as I'm letting on about this business, Mrs.
+Van," continued Tom. "What that Chink saw don't listen good to me."
+
+"Nor to me. When I think of those girls--well, I ain't going to think of
+them. After all, Tom, there's more ways for folks to get out of trouble
+than there is for them to get in. I've always noticed that. When I was
+married, I had a husband who knew more about getting into trouble than any
+living man, and I used to notice that he always went about it in just the
+same kind of ways--drink, cards, and women; but when I had to get him out
+of it--why, Lord, there were a million different ways I had to manage.
+There are loads of ways for smart folks to dodge trouble and our folks are
+smart."
+
+Johnson started for Conejo about noon. It was not the hour he would have
+selected for a long walk in a warm climate, but he had no choice. He did
+not try to make very rapid progress during the afternoon, his idea being
+to get in his best work at night; so he rested whenever he struck a shady
+spot. A stranger coming along and spying Tom stretched under a tree, with
+his sombrero covering his face, would not have associated him with
+reckless speed. He ate his supper slowly, thanking Heaven for the
+invention of the thermos bottle, and then started for the long pull.
+
+It was cool and delightful now and he felt refreshed and invigorated. His
+bundle was light and he swung along at a good clip. In and out of arroyos,
+over little bridges, under fragrant branches of pine--the walk was
+pleasant and the engineer reflected that one sees a good deal from one's
+feet that one misses from the cab of an engine. Prairie dogs scuttled into
+their holes as he approached and chipmunks sat on branches and swore at
+him in sharp little voices. Now and then a far-away but penetrating odor
+reminded him of another night animal on the prowl.
+
+His wisdom in following the railroad track instead of the road was
+evident. It was longer but it led through the mountains at the lowest
+places. Midnight found him nearly out of the mountains, standing, tired
+but not exhausted, on the edge of a decline, looking over miles of the
+semi-flat country to a dark spot where one or two lights twinkled faintly
+and which he knew was Conejo.
+
+"Old Swartz is still on the job," he reflected, as he rolled himself in
+his blanket and settled down for a nap. He had built a small fire and lay
+with his feet almost in it. He stared ahead of him over the road which he
+must travel before he could reach his destination and though his trip was
+only half made he felt as though he were already there, so encouraging was
+the sight of Swartz' night light.
+
+"It's a great country for them that can stand the pace," he murmured,
+sleepily. "I've a notion sometimes to go back to Omaha and get me a wife
+and settle down out here. Picking a woman these days is a risk, though.
+Get a young one, so's you can educate her, and ten to one you get an
+ambitious young brat that wants to spend all your money seein' life. Pick
+a settled one, a widow woman, say, and you get one that knows more'n you
+do and that don't make for happiness in married life. Mrs. Van Zandt's a
+likely woman but she's had one gold brick--'tain't likely she'd want to
+fall for another. Besides, I can enjoy her cooking and her company without
+bein' married to her, and there's times I like right well to get clear of
+her gab," and so he drifted into sleep, snoring comfortably before his
+fire went out.
+
+It was the middle of the afternoon when Johnson, tall, gaunt and tired,
+stalked into Swartz' store at Conejo where he found a situation for which
+he was not prepared. Conejo was under martial law, and from every doorway
+he saw the interested faces of women and children who stared at the
+soldiers as they went by or stood talking in groups. The jail had a
+military guard while the office of the local _jefe_ swarmed with uniforms.
+Outside stood a motor truck and two large automobiles, quite dwarfing
+Mendoza's Ford, which, having been requisitioned, also stood near by, its
+wrathful owner lurking in the distance keeping an eye on his treasure.
+
+In Swartz' store the fat owner was still in his accustomed seat, while the
+usual loafers still persistently loafed, but there were soldiers
+everywhere.
+
+"Whew, this is something new for Conejo!" whistled Tom. "I reckon I'd
+better have a word with Dutch before I horn in. Say, Swartz," he said,
+pushing a crowd of youngsters out of the way, "got anything to drink? I've
+just walked in from Athens."
+
+"My Gott, are you mad?" inquired Swartz, pleasantly.
+
+"Not yet, but I'm likely to be if I don't get something down my gullet.
+Got any beer?"
+
+"Beer?" Swartz' contempt was sweeping. "Look at dem," pointing to the
+soldiers. "Doos that look like I haf any beer mit dem fellers around?"
+
+"Who are they? Federals or Rebs?"
+
+"De State troops. Don't you know dis here state has--what you call
+it--seceded?"
+
+"Martial law, eh?"
+
+Swartz nodded.
+
+"Did they grab your stuff or did they pay for it?"
+
+"Oh, dey pays--in paper money," replied the German, sourly.
+
+"Well, you're better off than we are. They took our stuff, shot two of the
+boys, knifed another, and blew up our track."
+
+"Who done it?"
+
+"Young Pachuca and his crowd. Say, who's the boss of this outfit?"
+
+Swartz opined that Colonel d'Anguerra, who was lodged in the house of the
+local _jefe_, was in command.
+
+"Good-natured kind of a guy, is he?" queried Tom, anxiously. "Or one of
+the kind that orders out the firing squad if his dinner don't set well on
+him?"
+
+Swartz had seen better natured men than the Colonel, but on the other hand
+admitted that he had seen worse. "He iss a young man," he said, "and he
+ain't got so much sense that it bothers him, yet he tries to keep them
+devils quiet if he can."
+
+"Well, give me a drink of water if you ain't got no beer. I guess I'll
+look this feller up."
+
+"I got some lemon pop," offered Swartz, hospitably. "Them fellers don't
+like it; it ain't got poison enough in it for 'em."
+
+Johnson, having drunk the pop, departed for the official residence. It
+took some time and a good deal of diplomacy to get an audience with the
+military chief, but it was accomplished at last. D'Anguerra was a youngish
+man, tall, thin and sallow. He spoke very little English, but his
+secretary spoke it very well and acted as interpreter, Tom's Spanish being
+several degrees worse than the Colonel's English. The conversation in two
+tongues proceeded through the secretary with dispatch and accuracy.
+
+"I understand that you are from an American mining company located at
+Athens?" the Colonel began.
+
+"I am," replied Tom, a little awed by the other's dignity and the
+threefold nature of the dialogue.
+
+"You have been raided by bandits, eh?"
+
+"Well, I suppose you'd call it that. Juan Pachuca helped himself to what
+he wanted and shot two of our boys."
+
+"Killed them?"
+
+"No, they ain't killed, but one of 'em's likely to lose a leg. He knifed
+one, but the knife was dull and he ain't hurt much. But that ain't what I
+come over here about." And Tom went on with Li Yow's story of the Casa
+Grande raid, the arrival of Scott, Hard and Polly, and the fire. "I dunno
+and he dunno who done the burnin' or what else has happened over there,
+but he says they heard Pachuca say somethin' about meeting Angel Gonzales,
+and I guess you know who he is. I thought mebbe you could let me have a
+car and a posse and I could go over and see what's been done."
+
+The Colonel and his secretary conversed together for a few moments, Tom
+listening anxiously but quite unable to get the thread of the talk.
+
+"You see, Colonel," he continued, anxiously, "I dunno if this little
+revolution of yours is going to turn out the real thing or not; but
+there's one thing you can be darn sure of if it does, and that is that one
+of the first letters your new president's going to get in his official
+mail is going to be a bill of damages from Washington and whatever's
+happened to our folks is going to be wrote down in it."
+
+Colonel d'Anguerra smiled patiently. "I will tell you, señor, what I know
+about the affair at Casa Grande. According to this dispatch, a regiment of
+Sonora troops passed by the ranch on their way south. They saw flames and
+heard shots. A band of Yaquis who had been driven from their village by
+one Angel Gonzales were burning and looting. The troops' orders were for
+haste and they did not stop to find out the extent of the damage but
+called off the Yaquis. You perhaps know that those Indians are excellent
+soldiers and that there are many of them in our army."
+
+"You mean to say they didn't go over to see if anything had happened to
+the women folks?" demanded Tom, aghast.
+
+"Their orders were positive. They could not take the time. To-day we have
+news that some of our troops have crossed the Sinaloa border. These men
+who passed Casa Grande were on their way to Hermosillo to guard the
+capital."
+
+"Well, it does look like you were pulling it off, don't it?" Tom's voice
+was admiring in spite of himself. "What beats me, señor, is how you manage
+to pump enough enthusiasm into these fellers to keep them fighting. You've
+been at it nearly ten years now. In my country we'd either have put it
+through by that time or given it up as a bad job and pretended we'd never
+wanted it anyhow."
+
+The Mexican laughed. "My friend," he said, seriously, "people will fight
+for more than ten years with the hope of liberty and a good government
+ahead of them. This time we hope to get both."
+
+"Well, I hope you do. It's too good a country to go to the dogs. But about
+this Juan Pachuca----"
+
+"He is no business of mine," replied the Colonel, briefly. "He was out of
+favor with the Carranza government and evidently hopes to get into the
+saddle again through the revolution. Personally, I do not believe he will.
+General Obregon is not fond of his type. Angel Gonzales is what you call
+in your country a regular bad lot. I have orders in this dispatch to look
+into his case. As to the automobile. I can give you an order for the car
+which you saw outside--the small one. I can't spare any men."
+
+"Mendoza's Ford?" groaned Tom. "I knew I'd draw that. Well, never mind,
+señor. I'm obliged to you just the same."
+
+The order written, Mendoza was induced to start. "What the devil are those
+for?" demanded Johnson, as he saw the old Mexican putting three large cans
+in the car.
+
+"Water," replied Mendoza, tersely. "Las' time I drive him ze radiator he
+leak. I mend him, but _quien sabe_? We play safe, eh?"
+
+"My God, yes," murmured Tom. "Come on, _amigo_, it's near six and this
+here's no country to be rattlin' round in a damaged Ford after dark."
+
+The little car justified its owner's faith in it, however, for it went
+along at a good clip. The road from Conejo was fairly good and they made
+good time. The sun was down and the evening had set when they reached the
+place where Scott and Polly had taken the trail. Mendoza stopped the car.
+
+"Lots of men been by here," he said. "Soldiers or bandits--mebbe bot'."
+
+"What d'ye mean?" demanded Tom, waking up. "How can you tell?"
+
+"Don' have to be Injun to know dat. See tracks," grunted Mendoza. "Mebbe
+hundred men come here from trail, _amigo_."
+
+Tom looked. The banks of the river were broken and trodden by the feet of
+many horses. Even in the dim light he could see that, though he would
+never have noticed it for himself. He admitted when Mendoza persisted that
+it did look as though a large party of horsemen had crossed the river.
+
+"Well, they've passed anyhow, so we should worry. Got a gun?"
+
+"_Si_," grinned Mendoza, cheerfully, "I always got a gun."
+
+"Hold on, what's this?" They had come around the corner and saw, by the
+edge of the road, the wrecked wagon. "That's Herrick's wagon," said Tom,
+excitedly. "In the ditch!" He got down and went to investigate.
+
+"Wheel's busted. Horses must have got scared and bolted round the curve,"
+said the engineer, meditatively. "Nothin' in the wagon. Looks bad to me;
+don't it to you, Mendoza?"
+
+"_Si_," responded Mendoza. "We go by Soria's place. He know mebbe what
+happen."
+
+"All right," assented Tom, sadly. "If they'd got away on the horses seems
+to me we'd have seen or heard somethin' of them on the road. Unless they
+went by the trail--in that case them fellers on horseback would have met
+'em. Well, step on your gas, Mendoza, and let's get to Soria's."
+
+Soria's place was empty. Not a child, nor a dog, nor a burro. Not a sign
+of life on the place anywhere. This was a blow and intensified Tom's
+gloomy fears. He did not speak as they drove on to Casa Grande. The moon
+was coming up and they saw the badly burned ruins of the barn as they
+turned in.
+
+"Ze house is lef'," said Mendoza, consolingly.
+
+"Yes, it is," said Tom. "But look at them windows! Riddled with bullets.
+The boys must have put up a good fight with them Indians, anyhow. Tell you
+what, Mendoza, I'd give a good deal to see old Scotty's ugly mug in one of
+'em! Come on, we may as well go in," and he stepped apprehensively out of
+the car.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+AT SORIA'S
+
+
+Hard and Mrs. Conrad stared at each other in whimsical dismay as the other
+couple rode away. Then they looked at the suitcases carefully tucked away
+in the brush.
+
+"Not much of a hiding place," observed Hard, "but it's better than leaving
+them in the wagon."
+
+"And decidedly better than carrying them all the way to Soria's," replied
+Clara. "Safe enough, too. It isn't once in a coon's age that anybody
+travels around these places. Funny, isn't it, when you think of all the
+crowded spots there are in the world?"
+
+"It reminds me," said Hard, with a reminiscent chuckle, "of a yarn. I was
+in New Mexico on a hunting trip with Joe McArthur--you remember the Boston
+McArthurs who had a ranch near one of the Apache reservations? Well, we
+rode up to the agency store to ask old Slade, the trader, about an Indian
+guide.
+
+"We got him and started out the next day. We were riding up among the
+pines--great tall fellows, a regular park of them; not a living thing in
+sight except the birds, not a sound except the river. McArthur and I were
+riding behind Charley, the guide. We'd been arguing rather aimlessly as to
+whether an Indian had a sense of humor or not; Joe thought they hadn't,
+while I contended that they had.
+
+"The quiet of the place rather got us. McArthur took a silver dollar from
+his pocket and said: 'Hard, I believe I could lay this dollar on that
+stump over there and come back here in a year and find it there.' Old
+Charley turned around, his wrinkled face twisted into a grin. 'No,' he
+said, 'no find him nex' year. Mr. Slade he get him nex' morning.'
+
+"Well, Charley got the dollar and McArthur admitted that I had the right
+of the argument."
+
+"That sounds to me just like a McArthur of Boston," said Clara, severely.
+"An Indian without a sense of humor! Just because they don't see fit to
+howl over the fool things a white man howls over, I suppose." She did not
+speak again for some time, then she burst out tempestuously:
+
+"Henry, why did you begin talking about Boston? Do you know, I've been
+more lonesome for the dear old place in the last twenty-four hours than
+ever before? I wonder if seeing you has made me homesick?"
+
+"I hope so," said Hard. "It's time for you to go back to Boston, Clara."
+
+"Perhaps; but I shall come back here. Once this country gets on its feet I
+can sell for a decent price. There's going to be a rush to Mexico some day
+when people find that they can come without risking their lives and their
+money."
+
+"Do you think that time is coming soon?"
+
+"I hope it is. This last move looks hopeful. If Obregon can establish a
+good government, he will. Of course, our people will have to be patient.
+At any rate, I'm going to risk it."
+
+"Yes," smiled Hard, "you would feel that way, of course."
+
+"Money getting isn't such an ugly business, Henry, when you risk
+something. It puts a bit of romance into the thing. I think I rather
+despise people who make money just by sitting in an office and guessing
+right."
+
+"Clara, how old are you? Sixteen?"
+
+"I don't mind telling you that I'm older than I look, and it's a wonder to
+me after the hard knocks I've had. Well, do you think you can hobble back
+to Soria's?"
+
+"Let's wait a little longer. I could wish it a little cooler."
+
+"If you'd wear a sombrero instead of that white thing----"
+
+"Can't. I'm not built for a sombrero. Makes me look like the villain in a
+show."
+
+Clara burst into laughter.
+
+"Henry," she said, "what an absurd world this is once a human being cuts
+loose from his original moorings!"
+
+"Yes? It's an almighty hot world when he cuts loose from a roof and an
+ice-water tank, I've noticed."
+
+"I'm not thinking of ordinary things--I'm thinking of you and me and
+Boston," pursued Clara, firmly.
+
+"Clara, I can stand a good deal, especially from you, but if you insist
+upon talking about Boston I'm likely to do something that we'll both
+regret."
+
+"I was just thinking that if you and I had stayed in Boston, in our own
+little niches, as our kind of people usually do, what would we be doing?"
+went on Clara, meditatively.
+
+"I would be having a gin fizz at the club," said Hard, pensively, "to be
+followed possibly by a game of bridge and a dinner--a real, human dinner,
+not just food--at my brother John's."
+
+"If I had stayed where I belonged, or where everybody said I belonged when
+my father died and the family income disappeared," said Clara,
+persistently, "I would be teaching music in a girls' school, and planning
+a trip to Italy with a lot of other middle-aged spinsters. Instead of
+that, I put all that I had into a two years' study in London and Paris and
+fell in with a wandering Englishman, married him, and here I am."
+
+"Well, I'm glad you didn't stay where you belonged, Clara, for quite apart
+from the pleasure of your company, which under sane conditions I find very
+delightful, I don't seem to see you in the rôle of a middle-aged spinster.
+Still, you might easily have been one. I know some charming girls in
+Boston who have gone that path."
+
+"So do I," soberly. "Some of them so much more charming than some of my
+married friends that I don't quite get the idea. Some of Nature's
+blunders, I suppose. Well, shall we start?"
+
+"We'd better. I think it's going to be some walk."
+
+They plodded along in silence. This time Hard broke it.
+
+"Clara, do you think that youngster is good enough for Marc Scott? You're
+clever enough to judge people even on a short acquaintance."
+
+"Heavens, Henry, what a question!"
+
+"I admit it's crude. Theoretically, any nice girl confers a tremendous
+favor on the man she marries merely by so doing; man being inherently
+vile. But, Clara, honestly, man to man, how many nice girls one knows who
+would be the deuce to live with!"
+
+Clara's eyes twinkled. "Henry," she said, "you're perfectly right, of
+course, but man to man, do you think you've any right to assume that the
+ones who aren't nice are any pleasanter--taken as a steady diet?"
+
+"Well, no, if you put it like that. But, I mean--well--this Polly
+youngster, of whom by the way I am very fond, I don't know why, she's as
+spoiled as the deuce, has had very little education----"
+
+"She graduated from Wellesley, so she tells me."
+
+"Truly? How well they cover it up these days! In my youth, you knew when a
+woman was well educated."
+
+"And avoided her. That's why they learned to cover it up."
+
+"Don't be trivial. What I mean is this. Scott is an unusual fellow. He's
+brought himself up from nothing, with only a boost here and there from
+someone who recognized his worth. He's rough and he's odd, but he has a
+mind. He will always be a man of importance in his community."
+
+"I admit all that; but it doesn't imply that he's too good for Polly."
+
+"No, but after all, what does a spoiled society girl of twenty-four know
+about a worth-while man, anyhow?"
+
+"Oh, my dear Henry, wake up! You aren't living in the Victorian period.
+She knows a lot more about everything than you think, and well for her
+that she does. Girls of to-day may be daring, they may be over confident,
+they may be hard, but at least they know something of the world outside
+their own environment. After all, life's a tricky job for a woman--don't
+begrudge her a little folly before she undertakes it."
+
+"I don't. I like frivolous girls--in a way; but I don't like to see a man
+with a brain marrying a kitten."
+
+"Polly Street isn't a kitten. She's never had to consider anything more
+serious than a golf course, but she'll make good when the time comes.
+She's shown that since she's been here. But, Henry, why this sudden
+interest in match-making? Has he, by any chance, asked your valuable
+advice?"
+
+"Good Heavens, no!"
+
+"Match-making, you know, belongs to middle age. Young people are too
+self-centred to bother with it. I wonder if we're nearly there? I'm
+dead."
+
+"Well, my aching feet tell me we are, Clara, but my manly intelligence
+suggests that if we've covered one-third of the distance we're mighty
+lucky."
+
+"That's about what I thought," groaned Clara. "How's your knee?"
+
+"Peevish but possible. Shall we take a rest?"
+
+"Oh dear, yes, and a bite."
+
+They topped the next rise. It was decidedly a rise and commanded a wide
+view of the flat part of the country. At a little distance rose a live oak
+whose low branches offered a slight shelter from the sun. A cooling breeze
+played about them, kicking up spirals of sand, and a prairie-dog village
+manifested eager interest in their presence. They ate their sandwiches and
+Hard returned to the subject of Scott and Polly.
+
+"Do you think--you being a woman and acute in such matters--that he's
+asked her yet?" he said.
+
+"No, I don't; they both look too edgy. He's going to, however, and she's
+going to take him, I think. I'm not sure. She may be flirting."
+
+"If she flirts with Scott, I'll have her punished," declared Hard,
+indignantly.
+
+"Well, maybe she won't. She's a bit of a minx, though, and while she's
+young she's no infant. Some girls have to do the world's flirting, Henry,
+because the others won't--or can't. It wouldn't do to have things made too
+easy for you."
+
+"They are not," said Hard, with meaning.
+
+"Well, this isn't getting to Soria's." Clara rose hastily. She looked back
+over the road. "It looks like people back there--dust flying. Do you
+suppose it's more troops?"
+
+Hard stared. "No," he said, finally, "it's only the wind."
+
+"Yes, I guess it is," assented Clara. "Let's be moving."
+
+It was slow going--a lame man and a tired woman--both unused to walking
+even under favorable circumstances. It seemed to Clara Conrad as she
+looked ahead at the wearisome stretch of road, as though they made no more
+progress than a couple of ants crawling up a mountainside.
+
+"Do you think we'll ever make it?" she said, stopping for a long breath at
+the top of a small rise.
+
+"We've got to," said Hard, simply, "What else is there to do?"
+
+Clara did not answer but looked longingly back toward the spot in the
+cottonwoods.
+
+"Don't play Lot's wife, Clara; keep on looking forward. It's our only
+hope."
+
+"Lot's wife always appealed to my sympathies," said Clara, pensively. "I
+think she was probably a settled sort of a woman, married to one of these
+men who like change. It must have irritated her awfully to have to pack up
+and move when she was so comfortable. Oh, Henry, that's not wind blowing
+the dust! It's men--horsemen!"
+
+"It does look like it."
+
+"They're coming this way. I don't like it."
+
+"Neither do I." Hard's voice was anxious. "If we had a bit of
+shelter----"
+
+They looked anxiously about, but the flatness of the country offered no
+opportunity for anything larger than a gopher to hide. Trees and bushes,
+alike too small for shelter, and little rises of land, hard enough to
+climb but easily visible to anyone on horseback, were all that offered
+themselves. In the distance an arroyo looked promising, but it was far and
+the line of riders very near.
+
+"We've got to make a break for it, anyhow," said Hard, at last. "It's off
+the road. It's our only chance; that, and the possibility that they may be
+troops and in too much of a hurry to stop for the likes of us. Come on."
+
+Clara sighed and quickened her pace. They left the road and struck across
+country toward the arroyo.
+
+"I don't believe they're troops," she said. "There aren't enough of them.
+Oh, Henry, suppose it's Angel Gonzales and his men!"
+
+Hard shrugged his shoulders. "They may very well be," he said. "But we'll
+hope they're not. Let's be optimistic as long as we have a straw to
+clutch."
+
+Clara did not answer. She took another look at the rapidly advancing line
+and felt, not unreasonably, that the straw was a weak one even for the
+clutch of an optimist. They dug in, weary as they were, making small
+progress, but with hopeful eyes bent upon the distant arroyo. At least
+they were going in a different direction from the riders. Hard limped
+painfully. His face was set in lines of determination--or was it pain?
+Clara wondered. She stopped suddenly.
+
+"Henry," she said, firmly, "this is folly. Those men must have seen us.
+They're able to overtake us if they want to, and if they want to do
+anything to us, they will. We can't help ourselves. I'm not going another
+step. I'm going to sit down here and see what happens." As she spoke, she
+sat down on a tree stump. Hard laughed ruefully.
+
+"Well, I suppose you're right," he said. "They've got us, if they want us.
+We'll hope they don't." He sat down on the ground beside her, feeling very
+much as though he would never get up again.
+
+So far the horsemen had given no indication of having seen the fugitives.
+They were fox-trotting along, in twos and threes, for the road was fairly
+wide. There was no air of discipline about the party, nothing to indicate
+that it was of a military character. As they came opposite the fugitives,
+who had struck off the road at a right angle, they stopped, in obedience
+to a signal from one of the two riding ahead.
+
+"They've seen us!" breathed Clara.
+
+"And are wondering whether we're worth while," supplemented Hard. "Ah,
+here they come!"
+
+The result of the conference reached, the two leaders of the party
+followed by half a dozen men struck off toward Clara and Hard. The others
+waited in the road. They came at a good gait, their badly fed horses
+responding to the ugly spur with a nervous speed which covered the hilly
+space in seconds where Hard and Clara had taken minutes to crawl.
+
+"I'm afraid they're not troops," observed Hard. "They wouldn't take all
+that trouble for a pair of strangers. It's Angel, or someone of his sort.
+Well?"
+
+"Well?" Clara smiled bravely. "There's nothing to do but wait. Better let
+me talk to them; I have the language better in hand, I think. If it's
+money they want we may as well give them what we have to buy our
+freedom."
+
+"By all means." Hard grinned. "I've got ten dollars. It won't buy
+much--even of freedom, I'm afraid."
+
+"Most of mine is in express checks, tucked away in a sheltered spot," said
+Clara, frowning. "I don't believe they'd want them--Pachuca didn't.
+However, I have a little to offer." She handed him her handbag.
+
+Angel Gonzales, closely followed by Porfirio Cortes, drew up beside the
+odd-looking couple sitting by the wayside. The other men lingered within
+hearing. Angel opened the conversation in his native tongue.
+
+"Who are you and where are you going?" he demanded, his shifty black eyes
+gleaming from his weather-beaten face.
+
+"And why?" growled Cortes. "When the country is upset, the place for
+foreigners is at home."
+
+"Yes, we know it is," said Clara, placatingly. "But your country, you
+know, is almost always upset. This gentleman, Señor Hard, is connected
+with the mining company at Athens. I am from the South, and on my way to
+the border."
+
+"Where are your horses?" said Angel, suspiciously.
+
+"A young man named Juan Pachuca raided the ranch where we were visiting
+and took all the livestock," replied Clara, eyeing the swarthy fellow
+quietly.
+
+There was a hurried colloquy between the two Mexicans and a laugh from
+Gonzales.
+
+"You are not going toward Athens," he observed, drily.
+
+"No, we're not," replied Hard. "We're heading for the Soria place just at
+present with the idea of borrowing their burro to ride and tie." He had
+risen and was leaning heavily on his well leg.
+
+"Humph! It is a long walk to the Soria place," grunted Angel. "You're
+lame?"
+
+"Yes, temporarily."
+
+"Humph!" Angel turned to his men. "Here, two of you double up and give
+these people horses," he commanded curtly. Apparently, he was one of those
+leaders whose word is law, for two of the men rolled their horses and led
+them toward the two Americans who stared at them in astonishment.
+
+"We go by Soria's," said Angel, gruffly. "We will take you that far."
+
+"Thank you, but I think----" Clara began weakly, but stopped as she felt
+herself being seized by one of the men and lifted roughly to the saddle of
+a wiry little gray horse which was dancing around in a most disconcerting
+manner. It was a time for self-preservation and not for protest. She
+grasped the pommel desperately with one hand and the reins with the other,
+while her feet were being thrust into the straps of the stirrups--the
+stirrups themselves being too long.
+
+She was badly scared, for the horse gave every indication of being
+unmanageable; and very miserable, for her skirt pulled in a most
+uncomfortable and unsightly fashion. There was nothing to do, however, but
+to make the best of it; for having helped her mount, the man who did so
+climbed up back of one of his fellows and abandoned her to her fate. Hard,
+in the meantime, had mounted another rough-looking but more conventionally
+disposed beast, and the procession started back to the road, the two
+Americans side by side, surrounded by the Mexicans; Angel Gonzales
+leading, and Porfirio Cortes bringing up the rear.
+
+"It may be a friendly lift, but it looks more like a case of abduction,"
+said Hard, wrathfully. "Can you hold that brute, Clara?"
+
+"I hope so," she said, her lips a bit white. "I think the poor thing is as
+scared as I am; probably never saw skirts before in his life."
+
+"Don't try to hold him too tight. He's probably got a tender mouth,
+judging from the way he fidgets."
+
+"Well, I suppose he has, but if I don't hold him, he's going to land me
+over somewhere in those foothills," said Clara, faintly. "He's got the
+most awful little rack I ever rode. Henry, do you suppose that fellow is
+Angel Gonzales?"
+
+"Can't say. He's an ugly-looking ruffian whoever he is."
+
+"Hush, here he comes! He may understand English," shivered Clara.
+
+Angel grinned as he came back to them. "The señorita does not ride very
+well," he said, mockingly. Clara did not reply.
+
+"I suppose," she reflected, with a gleam of humor, "that I ought to be
+grateful to be taken for a 'señorita,' but how can I be grateful for
+anything when I'm being rattled to pieces?"
+
+Angel joined himself to them and they rode three abreast. He began to ask
+questions; questions which plainly were designed to inform him as to the
+financial standing of his guests or his prisoners whichever he chose to
+make them.
+
+"He's as persistent as a society reporter," growled Hard, under his
+breath, as Angel relinquished his place to one of his men and fell back to
+ride with Cortes. "It's a case of ransom, all right."
+
+"Shall we make a break for it?" whispered Clara. "If I let this thing go
+he'll be over in the foothills before you can whistle."
+
+"No, they'd shoot. Better not risk it."
+
+"But, Henry, I can't stand it! And I look so! I never was so altogether
+wretched in all my life," groaned Clara.
+
+"Be patient, that's a good girl, until we see what they're going to do."
+
+"If that devil's face is any index to his character, he's going to do
+something awful."
+
+Angel Gonzales, in fact, was justifying Clara's opinion of him.
+
+"The woman has money and property, and so, I think, has he," he said to
+Cortes. "If they have money, they have friends, and friends will pay,
+eh?"
+
+"Sometimes," admitted Cortes. "But we are in a hurry, _amigo_. If Pachuca
+has come this far, he means business. We had better be on our way to meet
+him."
+
+"Yes, that's so. Our horses are not strong enough to carry double, either.
+We'll leave the Americanos with Manuel Soria and pay him to keep them for
+a few days until we know what we want to do with them, eh?"
+
+"Not bad," agreed Cortes. "Manuel is a good deal of a fool but his woman
+is smart. Give her a gun and she will know how to use it. She will do it
+for me because I make love to her now and then," he added, with something
+which in a civilized being would pass for a simper.
+
+"Humph, she'd do it for me because I'll pay her some good money and
+promise her more," said the unsympathetic Gonzales.
+
+By this time they had reached the Soria cabin, much to Clara's relief, and
+the party dismounted. The cabin door was closed, and Angel, who evidently
+wasted no time on the little courtesies of life, raised his pistol and
+fired into it. Clara caught her breath in horror.
+
+"Those babies!" she gasped, clutching Hard.
+
+"I don't believe they're in there," he whispered. "I don't see a sign of
+life--not even the burro."
+
+"Henry, they've gone to town to spend the money that Mr. Scott gave them
+this morning!"
+
+"That's it. They've taken the burro along to bring home the supplies.
+Don't say anything; let them find it out. It's not our funeral."
+
+It was soon apparent that the Soria family had gone--root and branch.
+There was no response either to Angel's rude salutation or to the search
+which followed.
+
+"They're in a hole," chuckled Hard, shrewdly. "I'll bet you a dollar that
+they meant to leave us here and pay the Sorias to hold us. Now, they've
+either got to take us along or leave a guard for us, which is what they'll
+probably do."
+
+"You don't think there's any chance of his letting us go?"
+
+"Does he look like a chap who lets anything get away from him? Well, I'm
+glad he's worried, anyhow."
+
+Angel Gonzales was worried, no mistake about that. The Sorias had upset
+his plans exceedingly. He did not want to burden himself with prisoners;
+his horses, fed only on the scant growth of the land, were in no condition
+to carry double. He did not want to leave any of his men behind, because
+he expected to need every one of them in his proposed campaign. On the
+other hand, he hated to give up the dazzling prospect of a ransom. He had
+never played the ransom game, but he knew the ropes and he longed to try.
+
+"Who's that coming up the road?" demanded Cortes, breaking off a dialogue
+with his chief.
+
+A man--or, as it developed at closer range--a boy, a very ragged boy,
+riding a sweating horse, was tearing madly in their direction. Boylike, he
+pulled his poor beast to its haunches and gave what was intended for a
+military salute as he saw the redoubtable Gonzales.
+
+"Well, what's the matter? Who are you?" demanded that gentleman,
+unencouragingly.
+
+"Señor Juan Pachuca----" gasped the panting messenger, "he sends me to say
+to Captain Gonzales to make speed. He waits--at his _rancho_. He has news
+of the revolution," finished the boy, proudly.
+
+"News! Humph, is that all he's got?" demanded Angel, promptly.
+
+"Men, and horses and plunder--oh, much plunder!" The boy's eyes shone.
+
+"So? That's better, eh, Cortes? Shall we go, or----"
+
+"Señor Pachuca says to make speed. Much speed," reiterated the messenger.
+"The troops went South only last night."
+
+"We had better go," said Cortes, eagerly. "We can make the _rancho_ with
+hard riding by morning. That is, unless you burden yourself with those!"
+he gestured scornfully toward the two Americans.
+
+Angel hesitated. Like Scott, he hated changing his mind. Also, the ransom
+loomed large; and he liked the woman's looks--liked her manner of talk.
+With her dark hair and eyes, and her soft voice, she was like one of his
+own people----only much more charming, he reflected, with a gleam of the
+eye.
+
+"Señor Pachuca says----"
+
+"The devil with Señor Pachuca!" exploded Angel, menacingly. "Go back and
+tell him----" But the messenger had already gone. His horse's feet were
+pattering down the side of the hill at a rate which argued panic in its
+rider. A laugh rose from the men, and Angel, guffawing himself, sent a
+parting bullet over the boy's head.
+
+"Cheerful man, isn't he?" muttered Hard. "Never mind, Clara, he didn't hit
+the boy. It's evidently only his little joke."
+
+"Monster!" Clara's black eyes snapped.
+
+Apparently the little joke had cleared Angel's mental atmosphere, for
+without further explanation, he turned and with a rough: "Get on your
+horses--we'll go!" swung onto his mount. Cortes, with a grin of relief,
+passed the word on:
+
+"To horse!" And in a second the party was mounted. Hard and Clara stood
+watching, ignorant of what part they were to play in this new move. No
+attempt was made to mount them, which was in itself encouraging, nor did
+there seem to have been anyone detailed to stay and guard them. There was
+another confab between Gonzales and Cortes, which resulted in the latter's
+coming toward the two Americans and saying, gruffly:
+
+"Captain Gonzales regrets that he cannot escort you further but he is
+called suddenly to the front." There was a pause, then, with an impudent
+grin, he continued, "Of course you know that in time of war, all alien
+property is confiscate? You will give me what money you have."
+
+"Oh, yes, give it to him, Henry, please!" Clara's voice was eager. She
+pressed her little handbag into Cortes' willing hand. Hard shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+"All right, old man, it's not much, and if I thought you'd buy a good feed
+for those horses of yours, I'd hand it over with my blessing. As it is--I
+hand it over."
+
+Cortes took the money very much as a conductor collects his fares----with
+no comment but a ready hand. He also took a diamond ring which Clara had
+thoughtlessly put in the bag for safe keeping and the watch which Hard
+carried. Then without further words, he swung his horse around and at a
+command from Gonzales, the whole crowd swept furiously down the hill.
+
+"Henry, they've gone! Actually gone--and taken that vile gray horse with
+them!" gasped Clara, faintly.
+
+"It looks like it," responded Hard. "But unless I'm a lot mistaken, they
+didn't mean to go until that boy came with his message."
+
+"Well, blessings on the head of Juan Pachuca who sent him!" murmured
+Clara, wearily, as she started for the cabin.
+
+"Do you want to stay outside or go in?" asked Hard, pulling a chair
+forward on the veranda.
+
+"Outside, please, as long as we can stand it," said Clara, with a little
+shiver. "I don't believe I'd care for Grandmother Soria's housekeeping."
+She peeped into the family _olla_ hanging on the side of the house. It was
+full. "Oh, well, Henry, things might have been worse," she smiled as she
+sank into the chair.
+
+"You can bet your dear life they might," replied Henry, with a glance in
+the direction taken by Angel Gonzales.
+
+"See if they've left anything to eat--anything that looks fairly clean."
+
+Hard emerged a few moments later empty-handed.
+
+"Not a thing," he said. "We evidently arrived at the psychological moment
+for this little family. That ten dollars Scott gave them will tide them
+over till Carlotta finds another beau."
+
+"But wasn't there anything to eat?"
+
+"Not a bone. Mother Hubbard's cupboard was a cafeteria compared to
+Grandmother Soria's. Draw in your belt and forget it."
+
+"Why did we eat so much this afternoon? They left us the biggest part of
+the luncheon. Henry, we are pigs," moaned Clara, wanly.
+
+"I know. We're not the sort to be cast on a desert isle, I'm afraid. If
+the Sorias get back to-night----"
+
+"They won't. They'll stay and make a night of it."
+
+"Perhaps the hungry feeling will wear off after a while," said Hard,
+hopefully.
+
+"I wonder? I've often thought I'd like to try a fast. One hears of people
+doing it and having such odd and fascinating sensations," said Clara,
+thoughtfully.
+
+"My sensations are odd," replied Hard, "but they are distinctly not
+fascinating."
+
+They sat quietly for a while, watching the clouds hovering over the
+mountains, sometimes over the peaks, sometimes nestling in fleecy patches
+half-way up.
+
+"The trail they took crosses about where that gap in the mountains is,"
+said Clara. "Under that first cloud, so Mr. Scott said."
+
+"Pretty high."
+
+"Yes, they'll have to do some climbing." Clara sighed softly. Hard felt an
+unreasonable desire, almost an angry desire to take her in his arms. It
+was a feeling unlike him, usually so moderate in his emotions.
+
+"Clara," he said, softly, "were you thinking of him when you sighed?"
+
+Clara started. "Him!" she echoed, helplessly.
+
+"Yes, Dick Conrad."
+
+"Not exactly, Henry. I was thinking of that terrible trip we took through
+the mountains--yes, I was in a way thinking of Dick."
+
+"You were very happy together, weren't you? You were awfully in love with
+him, I mean. I'm not being impertinent, am I, Clara? You know I don't
+intend to be."
+
+"No, Henry, I understand. I don't believe I'm the kind of woman who falls
+in love--at least, in the way most people mean. There's nothing very
+violent about me except once in a while when I get to singing something
+which takes hold of me pretty hard.
+
+"Richard and I had a rather exciting little love affair, then after a
+while we both began to realize that we weren't very romantic--in regard to
+people. He was passionately devoted to adventure of every kind, and I had
+a way of putting my best into music. I didn't feel heart-broken when I
+found out that we really weren't anything more than good friends and
+neither did he.
+
+"I'd cheerfully give all I've got to bring Dick back; I get lonesome for
+him--awfully. And yet, that isn't exactly the sort of thing that the
+average person means by 'love,' is it?"
+
+"It would have made me very happy once to know that you cared that much
+for me," answered Hard, bitterly.
+
+"I did. I always did, Henry. Only we were--so near, so much a part of each
+other--like cousins. I called it friendship instead of love," cried Clara,
+warmly.
+
+"What difference does it make what you call it? Two people like to be
+together, seem to fit into one another's lives, isn't that love?"
+
+Clara smiled. "It's not the kind of love that Polly Street will give the
+man she marries," she said. "You know that as well as I. And it's not a
+matter of years, it's temperament. An actress told me once that when it
+came to a question of comparison between her married life and her stage
+life, she could say instantly that it was her stage life that had meant
+the most to her. She was happily married, too. I'm a bit like her. I can
+get more downright exaltation over my music when it goes right than I ever
+got out of any love affair. I think my talent is for friendship rather
+than for love."
+
+"Clara," Hard's voice shook, "I tell you, you wrong yourself. Neither you
+nor that woman were happily married if--oh, I don't want to be
+maudlin----"
+
+"Bless your heart, Henry, you couldn't be, any more than I could. Perhaps
+it's the New England conscience----"
+
+"I haven't a New England conscience," replied Hard. "My conscience is as
+elastic and pleasantly disposed as an Irishman's. Bunker Hill casts no
+blight upon me."
+
+"Henry, this is all very nice; but I'm dying of hunger."
+
+"Will you be afraid to stay here if I go back to Casa Grande and fetch you
+something?"
+
+"Wild horses couldn't hold me in this God-forsaken spot without you,
+Henry! Don't think of it. I--I'll go with you, though."
+
+"You can't walk it."
+
+"Then I'll die on the road. But how about your knee?" She stopped in
+discouragement.
+
+"What's a knee or two when you're starving to death?" demanded Hard, with
+decision. "Come on, let's start before I get any stiffer."
+
+They started out again, through the half darkness; walking slowly, for
+Hard limped painfully. He had helped himself to a stout staff which he
+found on the Soria veranda and which gave him some assistance. They were
+very silent; Hard, because his mind was still running on Clara's words,
+Clara, because she was honestly puzzled over the situation, and her own
+feelings.
+
+She watched the tall, thin figure, limping along by her side, and again
+the old memories came back, as they had the night before in the darkness;
+memories of the days when he and she had played at love.
+
+"I wasn't in love with him, and yet, seeing him again, after all these
+years, it seems as though I must have been," she thought, gently. "It's
+friendship, and yet it's more than friendship. It's going to hurt
+dreadfully to go away again."
+
+"Clara, one more word before we drop the subject; because I will drop it
+if it troubles you." Hard's voice came quietly through the darkness.
+"Don't let us mistake each other again. I've tortured myself for fifteen
+years, wondering whether I should have let you go as I did, or have tried
+to hold you. Do you think, with fifteen years behind us, that we made a
+mistake?"
+
+Clara's voice trembled as she answered: "No, Henry, I don't. We were too
+young to understand each other. We needed experience--at least, I did. I
+don't know," she added, with a shadow of a laugh, "whether it's the
+romantic situation, my enfeebled condition, or your noble heroism, but I
+never felt more like being in love with you than I do this minute."
+
+"Honestly, Clara?"
+
+"Honestly, Henry. If you give out on the road I shall try to emulate that
+husky woman in history who carried her husband on her back, do you
+remember?" Then, suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. "Henry, you've been
+awfully patient with me. If you really want to embark on the seas of
+matrimony with such a shaky thing as I am----"
+
+"Clara, I never thought it would come about like this or I would have
+smashed this cussed knee ages ago! My dearest girl, my face is dirty and
+yours is dirtier, but I'm going to kiss you, and then we'll take another
+whack at hobbling to Casa Grande."
+
+The ranch-house stood dark and uninviting except for the dim light of the
+fire which shone through the broken windows of the living-room, but the
+sound of the piano came to their ears as they neared it.
+
+"He's composing," said Clara, softly.
+
+"Yes, he would be," said Hard, unsympathetically. "They always do work it
+off that way, don't they?"
+
+"Work what off?" demanded Clara, instantly.
+
+"Anything that happens to them," said Hard, cheerfully. "You artistic
+fellows are queer, you know, Clara. Don't try to wriggle out of it."
+
+"I shan't," replied Clara, promptly. "But let me warn you, my lad, you
+haven't made me want to give up my music yet. I'm still going back to have
+a try at it."
+
+"Bully for you! Of course you are. And I'm going with you, either to help
+you do it, or to make you fall in love with me so deeply that you'll want
+to give it up."
+
+Clara laughed softly and laid her hand on his arm. "Henry, if you can do
+that, I'll be the happiest woman in the world. Please try!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+BACK TO ATHENS
+
+
+Mendoza and Tom walked toward the Casa Grande ranch-house with fearful
+hearts.
+
+"Dark as a pocket," commented Tom. "You set down here, Mendoza, while I go
+around in back." From the side, a faint light was visible from the
+dining-room of the house. "Hullo, what have we here?" ejaculated the
+engineer. At the same time, he saw a man's figure coming toward him; a
+very familiar figure. "Hard!" he gasped, darting forward and knocking the
+load of firewood from Hard's arms with the fervency of his greeting.
+
+"Hullo, Tom!" Hard returned the handshake quite as heartily. "Glad to see
+you. We were beginning to think we were marooned on this place."
+
+"We?" Tom's face lit up. "You're all right? All of you? Didn't none of you
+get killed by them Yaquis?"
+
+"Why, didn't Scott tell you?" demanded Hard, with sudden anxiety.
+
+"I ain't seen Scott sence you all went off together," said Tom, puzzled.
+
+"Hold on! Do you mean to say that they haven't shown up yet? Scott and the
+girl?"
+
+"Well, I left Athens yestiddy morning. You see, I walked to Conejo and
+picked up Mendoza and his car."
+
+"You walked to Conejo!" Hard's voice was awed.
+
+"'Twa'n't much. I took my time. You see, the Chink brought us word that
+there was something going on over here. He seen the barn burning when he
+was up on the mesa, and he didn't know what was up. He pretty nigh killed
+Cochise, so I had to walk. I knew there was no use coming here with no
+horses, so I went to Conejo. They've got martial law there. The Colonel's
+a nice young feller, if he is a greaser, and he loaned me Mendoza and the
+Ford. Now what happened here, anyhow?"
+
+Hard gave a brief outline of their adventures.
+
+"Mrs. Conrad," he said, "is an old friend of Herrick's and mine, who's had
+to leave her plantation in the South, and is on her way home. She is going
+East with Miss Street. She and I tried camping out at Soria's last night
+after Gonzales left us, but we got starved out and we tramped it back
+here, waiting for someone to come after us. I'm lame as I can be."
+
+Clara's face lit up when she saw the three men enter, and she shook hands
+cordially with Johnson and the old Mexican. Then an anxious look came into
+her eyes. Hard, seeing it, spoke quickly.
+
+"Johnson left Athens yesterday before Scott and Polly got there," he said,
+reassuringly. "He walked to Conejo."
+
+"Walked to Conejo!"
+
+"You see, Tom, Mrs. Conrad and I walked here from Soria's and we've both
+been crippled ever since. A walk to Conejo fills us with excited
+admiration."
+
+Tom chuckled. "Well, I always could walk," he replied. "Never done
+anything particular with the other end of me, but I could always depend on
+my feet. Say, folks, Mendoza's got his car outside. How about a quick bite
+and then beating it for Athens?"
+
+Clara turned eagerly to Herrick.
+
+"You'll come, won't you, Victor? I hate to think of your being here alone
+when everything is so upset."
+
+Herrick smiled and patted her hand affectionately.
+
+"You will give me no peace until I do, so I will go," he said.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a sober little crowd that sat around the dining-room table at
+Athens that night. Though their joy had been very great at the safe coming
+of Hard and Clara in Mendoza's car, it had been tinged with gloom at the
+non-arrival of Scott and Polly. Jimmy Adams was reported much improved.
+
+"That Chinaman doesn't cook any more," confided Mrs. Van to Clara. "He's
+had a rise in life and he just sits and meditates. Awful people to
+meditate--the Chinese. What they find to think about I can't see, but it
+seems to make 'em happy."
+
+Clara's mind, however, was upon the absent. "I can't see what could have
+happened to them. They didn't fall in with Angel Gonzales, that we know,"
+she said. "I'm dreadfully worried about them."
+
+"Hello!" It was O'Grady's voice. "Here comes horses down the road--two of
+them. I believe it's our folks." And he bolted out into the moonlight,
+followed by the others.
+
+It was, and a more exhausted and bedraggled couple it would have been hard
+to find.
+
+"Look like a pair of forty-niners," said O'Grady, "on the last lap of the
+trip."
+
+Scott rolled out of the saddle while Hard lifted Polly to her feet.
+
+"Coffee!" whispered the girl. "Is it really coffee that I smell?"
+
+"Gracious, I believe they're starving," gasped Mrs. Van, running into the
+house.
+
+"All we've had to-day is a cake of chocolate and some lumps of sugar,"
+said Scott, briefly. "Look after the horses, O'Grady, will you? They've
+had it pretty rough, too."
+
+He was lame and sore from his fall of the day before, and tired and hungry
+from the day's discomforts, but he managed to say enough to give them an
+idea of what had happened.
+
+"After I climbed out of the arroyo," he said, "I didn't know which way to
+go. If those fellows had got Polly I wanted to go after them; if they
+hadn't--well, I didn't dare take the chance that they hadn't. I was
+pelting down the trail like a madman when I heard her voice calling me
+from up the trail.
+
+"We got on the horses and began climbing again, pretty well pleased with
+our luck, but the horses were all in. They'd been at it since early
+morning, climbing most of the time, and I saw that they weren't going to
+make it. So I picked a good-looking spot near the head of the stream that
+we'd been following, and we camped there for the night, ate the rest of
+our sandwiches, and rolled up in our blankets. It wasn't very comfortable
+but it was a case of needs must.
+
+"In the morning I set out to find the trail again. It had pretty well
+disappeared--choked up by the brush. We fought our way through it all
+morning and finally lost it; struck out higher up on the mountain and came
+out on the barren side near the top. That's all, except that we've been
+going since five this morning on nothing but a cake of chocolate that
+Polly found in her coat pocket and a few lumps of sugar."
+
+"If I were going back to Chicago to live I believe I'd start soup kitchens
+for hungry people," declared Polly, suddenly. "It's the worst thing in the
+world--being hungry."
+
+"If you was----" Mrs. Van Zandt started suddenly and stopped equally so.
+Polly blushed. Scott came to the rescue.
+
+"We may as well tell 'em while we're telling our other troubles," he
+suggested, and Polly told them.
+
+"I'm going home because he won't marry me unless Father consents," she
+said, "and he doesn't seem to think a consent by wire is legal. But I'm
+coming back."
+
+"Well, I wish you good luck, I'm sure." Mrs. Van Zandt leaned over and
+kissed Polly impulsively. "He'll browbeat you a bit but he'll stick by
+you. Guess I'll make some more coffee," and she bounced into the kitchen.
+
+"Gracious! Would you call that a congratulation?" gasped Polly.
+
+"Here's a bona-fide one, my dear," said Clara, gently. "I am sure you'll
+be happy."
+
+The others laughed and joked while Clara and Hard kept their secret to
+themselves. Scott followed Mrs. Van Zandt into the kitchen with some empty
+cups and their voices could be heard talking earnestly.
+
+"Well," said the latter, as she returned, "I'll say I think Mr. Scott's
+idea a good one." By a psychological process quite her own and quite
+unconsciously followed, Mrs. Van had promoted Scott to the dignity of the
+prefix upon hearing that he was engaged to the superintendent's sister.
+"He's hired Mendoza and that junk-pile of his to take you all to the
+border so's you can get a train East without traveling on the Mexican
+railroads."
+
+"It's like this," Scott explained. "Tom says they told him at Conejo that
+the revolutionary government had taken over all the railroads, both
+Mexican and American, and is operating them. Now, we might make the trip
+all right--they say lots of refugees are coming North; but what's the use?
+I'll run over to Conejo and get them to let us keep Mendoza for a few days
+and perhaps we can get some sort of a safe conduct for the road from that
+military guy over there.
+
+"I'd rather have old Villa's safe conduct than any of the rest of them; I
+think it cuts more ice with the population at large. But perhaps this chap
+can do something for us. We'll try to hit the border at Chula Vista--the
+roads that way are pretty fair. Now, Hard, suppose you and I take a turn
+down the road and have a look at Jimmy before he goes to sleep."
+
+"Scotty," they were outside and Hard spoke frankly, "I didn't want to
+speak of it before the others, but Mrs. Conrad and I have made up our
+minds to undo an old mistake. We've going to try life together instead of
+apart."
+
+"I hoped you would, Hard. She's a fine woman."
+
+"When I say an old mistake, don't misunderstand me," continued Hard,
+soberly. "She and Dick Conrad were happy together. She loved him when she
+married him--and she didn't love me. The mistake was mine, in not making
+her love me when I had the chance. I've got the chance again and I'm going
+to make good this time."
+
+"You're very lucky, Hard. Most fellows don't get a second chance--with the
+same woman. Will she come back here with you?"
+
+"I don't know. We're going to be married in Chula Vista and she's going
+home just as she had planned. I can't go, of course, but as soon as Street
+comes back I'll either go to her or she'll come to me. She hasn't given up
+her music and I don't want her to. It's all rather hazy, Scott. I only
+know that I let her get away from me once, and, selfish brute that I am,
+I'm going to tie her to me now while she's in the humor."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+POLLY MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
+
+
+Not far from the Mexican border lies the town of Chula Vista, New Mexico.
+It is a small town, does not even boast of a railroad connection nearer
+than twenty-five or thirty miles, being, like Conejo, on a bi-weekly spur;
+but it is a town of reputation and a not altogether blameable civic
+pride.
+
+It has borne its part in the border warfare with credit. It has
+slaughtered and been slaughtered, one might say, and rather enjoyed both
+proceedings. When, some years ago, a Mexican bandit raided Chula Vista and
+carried off a young woman, the citizens of the town organized an
+expedition, followed him across the line, and recovered the lady, none the
+worse for her experience; which proves not only that Chula Vista is a
+wide-awake town, but that some bandits are not as black as they are
+painted.
+
+Chula Vista, on the afternoon when our party entered it, duly chaperoned
+by the aged Mendoza, presented an everyday appearance. The Chula Vista
+Trading Company was doing its usual business, and, as this was before the
+days of prohibition, several saloons were doing what they could to relieve
+a universal thirst. An ambitious building of brick, the new schoolhouse,
+witnessed the fact that culture was believed in, even pursued.
+
+The other buildings were less imposing. There was the butcher's place, a
+small adobe with a fenced-in yard. As Mendoza's car drove past it, the
+butcher, with sanguinary intentions, was occupied in driving a wise and
+reluctant young steer around the yard. A little further along was the
+Roman Catholic Church--a Penitentes church, by the way, and the little
+house of Father Silva, who officiated. Further still was a long low
+building which had once been a livery stable, but which had been altered
+to meet the needs of a moving picture theatre, and the Commonwealth House,
+kept by Sam Penhallow, who varied the monotony of hotel keeping by
+exercising the duties of sheriff of the county. He it was who had crossed
+the line after the kidnapped young lady. The newspapers had featured him
+as a Texas Ranger, which he was not and never had been, but that was
+rather a near thing for a newspaper.
+
+Penhallow was a tall, thin, brown-skinned man, who wore checked suits and
+who had the long drooping mustache which fiction assigns to the calling of
+a sheriff. Whether fiction is right in this particular, or whether Sam
+wore the mustache to conform with the best standards, is not important. He
+was sitting in a tilted chair, on the narrow strip of flooring which
+served the hotel as a veranda when Mendoza and his party wheezed into
+view.
+
+Penhallow's conventional welcome expanded into real warmth when he
+recognized Scott, who was well known in Chula Vista.
+
+"Hullo," he said, his hand outstretched. "If it ain't Marc Scott! Drive
+you out down there, did they? Well, Mendoza--blamed if I didn't think you
+was dead long ago! No, I don't guess I know the ladies or your other
+friend, but any friend of Scott's has got the keys of the city all right."
+He turned and called into the house: "Mabel, come out here!"
+
+"One of these ladies, Miss Street, is on her way to Chicago," said Scott.
+Polly, restored to good looks by a few days rest and her prettiest lace
+blouse, beamed on Mr. Penhallow with the usual result. "Mrs. Conrad,"
+continued Scott, "is a friend of ours and is going back with the young
+lady. No, we weren't driven out but things are rather bad down yonder."
+
+"Well, you ladies sure have courage, travelin' round at this time," said
+the admiring Penhallow. A tall pretty girl appeared in the doorway and was
+introduced as "my daughter, Mabel, who runs the ranch. Mabel, show these
+ladies the best rooms we've got. Give 'em the bridal soot if you can find
+it."
+
+Hard, suitcases in hand, followed the women into the hotel, while Mendoza
+steamed away to a haunt of his own. Scott sank into an armchair and
+settled himself for a talk with Penhallow.
+
+"That young Street's sister?" demanded the latter.
+
+Scott nodded.
+
+"I heard Bob Street had married a Douglas girl?"
+
+"He did." Scott explained the situation in regard to Polly. "Her people
+are anxious about her and wrote her to come back at once, so we're
+carrying out instructions. The other folks----" Scott paused and surveyed
+the sheriff with an eye that twinkled. "Are you good at keeping secrets,
+Sam?" he said.
+
+"Well, I have kept 'em," replied Sam, modestly.
+
+"Well, the lady is a widow, runs a ranch down South, and the tall chap is
+our chief engineer, a Boston man. They're up here to get spliced before
+she goes East."
+
+"So! Well, no reason why they shouldn't, I s'pose?"
+
+"None that I know of."
+
+"I kind of had a hunch 'twas her and you when you got out of the car,
+Marc."
+
+"Me!"
+
+"Yes. You needn't blush. You ain't too old to think of settlin' down if
+you pick a woman that ain't too young and giddy for you."
+
+"I'm not asking your advice on matrimony, you old fool, I'm asking if
+you've got anybody in this one-horse place who can marry folks legally,"
+said Marc, touchily.
+
+"The judge could, I guess, but in a case like this there'd be more tone to
+it if you had the Padre. We haven't got any Protestant fellow here just
+now," replied Penhallow, meditatively.
+
+"The Padre's the boy. I'll go over and interview him now."
+
+"You can't. He's to a christening at some Mexican's up the creek. Won't be
+home till late."
+
+"Well, morning's as good a time as any, I reckon, for a wedding," said
+Scott, philosophically. "We've got to stay over anyhow, to see the women
+off. Tomorrow's your train day, ain't it? Or have you changed your
+schedule?"
+
+"No, we haven't changed it," replied Penhallow. "Only we don't run on it
+much. We will to-morrow, though, because I'm sending a lot of hogs over."
+
+"That's good. Say, what do they think up here of the revolution?"
+
+"Which one?" with a chuckle.
+
+"The new one. Looks like the real thing down yonder."
+
+"Well, of course, we were looking for trouble before the elections. We
+never expected the old man to keep his hands off the ballot box and
+everyone knows the man he put up--Bonillas--has got no show. It'll be
+Obregon, I s'pose?"
+
+"It's hard to say. I was in Conejo a couple of days ago and they said
+Sinaloa had followed Sonora and a good many of the other states would fall
+in line in a few days. Obregon's broken away from Mexico City--guess you
+heard that--and they're talking of De la Huerta for provisional
+president."
+
+"Know him? De la Huerta?"
+
+"I've seen him. He's a young chap--some folks think he's a radical--I
+don't know."
+
+"Had any trouble at your place?"
+
+Scott narrated the proceedings of Juan Pachuca at some length and with
+some heat. "A military guy over in Conejo told me that he'd had orders to
+clean up the state, so when Tom wised him up to the fact that Pachuca and
+Angel Gonzales were doping it up to meet somewhere around Pachuca's place,
+he sent a troop of men down there, cut Angel off and smashed up the whole
+business."
+
+"Get their men?"
+
+"Got Angel, but Pachuca slid out."
+
+"They let him probably."
+
+"Maybe so."
+
+"Framed it up for him so's not to hurt the feelings of any of his
+high-toned friends."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder. What time do you eat around here, Sam?"
+
+"How'll six suit you?"
+
+"Suits me fine. I'll go and break it to Hard that he can't get married
+till morning. I suppose this Spanish chap won't object to marryin' a
+couple of Presbyterians? That's what they say they are."
+
+"Gosh, no, the Padre's a regular fellow," replied Penhallow, easily. "You
+give him his fee and he ain't going to raise no rows."
+
+The dining-room of Sam Penhallow's hotel was a fair-sized room with one
+long dinner table and three small round ones. These latter were a
+concession to the habits of certain citizens who brought their sweethearts
+on the nights that Sam served chicken suppers and who were partial to
+parties carrés. It was to one of these small tables that Scott led his
+party. Altogether, thanks to the efforts of Mabel and her influence upon a
+certain invisible person whose identity changed often but who was always
+to be identified as the "help," things were much better at the
+Commonwealth than one had a right to expect in a town the size of Chula
+Vista. Compared to Conejo, it was like entering into the promised land.
+
+Mabel, herself, waited at table, and in the just opinion of most of the
+boarders, added fifty per cent, to the pleasure of the occasion. On this
+particular night the room was full and she had the assistance of a smiling
+young Mexican girl who waited on a company of her compatriots who sat at
+the farthest of the small tables. They had just ridden in--their horses
+could be seen outside at the rail. The back of the head of one of these
+gentlemen interested Polly immensely. There was something about it which
+reminded her strongly of Juan Pachuca.
+
+"Do those Mexicans live in Chula Vista?" she asked Mabel, under cover of a
+laugh at one of Hard's stories.
+
+"No, they're strangers," replied the girl. "I think they come from a ranch
+out of town."
+
+Of course it couldn't be Pachuca! He was in hiding somewhere down yonder,
+and yet--the party was on her mind and she noticed it as it broke up and
+the men passed out of the dining-room. She caught a side view of the
+suspected one--it was Pachuca, without a doubt. Whether he saw her or not
+she could not say but if he did he avoided showing it.
+
+The girl's first inclination was to call Scott's attention to the Mexican;
+then she hesitated--it would mean trouble. There would be fighting and
+someone would be hurt. Scott's back was toward them and he talked along
+quite innocent of the presence of Pachuca. While she hesitated the moment
+passed, the Mexicans were out of the room and she saw them mount their
+horses and ride off. Scott and Hard were still deep in argument. Whether
+Clara saw or not Polly could not tell.
+
+"Marc," Polly stopped beside him as they left the dining-room, "I've a
+nasty little headache--shall you mind if I go to bed?"
+
+Scott, a bit surprised, replied in the negative and Polly went on, her
+hand on his arm coaxingly:
+
+"Did you find out that the train goes to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do I have to go on it?"
+
+"There's no other way that I know of for you to go home."
+
+"You won't come with me?"
+
+"I can't leave the property when your brother's away; you know that."
+
+"Well, I suppose you can't. It's very trying, isn't it?"
+
+"It's not what I'd like." Scott, in spite of himself, smiled down into the
+serious eyes.
+
+"Well, if I were as big as you and didn't like a thing, I'd change it,
+that's all. Good-night." She ran up the stairs.
+
+Scott shrugged his shoulders and strode into the office of the hotel; the
+Commonwealth boasted no parlor--guests sat in the office or went to bed.
+Clara and Hard stood near the desk talking to Penhallow. Scott lit a
+cigarette and went outside. The narrow strip of veranda was vacant. He
+walked moodily up and down.
+
+Of course, if she had a headache--but it seemed queer to leave a fellow so
+early on their last evening together for no one knew how long. Perhaps she
+wouldn't come back after all and he would wish that he hadn't given the
+old life a chance to call her and keep her. Then he thought of the
+parents--never having had any of his own as far as memory went, Scott felt
+their claims strongly. He wanted the girl; wanted her so badly that his
+whole being ached to take advantage of her youth and impulsiveness; to
+make the wedding in the morning a double one.
+
+But Scott had not lived a hard life without learning to do without a thing
+if he chose to do without it; the thing might be a drink, it might be a
+horse, it might be a woman. Still, Polly might have stayed down and walked
+with him a while in the moonlight--it wasn't much to ask. Hard and Clara
+had come out, the latter muffled in her long cloak, and were walking down
+Chula Vista's main artery toward the Padre's church. With a muttered
+exclamation, Scott dug his hands into his pockets and went inside.
+
+"I suppose I can sit in the office and gab with Sam," he growled, but Sam
+had disappeared. Scott picked up a newspaper and lit another cigarette.
+Suddenly, the door opened and Clara, visibly excited, appeared, followed
+by Hard.
+
+"Mr. Scott, what do you think? We've just seen Juan Pachuca," declared
+Clara.
+
+"Sure enough? I suppose he could slide over the border if he wanted to.
+Where'd you see him?"
+
+"He was one of those three Mexicans who had dinner at that other small
+table--so Clara says," replied Hard.
+
+"Your back was toward them," went on Clara. "Henry's never seen him, so of
+course he wouldn't notice. I thought at the time that the man looked like
+Pachuca but I didn't get a good view of him. We were going past that
+little saloon down near the church and they came out and rode off. He
+pretended not to see us."
+
+"Where'd they go?" demanded Scott, with the dryness in his tone which
+always appeared when Pachuca was mentioned.
+
+"Out of town--past the church. I'm going up to tell Polly what she's
+missed," said Clara, as she ran up the narrow little stairway. "Girls have
+changed--not a doubt about it," she thought, whimsically. "Fancy spending
+the last evening they have together moping upstairs with a headache!
+Wonder if anything's gone wrong?"
+
+A few moments later she was back in the office with the two men.
+
+"I can't find Polly," she said, in alarm. "I've been to my room and to
+hers and she isn't in either. Her hat and coat are gone, too."
+
+Scott came out of his chair with a bound. "I knew that devil was here for
+no good," he said, starting for the door.
+
+"Don't be a fool, Marc Scott!" Clara's voice was sharp and angry. "We saw
+Pachuca and those two men go off on horseback. He hasn't carried off
+Polly!"
+
+"I didn't say he'd carried her off," said Scott, doggedly. "She sat where
+she could see him at dinner. You saw him--so did she--and he saw her. This
+riding off is a blind----"
+
+"You're going to be terribly ashamed of yourself for what you're saying. I
+know that girl. She wouldn't do a thing like that any more than I would.
+I'm going to see Mabel Penhallow and find out what she knows about it,"
+said Clara, angrily.
+
+"I'm going to find that boy and choke the life out of him. Get out of my
+way, Hard."
+
+"Look here, Scotty, that's not the way to handle this affair,"
+remonstrated Hard, barring Scott's progress toward the door and speaking
+with a warmth unusual to him. "Let's get hold of Penhallow and tell him
+that Pachuca's over on this side----"
+
+"I don't need a sheriff to handle my affairs."
+
+"This isn't your affair, it's the Government's. If this chap's got the
+nerve to think he can come over here after the way he's acted with
+American property it's up to the Government to put him right."
+
+"I can't find Mabel." Clara had returned, her face worried. "The Mexican
+girl said she saw an automobile go by a quarter of an hour ago and that
+Polly was in it. A Mexican was driving and she thought there was another
+man in the car. Marc, he has kidnapped her!"
+
+But Scott had burst out of the room, followed by Hard. Clara, pale and
+frightened, watched them from the window. Scott's blood was boiling. At
+first, stung with a sense of injury at Polly's treatment of him, he had
+leaped to the jealous conclusion that she had seen and communicated with
+Pachuca. Scott was not a model lover. He was not of the type which
+believes always until convinced by proof. He was a hot-blooded, jealous,
+none too good tempered man, who lost his head very easily when he believed
+himself ill-treated. Now that he was beginning to realize that the affair
+might have a different complexion--that the girl had perhaps been
+overpowered and carried off--he was furious in another way, this time
+against Pachuca and against himself.
+
+Mendoza had left his car outside his favorite saloon but the car was gone
+and so was Mendoza.
+
+"I thought I could trust that old greaser but I guess I was wrong,"
+groaned Scott. "We'll get horses from the stable, Hard, and perhaps
+they'll know something about it there."
+
+Investigation revealed the fact that Mendoza had succeeded in getting his
+car out of town without attracting the attention of anyone but his
+dish-washing compatriot. When it leaked out that there was a kidnapping
+involved, the chivalrous instincts of Chula Vista were aroused. Horses
+were eagerly offered and a posse was to be formed as soon as Sam Penhallow
+could be located. Unfortunately, the only machine in town, owned by the
+sheriff, had been loaned that morning to Ed Merriam who had driven it over
+to the railroad junction. In an incredibly short time, Scott and Hard were
+clattering down the road which the three Mexicans had taken half an hour
+before.
+
+"It's useless, of course," grunted Scott "They'll meet the car and shake
+the horses before we can get to them; but, by God, Hard, I'll get that boy
+if I have to comb New Mexico for him."
+
+Hard was trying to be optimistic, but on a strange horse and with a lame
+knee, optimism came with difficulty. "I may be wrong, Scott," he said,
+between jolts; "but Pachuca doesn't seem to me to be just that kind of a
+scamp. He'd elope with your wife in a second if she gave him an
+opportunity, but I can't seem to see him carrying off your sweetheart
+against her will. There is such a thing as type, you know."
+
+"In Boston, maybe. Out here a man's decent or he ain't," growled the
+other.
+
+Hard relapsed into reflection. The road they were traveling forked at
+about a mile out of town. Ahead of them, it continued on the flat; to
+their left it became narrower and wound toward the foothills, remaining,
+however, a road possible for a car or a wagon.
+
+"Which?" queried Hard, looking ahead as the fork became visible.
+
+"The left," replied Scott. "They'll hit out for the hills. The other road
+goes along the railroad tracks."
+
+"I don't think so," muttered Hard. "I think they'll stick to a good road."
+But Scott had spurred his horse. Hard followed him a moment in silence,
+then he called: "Scott, I hear a machine! By Jove, I see it--it's coming
+toward us, down the main road."
+
+Scott pulled up his horse. They peered into the dusk ahead of them. The
+car was coming toward them.
+
+"You brought a gun, I suppose?" he asked.
+
+Hard nodded. "What do we do?"
+
+"Hold 'em up." They pulled their horses down to a walk. "No headlights,"
+observed Scott. "We'll keep this side of that little rise. If they haven't
+seen us, they won't see us till they're on us."
+
+"We don't shoot, I trust, until we know who they are," suggested Hard,
+mildly. "It strikes me they're going the wrong way for our men."
+
+"They may be going to turn at the fork. If it's not them, it's someone who
+can tell us if the Mexicans have gone this way."
+
+The car, a small one, pulled up the hill and started down toward Chula
+Vista. Scott rode into the middle of the road.
+
+"Stop!" he called, authoritatively. The car stopped. It was driven by a
+fat man who was its only occupant.
+
+"What's the matter with you fools?" he demanded, angrily. "Don't you know
+this here's the sheriff's car?"
+
+Scott lowered his gun. "That so?" he said. "Then I suppose you'll be Ed
+Merriam?"
+
+"What business of yours is it?" replied Merriam, disgustedly, though
+apparently relieved at the removal of the weapon. Hard rode up quickly.
+
+"Nothing, only we're out after a bunch of Mexicans who have kidnapped a
+young lady," he explained. "We thought we had them."
+
+"See anything of a Ford car up the road?" demanded Scott.
+
+"No. Say, who----"
+
+"Or any Mexicans on horseback?"
+
+"No. But----"
+
+Scott turned to Hard. "I told you they'd taken the other road."
+
+"Look here," demanded the fat man, excitedly. "Is this an honest-to-gosh
+kidnapping? I say, it ain't Mabel Penhallow?"
+
+"No, it ain't," grunted Scott. "Will you loan us that car for a couple of
+hours?"
+
+"You bet--pile in. Say, you boys give me an awful start. I'm going to
+marry that girl." Merriam wiped his brow in relief.
+
+"And I'm going to marry the girl those brutes have carried off," replied
+Scott, dismounting and turning his horse loose. Hard followed his
+example.
+
+"Well, why didn't you say so at first?" demanded Merriam, as they got into
+the car. "Man's a gabby animal, ain't he? Which way'd they go?"
+
+"Up in the hills, we think," replied Hard.
+
+"It ain't much of a road," said the driver, doubtfully. "Still, if they
+can make it with one car we can with another, I reckon. Goes up Wildcat
+Canyon after a bit; nobody living up there since that old Mexican died.
+Say, d'you suppose they'd take her up to that old cabin? Gosh, we'd better
+hit it up!"
+
+There was silence in the rear of the car. The two men saw in imagination
+the helpless girl and the tiny remote cabin. Scott leaned forward,
+devouring the road with despairing eyes. Hard sat beside him, quiet except
+when he answered Merriam's questions, sparing Scott, whose impatience and
+irritation made speech unendurable.
+
+The new road led directly into the foothills. It was narrow and very
+rough. The travelers were shaken about like marbles in a boy's pocket.
+Wildcat Canyon, into which the road ran, was of a real loneliness--a
+loneliness that penetrated one's consciousness like an odor or a sound. On
+either side the foothills rose, dark and forbidding; to the left of the
+road a deep arroyo ran; on the other, the slope of the hill rose gradually
+to the sky line. Ahead, the hills seemed to come together as the road
+became narrower and wound in and out, becoming finally a trail. There was
+no trace of habitation to be seen, though here and there a few range
+cattle wandered.
+
+"Cabin's about two miles up the canyon," volunteered Merriam. "Can't see
+it from here, the road winds too much."
+
+Scott interrupted him suddenly. "There they are!" he cried, pointing up
+the road. Three horsemen were riding rapidly in the same direction with
+the car.
+
+"She's not with them, Scott," Hard said, thankfully.
+
+Scott did not answer. In his mind, he still saw the auto with the girl in
+it, going toward the cabin up the canyon. Well, at all events, Juan
+Pachuca would not reach that cabin alive! Merriam threw the car into its
+full speed.
+
+"They've piped us--see 'em cross the arroyo," he said. It was true. The
+three riders had plunged into the depths of the arroyo and were out on the
+other side. They did not seem to be running away, but kept to the rapid
+trot which they had been riding.
+
+"Don't know who we are and aiming to give us the idea that they're out for
+a little moonlight ride," remarked Merriam. "This car can go, can't she?
+Sam'd sure be sore if he knew I was runnin' her like this. Why don't we
+beat it up to the cabin and get the girl and let them mosey along by
+themselves?"
+
+"Because we don't know that's where they've taken her," said Scott,
+angrily. He concluded that Merriam had guessed right. Pachuca had no
+particular reason to believe that the car held his enemies, or even that
+Scott and Hard knew him guilty of Polly's disappearance. They would
+safeguard themselves by riding on the other side of the arroyo but they
+evidently did not intend to be scared out of their road to any further
+extent.
+
+The car was rapidly catching up with the riders and soon things must come
+to a showdown. Scott fingered his gun lovingly.
+
+"Hey, you guys, where you heading for?" demanded Merriam, loudly, as the
+car came almost abreast of the three. They turned as the machine slowed
+down to their pace. Before they could answer, Scott was out of the car and
+had them covered.
+
+"Pachuca, it's no use--we've got you," he called. "Hands up!"
+
+The two Mexicans who evidently understood little English, though the magic
+words, "hands up," probably penetrated their darkness, glanced at Pachuca
+for orders. The latter turned his horse and rode to the edge of the
+arroyo. He was his usual jaunty self, a little travel worn, but not
+dulled.
+
+"Señor Scott?" he asked, peering through the dusk. "What do you want?"
+
+Scott paused for a moment, daunted by the other's impudence.
+
+"We want you, Pachuca," said Hard, peremptorily. "Come quietly and don't
+force us to use our guns--we don't want to."
+
+Pachuca slid gracefully from his horse and took a few steps nearer the
+edge. "What's the trouble?" he demanded. "I won't come over till I know
+what you want. We've got our guns, too."
+
+"He's a cool one!" murmured Merriam, admiringly. While Pachuca had drawn
+the attention of the Americans by his sudden move in their direction, his
+two friends had ridden up behind him and stood with their guns ready for
+action. It looked like a deadlock. Scott dropped his gun to his side.
+
+"All right, put up your guns," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "We'll
+talk it over."
+
+The Mexicans got the idea if not the words and lowered their weapons.
+
+"You know what I want you for," Scott went on, angrily. "Where is she?"
+
+"She?" Pachuca's assumption of ignorance was masterly. It almost convinced
+Hard. "Who do you mean?"
+
+"I mean Miss Street. You've kidnapped her or else your friends in
+Mendoza's car have and you're on your way to join them. We want to know
+where. Come, you can't get away with it."
+
+"I've not seen the girl since that night at Athens--yes, I saw her
+to-night for a moment but I did not speak to her. I am here on business of
+my own with these gentlemen. If you have an officer of the law with you
+I'll show him my papers. If you haven't, I'll go on. If you shoot, we'll
+shoot."
+
+"Anyone would think he had papers," murmured Hard to Merriam.
+
+"Well, mebbe he has. They ain't so hard to get. What I want to know is how
+are we going to get him into the car?"
+
+Scott tried to swallow his desire to choke the slim youth on the other
+side. "Come, Pachuca," he said, "this won't get you anywhere. Either tell
+us where the girl is and go your way, or come over here and fight it
+out."
+
+"I don't know where she is. As for fighting--well, if I kill you what do I
+get out of it? Also, you might quite possibly kill me."
+
+"If I only knew she was in the cabin, he could go and welcome," was
+rushing through Scott's brain. "But I don't and I mustn't let him get
+away."
+
+Suddenly, a sound broke upon their ears--the sound of an automobile. It
+was coming down the canyon and coming fast. Merriam seized his horn.
+
+"We can't have 'em coming down on us in this narrow place!" he cried,
+honking furiously. The other car answered. The Mexicans turned at the
+sound and Pachuca, casting a hurried glance at them over his shoulder,
+reached for his bridle. Scott raised his gun instantly.
+
+"You stay where you are!" he yelled. "If those are your people we'll get
+the lot of you; if they're not we've got you, anyhow, _sabe_?"
+
+Pachuca gave one look at Scott and another at his flying friends. Then he
+threw himself upon his horse's back, thrust the spur in deep, and as the
+horse reared, drew his gun. His shot and Scott's rang out together as they
+had done once before in front of the store at Athens--but with a different
+result. Pachuca reeled, recovered, spurred the horse again and tore off in
+the direction taken by the flying Mexicans; Scott stood looking furiously
+at him for a moment then staggered to the machine.
+
+"He got me, Henry," he muttered, as he toppled over. "Look after the
+girl."
+
+And the other machine came rumbling on through the dusk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+TREASURE TROVE
+
+
+Polly Street went up to her room after leaving Scott but she did not go to
+bed. Nor did she behave in any way which suggested an alarming amount of
+headache. Instead, she opened her window and looked out. Her first glance
+showed Scott pacing scowlingly up and down the narrow veranda. Further
+down the street she saw Mendoza's car parked in front of its owner's
+favorite saloon, next door, in fact, to the butcher's, in whose yard hung
+the remains of the steer--an unhappy evidence of the truth of the adage
+that in the midst of life we are in death. Mendoza was not visible, but it
+needed no stretch of the imagination to locate him.
+
+With a little sigh of satisfaction, Polly withdrew her head and remained a
+moment in thought; then she ran downstairs again. A cautious peep into the
+office showed Clara and Hard in conversation with Sam Penhallow. She
+glided into the dining-room where she found the good-looking Mabel
+finishing the clearing off of the tables. Polly looked winningly into the
+tall girl's eyes.
+
+"I want awfully to speak to your father about something; do you suppose
+you could get him into the dining-room without anyone's knowing? I want to
+consult him in his official capacity," she added with dignity.
+
+"Oh!" said Mabel, surveying her guest calmly. "Do you mean as the sheriff
+or as the boss of this hotel? Because if it's that, you can see me. I'm
+the real boss."
+
+"Oh, as the sheriff, of course," replied Polly, hastily. "Anybody could
+see that you ran this hotel. It's much too well handled to be a man's
+job."
+
+"Well," the tall girl unbent a trifle, "I don't mind telling you that I
+think so myself. Of course, as a sheriff Papa is all right. You wait here
+and I'll fetch him and look after the office till you're through with
+him."
+
+In a moment or two Sam Penhallow entered the dining-room, his good-natured
+face a trifle puzzled.
+
+"Mabel said----" he began.
+
+Polly smiled. "Yes, isn't she clever at managing things? You see, Mr.
+Penhallow, it's a case of 'Kind Captain, I've important information.'
+Won't you sit down?"
+
+Sam sat down.
+
+"In the first place, one of those Mexicans who had dinner here to-night is
+Juan Pachuca--the man who held up our mine a few days ago."
+
+"What? Why didn't you say so before? I'd have----"
+
+"I didn't think quick enough," admitted Polly, "and for another thing I
+knew that if Mr. Scott saw him there would be trouble. He has reasons for
+disliking Pachuca--apart from the raid, at least, he thinks he has." Polly
+blushed in spite of herself.
+
+"I get you," responded Penhallow, instantly.
+
+"I thought you would. You seem to me like that sort of a man. Now, I want
+to ask you something; did you ever hear of a Mexican named 'Gasca' who
+lived around here?"
+
+Penhallow, a little mystified, seemed to be thinking.
+
+"A Mexican who had an Indian wife and who was murdered?" went on Polly.
+Much to her disappointment, this minute description did not seem to clear
+Sam's mind.
+
+"You see, that fits so many of them," he said, apologetically.
+
+"The wife died after he was killed," hazarded the girl, anxiously.
+
+"Hold on--you mean the old duffer who lived up Wildcat Canyon?" demanded
+Penhallow. "Woman had a stroke--they found her up there dead. Their name
+was 'Gasca' or 'Gomez' or something of that kind."
+
+"I knew it!" Polly's voice was triumphant. "If I don't make Marc Scott
+apologize to me----" Then, calming herself, she continued: "I'm going to
+spin you a yarn, Mr. Penhallow, and then you've got to help me out."
+
+"Fire away," said the gallant Penhallow and Polly repeated as nearly as
+she could remember the tale that Juan Pachuca had told her that night in
+Athens. Penhallow's eyes snapped.
+
+"By gum, I bet you're on the trail! He and those Mexicans are looking up
+the stuff."
+
+"Of course they are, but why do they come on horseback? They can't carry
+bullion on their saddles."
+
+"They probably don't more than half believe the yarn themselves," said
+Sam, meditatively. "They're just snooping round to see if there's anything
+in it. And automobiles ain't so common round here that you can pick one up
+every time you feel like hunting treasure, either. I own the only one in
+town and I loaned it to-day to a good-for-nothing guy that's courtin'
+Mabel, worse luck!"
+
+"We've got Mendoza and his Ford," said Polly, eagerly. "If I run up and
+get my hat and coat, will you slip down and pry him out of that saloon and
+the three of us run out to Wildcat Canyon before those Mexicans can get
+there?"
+
+"You bet I will," replied the willing Sam.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Penhallow, you're the kind of man that I admire!" Polly's eyes
+shone. "You've got imagination--it's the only thing Marc Scott hasn't
+got."
+
+"Well," grinned Penhallow, "I wouldn't worry about that if I was you; it
+ain't such an awful good quality to marry. My wife used to kick about it a
+whole lot." But Polly was gone. "I knew it!" chuckled Sam. "I knew Scotty
+was meditatin' matrimony by the way he jumped me. Fine girl, that. For ten
+cents I'd give him a run for his money."
+
+Faced with the alternative of driving his car or allowing someone else to
+do it, Mendoza capitulated and allowed Penhallow to coax him out of the
+saloon. They drove down the street back of the houses and were joined by
+Polly who was waiting in the shadow for them. The Mexican girl saw the car
+as it passed the kitchen window, as she afterward told Clara, but failed
+to recognize Penhallow who sat on the further side.
+
+"Do we have to pass the Mexicans or can we go another way?" asked Polly.
+
+"We can take another road and beat them to the fork," said Penhallow.
+"Then we'll have the canyon to ourselves. This way, Mendoza."
+
+"You know, Mr. Penhallow, this gold was stolen from one of the mines owned
+by our company," said the girl. "That's one reason I'm so anxious to find
+it. It will mean something to my brother."
+
+"Sure it will."
+
+"There ought to be a reward, oughtn't there? Not that I care about that;
+the excitement's enough for me."
+
+"Fond of excitement, are you?"
+
+"I'm afraid so. I'll have to get over that, I suppose."
+
+"Not if you marry Marc Scott," said Marc's loyal friend, quite forgetting
+his sinister intentions. "There's nothing tame about Marc. I'd hate to be
+the woman who tried to fool him. She would have some job on her hands."
+
+"Well, she'd have to be cleverer than I am to do it," sighed Polly,
+sadly.
+
+"Well, I don't know. Say, what's your idea of finding this junk, anyhow?
+Where d'you reckon it'd be? Above ground?"
+
+Polly looked a bit taken back. "I never thought of that," she admitted.
+"It's the first time I ever hunted treasure. Where do you think it will
+be?"
+
+"Well, if you want the truth, I ain't looking for it to be there at all.
+My idea is that Gasca got rid of it and that's why they killed him. And
+yet----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Kind of funny the woman hung around after he died. The natural thing
+would have been for her to have gone back to her people, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Of course it would. I know it's there."
+
+"If you know it's there it's a pity I didn't bring along a couple of
+pickaxes," said Sam, with a grin. "All the treasures I ever heard about
+called for pickaxes, skeletons and an old family chart."
+
+"Oh, have it your own way!" said the aggravated Polly. "But who, I'd like
+to know, would have come up to this lonely place to look for gold, and how
+could an ignorant old Mexican like Gasca dispose of it without getting
+into trouble?"
+
+"Well, mebbe so. Anyhow, here's your cabin."
+
+The cabin was situated up the canyon on the right hand side of the road.
+It was a little wooden shack, sagging and discolored, its windows broken
+and its whole appearance denoting that utter desolation to which only a
+deserted homestead can attain; not even a human wreck can equal this
+silent abandonment. It had been a fairly decent place once; there were
+outbuildings which evidenced past association with pigs and chickens,
+while back of the house stood a wooden cart such as country people use for
+hauling wood or hay.
+
+In the dusk, that saddest of sad times, between sunset and moonrise,
+Wildcat Canyon presented an awesome appearance. The hills were outlined
+sharply and darkly against the sky; the little stream that dribbled past
+the cabin was so quiet that it seemed the ghost of water; there was no
+movement--no sound--no suggestion of life.
+
+Polly drew a long breath. "What a dreadful place to live!" she murmured,
+her spirits dashed for a moment. A woman had lived here--a woman stolen
+from her people. Had lived--and, stricken and alone, had died here. Polly
+thought of her own spoiled and sheltered life and her eyes filled.
+
+In the meantime, Sam Penhallow took in the view with intense disfavor. "I
+never was partial to Wildcat Canyon," he remarked, pessimistically. "I
+caught a cattle thief up here once. He hid behind that rock and gave us a
+real nasty time before we got him. Well, since we're here we may as well
+get busy. Can't you get us a little nearer, Mendoza? This is pretty far to
+tote gold bars."
+
+"Oh, laugh if you want to," said Polly, indulgently. "Since I've seen the
+place I'm sure it's here."
+
+"I'll say this," remarked Penhallow, "if I had anything I wanted to hide
+and didn't want any fools blunderin' into, I couldn't pick a likelier
+place to hide it in than this one--whether it was gold or a body."
+
+Mendoza ran them within a few yards of the hut and they got out. Gasca's
+late residence did not improve on closer inspection. The door hung loosely
+on its hinges and once within, its dark recesses suggested many things not
+altogether pleasant. There was little furniture and that broken and poor;
+the hut boasted two rooms and the floor was merely the ground. There was
+nothing to suggest hidden treasure, and no place where it could be
+secreted as far as the visitors could see. Even the fireplace yielded no
+secrets.
+
+"How stupid of us!" declared Polly, determined not to be discouraged. "Of
+course it wouldn't be in here or they would have found it when they took
+the poor woman away. Let's go outside and think."
+
+"My idea is that it's either buried or they got rid of it," said
+Penhallow, promptly. It had suddenly occurred to him that Mendoza was a
+poor chaperon for a good-looking widower--not old--and a pretty girl
+engaged to Marc Scott. It was a disturbing idea, for Sam was of a
+conventional turn of mind. "If he's buried it, we'll have to dig all over
+the place, and I take it none of us is much on the dig."
+
+"Wait a minute, I've got an idea myself," said Polly, with dignity. "You
+look in the chicken-house and I'll take a peep into the shed in the
+corral."
+
+Sam shrugged his shoulders and started for the chicken-house.
+
+"Scott's gettin' his match all right," he muttered, rebelliously. "Goin'
+to make him toe the chalk line, that girl."
+
+"Mr. Penhallow, come here!" Polly's voice was shrill and excited. "Come
+here!"
+
+"Comin', lady. Did you find it?"
+
+"Look here." Polly was at the side of an old cart, peering and poking
+through the sticks of wood and bits of old straw which filled it. "See,
+down there--doesn't that look to you like something?"
+
+Sam Penhallow felt a sudden thrill; a thrill he had not known the like of
+since he led the posse across the border after the kidnapping bandit. He
+bent an excited gray eye over the hole indicated.
+
+"Sure does look like there was somethin' besides wood in there--somethin'
+bulky, and there's some sacking.--Hi, Mendoza, come here and lend a
+hand!"
+
+In the meantime he and Polly began throwing the wood out of the wagon.
+
+"My idea is that Gasca hid it in the wagon because he thought no one would
+suspect anything there," said Polly, "and he could haul it away in a hurry
+if they did."
+
+"It's more likely he buried it and after he died the woman dug it up and
+packed it in here meaning to go South with it and then got sick and died
+before she had the chance."
+
+"Well, I said you had imagination. That's a much better theory than mine,"
+said Polly, generously. "But why didn't somebody take the wagon?"
+
+"Well, it ain't much of a wagon. I reckon they took the horse and the pigs
+and chickens and let the rest slide. The wood don't amount to much; just
+sticks she's picked up."
+
+Mendoza, quite of the opinion that the couple whom up to this time he had
+suspected of nothing more alarming than an elopement, had suddenly gone
+very mad, stolidly chucked wood out of the wagon lest a worse thing be
+demanded of him.
+
+"There!" The three gathered around the half-empty wagon in excitement,
+even Mendoza manifesting a slight degree of zest when through the layer of
+straw, half covered with sacking, was revealed a number of rough looking
+blocks, in shape resembling large loaves of bread. Penhallow lifted one
+with difficulty.
+
+"That's what it is, girl," he cried, his eyes glistening. "It's gold
+straight from the mine. Why, what's the matter?"
+
+"It's so disappointing," murmured the girl; "it looks like old junk."
+
+"Well, it's pretty good old junk. I only wish it was mine, don't you,
+Mendoza? This stuff, Mendoza, all belongs to some rich guys who own a lot
+of mines down yonder. Big, fat chaps who sit in easy chairs back of
+mahogany tables and let other fellows earn their money for them; fine
+business, eh?"
+
+Mendoza grinned--a comprehending if not a lovely grin.
+
+"_Si_," he grunted. "I seen them fat fellers up in San Antone. All got de
+sickness of de kidney or de stomach. Me, I rather be poor man and live on
+de outside."
+
+"Well, that ain't bad for an old heathen, eh, Miss Polly?" chuckled
+Penhallow. "Come on, we've got to load this stuff into the Ford before
+those greasers get here."
+
+"How much do you think there is?" asked Polly, eagerly.
+
+"Oh, I don't know--a few thousands, I guess. I've a notion old Gasca had
+to whack up with the fellows who helped him get it across. It's no fortune
+but it's going to give us lame backs moving it and I reckon the Company
+will be glad to see it again."
+
+It was a hard load to move and long before the transfer was made Polly
+acknowledged that she was glad they hadn't made a bigger haul. It was
+growing darker, too, and Wildcat Canyon began to seem less and less the
+sort of place for a picnic.
+
+"Well, little lady," observed Penhallow, as they started down the canyon,
+"you've done a good night's work for your brother. Say, Mendoza, don't
+that look like a car to you down yonder?"
+
+Polly sat up suddenly. "I thought you said that you owned the only car in
+town?"
+
+"I do. That's why I've a notion that that's mine, though why Ed Merriam
+should be flourishin' it around here, I don't know."
+
+"Car, yes," agreed Mendoza. "Make 'em back up. Can't pass there."
+
+At the same moment the other car honked excitedly and Mendoza answered.
+
+"There are some men on horseback there, aren't there?" said Polly,
+straining her eyes.
+
+"On the other side of the arroyo--yes. Hullo, guns! Say, Ed's in trouble!
+Shake a leg, Mendoza--we got to look into this. Girlie, you can lie down
+if they shoot, do you hear?"
+
+"Yes," breathed Polly, excitedly.
+
+They could see plainly now. They saw two of the mounted men dash off and
+the other, reeling in his saddle, but holding gamely to his seat, dash
+after them. Then they saw two men from the automobile spring to support
+the third who had fallen.
+
+"Gosh, I hope that ain't Ed!" said Penhallow. "I don't like the guy much,
+but Mabel would have my blood if I let him get plugged and me on the spot
+doing nothing."
+
+"Not Merriam," said Mendoza, darkly. "Merriam and Señor Hard carry the
+man."
+
+"Hold on!" But Penhallow was too slow. The car was slowing down and Polly
+was out in the road. Penhallow followed her.
+
+"Is--is he killed?"
+
+Hard looked up from his task of reviving Scott, with the contents of his
+whiskey flask and saw to his amazement a white-faced Polly Street bending
+over him.
+
+"Polly!" he gasped. "Then they didn't get you, after all?"
+
+"Is he killed?" The girl's voice was sharp and hard.
+
+"No, he ain't," Penhallow's hearty voice broke in. "It takes more than one
+bullet to kill a tough bird like Scotty."
+
+Marc opened his eyes, grinned feebly and shut them again, not before he
+had seen Polly's anxious face bending over him.
+
+"They--Pachuca didn't----"
+
+"Not a bit of it, old man," Hard broke in. Then to Polly: "We thought
+Pachuca had carried you off."
+
+Polly stared at him in horror. "Carried me off?" she gasped. "Were those
+men----" she paused, dazed. Hard explained.
+
+Sam Penhallow in the meantime had tackled his prospective son-in-law.
+
+"Where'd they get him, Ed?"
+
+"Shoulder. Don't look to me like no vital spot."
+
+"Well, we ain't all got our vitals as protected as you have, Ed," replied
+the sheriff, scathingly. "What was you up here for, anyhow?"
+
+"Scott got it into his head that his girl had been kidnapped by Mexicans
+and he got us up here after three of 'em. Looks to me, Father-in-law, like
+he'd picked the wrong kidnapper."
+
+"That'll do, Ed; fat folks was made to look funny, not to talk smart.
+Here, let's get this boy bandaged up before he bleeds to death."
+
+Polly, white and frightened, looked on as Penhallow's experienced hands
+tore up a shirt and made it into a bandage. The wound looked very vital to
+her and she would have given up hope a dozen times if it hadn't been for
+Penhallow's cheerful monologue.
+
+"That's the idea! Say, you boys better guess what this girl and I got in
+that Ford. We've been after treasure. Oh, you're waking up, are you?" as
+Scott opened his eyes. "I thought you would. You won't josh your wife much
+about Gasca and his hidden gold, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"It's all my fault," wept the girl. "If I'd only told you where I was
+going this wouldn't have happened. Oh, Marc, I'm so sorry!"
+
+"Well, you ain't the only one that's sorry, I reckon," grinned Merriam.
+"That Mexican ain't going to do much ridin' for a while by the looks of
+him."
+
+"Humph!" Penhallow and Hard lifted Scott gently into the car. "Don't worry
+about him. He's had this coming to him for some time by all accounts and
+the worst of it is his hide's probably so tough he won't know it's been
+punctured." Penhallow spat disgustedly.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The return of the two cars, the one with the treasure and the other with
+the missing girl, made a sensation quite after Chula Vista's own heart.
+When it became known that the doctor had pronounced Scott's wound not
+dangerous but requiring care and quiet, the situation was all that could
+be desired. They would have been happier still could they have heard
+Polly's ultimatum, delivered the following morning when she and Scott were
+alone together a few minutes before Clara's wedding. Scott had insisted
+that the wedding should not be postponed for even a day.
+
+"You're needed in Athens, Hard," he said. "With Bob and me both in the
+discard, you've got to stand by the ship." So the wedding had been set for
+ten o'clock, Polly's train leaving for the railroad junction at noon.
+
+"Now, Marc, listen to me," Polly said. Her tone was severe. "I've never
+been really stern with you since our acquaintance. I've always given in
+and let you have the biggest piece of cake. Now I mean what I say. I'm not
+going back and leave you here, sick and alone. Besides, Mrs. Conrad
+changed her mind last night. She's going to Athens with Mr. Hard."
+
+"There's Mabel Penhallow--she'd look after me," replied Scott, mildly.
+
+"Well, she shan't. Let her look after that fat thing she's going to marry.
+No, I'm going to stay here until you're well again, and by that time my
+reputation will be in shreds--perfect shreds."
+
+"Well, I think it will, too, but what can I do?"
+
+"You can let me tell that minister to come right over here and marry us
+when he's through with the others," said Polly, firmly. Then, with tears
+in her eyes: "Oh, Marc, don't you see I don't like doing underhand things
+any more than you do, but I can't go away and leave you like this? I know
+my people and I know what they'll say. They'll say I did the right
+thing."
+
+"Well, girlie, I don't know--I'd rather like to see Hard and Mrs. Conrad
+married, myself. Don't you think maybe you could get the Padre to do both
+jobs over here?"
+
+Thus it was that a double wedding took place in the small room which the
+invalid occupied. Chula Vista, or at least those citizens who were allowed
+to witness the ceremony, were loud in their praises of the brides. Ed
+Merriam was particularly impressed and begged earnestly that it might be
+made a triple affair, but, as Mr. Penhallow justly observed, you can
+overdo even a good thing if you try hard enough. Ed was obliged to content
+himself with the rôle of spectator. Mr. Penhallow, himself, was a busy
+man. He not only acted as best man at both ceremonies, but he also had the
+gold on his nerves. It was removed immediately after the weddings--in the
+first spare moment that the best man had--to a near-by town which
+possessed banking facilities, a full account of its recovery being sent to
+Robert Street. This arrived in the same mail with a letter from Polly, and
+Bob celebrated his first sitting up by breaking the news to his parents.
+
+"Tell you what, folks," he said, "while it's a bit of a blow to have our
+baby cut loose like this, there's something to be said on the other side.
+Marc Scott's a first-class fellow and he'll make her a much better husband
+than that Henderson chap ever would."
+
+"But, Bob dear, what sort of a man is he?" Mrs. Street's delicate face
+expressed alarm neatly blended with horror.
+
+"That," replied her husband, briefly, "is what I am going to find out.
+There's a train going west in about two hours and if you wish me to carry
+your blessing to our wayward child I shall be happy to do so."
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Hard went south in Mendoza's Ford. Theirs was a gentle
+romance, with more poetry in it than the bride suspected. Two people so
+thoroughly suited to each other do not always have the happiness to meet
+at just the right time.
+
+"For it is just the right time, Clara," Hard said. "A little earlier and
+we might not have had the wisdom to fall in love again with each other; a
+little later and we might have felt too old and dignified to think of it.
+I consider that we took things in the nick of time."
+
+The success of the revolution, which resulted in the presidency of Alvaro
+Obregon, made popular a movement against the bandits which have flourished
+so long in Mexico. The case of Angel Gonzales was handled early one
+morning by a firing squad in the courtyard of Juan Pachuca's country
+residence. The evidence against Angel was cumulative, the episode of the
+Yaqui village being only one of many interesting exploits in which he had
+figured.
+
+Just how much the escape of Juan Pachuca was due to the connivance of his
+captors will probably never be known. The general opinion, however, was
+that while his misdeeds were not to be condoned, in view of the friendly
+sentiments on the part of the new Government toward the United States; at
+the same time they were considered hardly of a nature to subject a
+gentleman to the fate of a bandit. Cared for by his friends on the other
+side while his wound was healing, Pachuca is still living peacefully and
+very quietly on our side of the border, waiting, probably, the opportunity
+to return to his country to help along another revolution.
+
+Scott and Polly will be happy. They are happy at present, and are no
+longer at Athens; the Fiske, Doane Co. having appointed Scott to a better
+position in one of its Arizona mines, a delicate compliment, he says, to
+his wife's services in the little matter of the Gasca treasure.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Mesa, by Jarvis Hall
+
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+"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+<title>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Across the Mesa, by Jarvis Hall.
+</title>
+
+<style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
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+    h3                {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;}
+    .pncolor          {color: silver;}
+    div.ce p          {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;}
+    .figcenter        {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;}
+    .caption          {font-size:.8em;}
+    table             {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
+    hr.tb             {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.8em; margin-bottom: 0.8em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;}
+    .pagenum          {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;}
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+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Mesa, by Jarvis Hall
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Across the Mesa
+
+Author: Jarvis Hall
+
+Illustrator: Henry Pitz
+
+Release Date: October 21, 2008 [EBook #26984]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE MESA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 365px; height: 540px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 365px;'>
+THE PONY PUT HER TWO FOREFEET OVER THE EDGE OF THE DESCENT.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:2.2em; margin-top:2.2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>Across the Mesa</p>
+<p style=' font-variant:small-caps;'>By</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>JARVIS HALL</p>
+<p style=' font-variant:small-caps;'>Author of &#8220;Through Mocking Bird Gap&#8221;</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Frontispiece by</p>
+<p style=' margin-bottom:3em;'>HENRY PITZ</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>THE PENN PUBLISHING</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>COMPANY PHILADELPHIA</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>1922</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>COPYRIGHT</p>
+<p>1922 BY</p>
+<p>THE PENN</p>
+<p>PUBLISHING</p>
+<p>COMPANY</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-emb.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 90px; height: 85px;' /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>Across the Mesa</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p>Made in the U. S. A.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Contents</p>
+</div>
+
+<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Why Not?</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_WHY_NOT'>7</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Athens</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_ATHENS'>14</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>En Route</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_EN_ROUTE'>30</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Juan Pachuca</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_JUAN_PACHUCA'>48</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Polly Arrives</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_POLLY_ARRIVES'>65</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Local Activities</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_LOCAL_ACTIVITIES'>80</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Miss Chicago</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_MISS_CHICAGO'>97</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Prisoner</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_PRISONER'>109</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At Liberty</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_AT_LIBERTY'>126</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Discovery</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_THE_DISCOVERY'>142</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Casa Grande</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_CASA_GRANDE'>159</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Night Ride</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_A_NIGHT_RIDE'>179</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Wagon</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_THE_WAGON'>188</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Trail</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_THE_TRAIL'>208</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Angel</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_ANGEL'>222</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Tom Does a Marathon</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_TOM_DOES_A_MARATHON'>238</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At Soria&#8217;s</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_AT_SORIA_S'>251</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Back to Athens</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_BACK_TO_ATHENS'>276</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Polly Makes a New Acquaintance</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_POLLY_MAKES_A_NEW_ACQUAINTANCE'>283</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Treasure Trove</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_TREASURE_TROVE'>303</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>Across the Mesa</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='I_WHY_NOT' id='I_WHY_NOT'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h3>WHY NOT?</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Polly Street drove her little electric down Michigan
+Boulevard, with bitterness in her heart.</p>
+<p>It was a cold wet day in the early spring of 1920,
+and Chicago was doing her best to show her utter
+indifference to anyone&#8217;s opinion as to what spring
+weather ought to be. It was the sort of day when, if
+you had any ambition left after a dreary winter, you
+began to plot desperate things.</p>
+<p>Polly hated driving the electric&mdash;her soul yearned
+for a gas car. Mrs. Street, however, did not like a
+gas car without a man to drive it; the son of the family
+was in Athens, Mexico, at a coal mine; and Mr. Street,
+Sr., considered that his income did not run to a chauffeur
+at the present scale of wage. Therefore, Polly
+tried to forget her prejudice and to imagine that the
+neat little car was a real machine.</p>
+<p>Second among her grievances was the fact that this
+was Bob&#8217;s wedding day and she, his adored and adoring
+sister, was not with him. Bob had been engaged
+for some months to a girl in Douglas, Arizona. The
+date of the wedding had been set twice and each time
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span>
+difficulties in Mexico had made it seem unwise either
+that Bob should leave Athens, where he held the position
+of superintendent of one of Fiske, Doane &amp; Co.&#8217;s
+mines, or that the bride should venture into the disturbed
+region.</p>
+<p>This time they expected, as Bob wrote, to &#8220;pull it
+off on schedule.&#8221; Polly had hoped either to go to
+Douglas for the wedding or to have the bride and
+groom in Chicago; but Father had been unable to get
+away, Mother hadn&#8217;t been well, and the trip had been
+given up. Then the young couple planned to go immediately
+to Athens without the formality of a honeymoon.
+To quote Bob again: &#8220;People go on honeymoons
+to be lonesome, and if anybody can find a better
+place to be lonesome in than Athens, let him trot it
+out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The third grievance held an element of publicity
+particularly galling to a young lady who was known to
+her friends not only as a daring horsewoman, a crack
+swimmer and a golf champion, but as a bit of a belle
+besides. She and Joyce Henderson had agreed a week
+ago to break their engagement. The engagement had
+been a mistake&mdash;both young people admitted it frankly
+to each other. The irritating part of it was that Joyce
+was admitting it to the world.</p>
+<p>Instead of taking the matter seriously and considering
+himself, outwardly at least, as the victim of an unhappy
+love affair, Joyce had escorted another girl, who
+shall be nameless, for she does not enter this story except
+as an element of conflict, to the Mandarin Ball.
+Now the Mandarin Ball is not the frivolous affair that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span>
+its name suggests, but a perennial of deep importance,
+a function to which young men are in the habit of
+taking their wives, their fiancées, or the girls they
+rather hope may be their fiancées. It is one of the few
+social affairs left of the old order.</p>
+<p>Thus you can see that it was a pointed action on
+Joyce&#8217;s part; an indication that he regarded himself as
+a free man, and after the habit of free men was about
+to put on new chains. It was humiliating, to say the
+least. During the war the engagement had seemed
+quite natural, quite a part of things. All the young
+people were engaged&mdash;except those who were married.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That, at least, I had sense enough not to do!&#8221;
+raged Polly, as she narrowly missed a pedestrian&#8217;s heel.</p>
+<p>It is hard for older people to realize how important
+it is at twenty-three to be doing exactly what others
+are doing; the absolute anguish of being the only man
+in the A. E. F. without a wife or sweetheart, or the
+only girl at home without a soldier husband or lover.
+A bit of such understanding would make clear not only
+the number of divorces and broken engagements which
+resulted from the war and had their share in the production
+of the unrest of the times, but would also elucidate
+a good many other happenings to youth.</p>
+<p>So much for Polly Street and Joyce Henderson,
+who were fortunate enough to find out before marriage
+that they were unsuited for each other. Polly, however,
+preferred to look upon the dark side. Joyce had
+behaved like a cad.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the worst of it is that everybody will say
+it serves me right,&#8221; she went on to herself, &#8220;just because
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span>
+I&#8217;ve flirted a bit here and there. It&#8217;s not my
+fault if people never turn out as I expect them to. I
+guess I&#8217;m like Grandfather Street was in his religion.
+He thought the Baptists were wonderful until he joined
+them and then the Presbyterians looked more interesting
+to him. After he&#8217;d been with them a while he
+couldn&#8217;t see how anybody could be a Presbyterian, so
+he joined the Unitarians. People thought he was a
+turncoat, but he wasn&#8217;t&mdash;he was just a sort of religious
+Mormon. One church wasn&#8217;t enough for him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh dear, I wish I&#8217;d gone to Douglas alone! Bob
+would understand. I believe I&#8217;ll go to Athens. Why
+not? It&#8217;s safe enough or Emma&#8217;s parents wouldn&#8217;t
+let her go. Of course it&#8217;s a bit soon after their wedding,
+but I&#8217;ll be tactful and keep out of their way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The light of determination was in Polly&#8217;s dark eyes.
+They were big lovely eyes that looked at you wistfully
+from under arched brows. They seldom laughed
+or twinkled and the nose that kept them company was
+equally sedate, being purely aquiline, but a mouth with
+dimpled corners upset the scheme entirely, while
+ripples of golden brown hair completed the picture of
+a healthy, happy youngster&mdash;not radiantly beautiful
+but what people like to call &#8220;winsome,&#8221; which is after
+all as good a word as most.</p>
+<p>She parked the electric on the Lake Front and
+crossed the Boulevard. The policeman on the crossing
+nodded to her and she smiled at him. Polly had what
+her father called a &#8220;stand in&#8221; with the force. It was
+unnecessary, for she was a good driver when her feelings
+were not agitated, but there was something about
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span>
+policemen that appealed to her. They were so big and
+pink and forceful that you felt rather important when
+they nodded to you&mdash;a bit after the fashion of a man
+who is recognized by the head waiter.</p>
+<p>She was still smiling when she entered the building
+in which was located a club to which she belonged. It
+was a serious-minded club of clever women, and most
+people had been amused when Polly Street joined it.
+Nobody expected serious-minded things of Polly,
+though here and there someone was willing to admit
+that she was &#8220;clever enough in her way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Finding the writing-room empty, Polly sat down to
+write a letter. Several times in her career she had
+decided upon courses of procedure which had seemed
+to her eminently practical, only to be talked out of
+them by her family. This time she would take no such
+chances. She would write to Bob, and Bob, being
+much like her, understood her&mdash;as well at any rate as
+any brother understands a sister. Then she would go
+over to the bank and get some money on her Liberty
+Bonds. Polly was as usual broke, Mr. Street being a
+man who provided credit liberally for his family but
+who had learned from experience that money was safer
+in his own hands.</p>
+<p>A trip to the ticket office to make reservations and
+the thing would be done. A vague remembrance that
+Mexico was a place which demanded passports upon
+entrance came into her mind but was dismissed airily.
+Father would attend to that. The fact that Mexico
+was a troublous region where an American girl might
+meet with a good many disagreeable adventures was as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span>
+airily dismissed. All that anyone needed to go anywhere,
+according to Polly&#8217;s simple code, was common
+sense and money. The first she had, the second she
+intended to get, so why worry?</p>
+<p>As she sat at the writing-table a slightly martial air
+came over Polly. Bob must be made to understand the
+situation. Because a man took it upon himself to
+dwell in or on a coal mine, Polly was never quite sure
+of the phrase, in the remote Southwest, he was not
+absolved from all family duties. The fact that he had
+married the handsomest girl in Arizona and was indulging
+in a honeymoon need not prevent an oppressed
+sister from demanding sympathy. She wrote rapidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dear Bob</span>:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know it&#8217;s awfully nervy of me to drop in on
+you and Emma right at the beginning of your honeymoon,
+but I am coming just the same. Joyce Henderson
+has behaved atrociously to me. I&#8217;ll explain when I
+see you. You needn&#8217;t show this to Emma; you can
+read her scraps of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly paused. A mental picture of Emma, demure
+and pretty, came before her. Bob Street was a lucky
+man to have found a girl like Emma. A dreamy look
+succeeded the martial one. Visions of a flower-bedecked
+hacienda&mdash;was that what they called them, it
+didn&#8217;t sound exactly right&mdash;surrounded by peons dozing
+in the sun succeeded the dimpled vision of Emma.
+Polly drew her ideas of Mexico entirely from the
+movies, Bob&#8217;s short letters being quite lacking in atmosphere.
+She saw herself leaning over a balcony,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
+listening to the strains of a mandolin, played by a tall,
+slim youth, who resembled a composite photograph of
+several of her favorite movie idols. Poor Joyce Henderson,
+how unimportant he seemed by the side of that
+radiant vision! Polly scribbled furiously.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='II_ATHENS' id='II_ATHENS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h3>ATHENS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the northern part of Mexico, in the state of
+Sonora, lies the little mining town of Athens, ironically
+named by someone whose sense of beauty was offended
+by the yellow stretches of desert sand, broken by hills,
+dotted here and there by cactus and mesquite, and
+frowned upon by gaunt and angular mountains.</p>
+<p>Athens, when the mining industry was running full
+time, was a busy if not a beautiful spot. Its row of
+shacks housed workers, male and a few female, to a
+generous number, while its busy little train of cars&mdash;for
+Athens owned a tiny spur of railroad connecting
+with the neighboring town of Conejo and operated for
+reasons germane to the coal industry&mdash;gave it, if you
+were very temperamental, something of the air of a
+metropolis seen through a diminishing glass.</p>
+<p>The plant and offices which boasted two stories, and
+the general merchandise store which was long and
+rambling, were larger than the shacks; otherwise
+Athens was a true democracy. The company house in
+which the superintendent, the manager and the chief
+engineer &#8220;bached&#8221; only differed from the others by
+an added cleanliness, for Mrs. Van Zandt, the energetic
+woman who ran the boarding-house, gave an eye to its
+welfare. The little houses were arranged in one long
+street and that street was Athens.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></p>
+<p>Several days after the invasion of Athens suggested
+itself to Miss Polly Street in far-off Chicago, a prominent
+citizen strode from the offices in the direction of
+the boarding-house. He moved with decision, for he
+was hungry, and Mrs. Van Zandt was fastidious as to
+hours. The office force ate its supper at six, and the
+fact that Marc Scott was the assistant superintendent
+and, in the absence of the superintendent on affairs
+matrimonial, in charge altogether, was no reason in the
+eyes of Mrs. Van Zandt why he should be late to his
+meals.</p>
+<p>Scott paused outside the boarding-house to look into
+the distance where an accustomed but always interesting
+sight met his eyes. Away in the distance, between
+two foothills, appeared the tiny thread of smoke which
+marked the approach of the little train from Conejo.
+It was fascinating to watch it; at first so indistinct,
+then plainer, and finally to see the little engine puffing
+its way along, dragging the small cars. There would
+be no one on it but the train gang and nothing more
+exciting than the mail, but its bi-weekly arrival never
+lost interest for Marc Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Johnson&#8217;s late to-night,&#8221; he muttered, and pushed
+open the door which led immediately to the dining-room.
+Three men had just begun eating. There was
+Henry Hard, the chief engineer; Jimmy Adams, the
+bookkeeper, and Jack Williams, who ran the company
+store; they, with young Street, Scott, the doctor&mdash;who
+a month ago had taken an ailing wife back to Cincinnati&mdash;and
+the train gang, formed the little group of
+Americans who had held the mining camp together.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p>
+<p>While their location had been freer from trouble
+than many parts of Mexico, both in regard to bandit
+and federal persecution, they had borne a part in the
+general unrest. Once the town had been attacked by
+Indians; another time, lying in the path of one of
+Villa&#8217;s hurried retreats, it had endured a week-end
+visit from that gentleman, after which horses and
+canned goods had been scarce for a while.</p>
+<p>The worst trouble they had had, however, had been
+with labor. They worked the mine with Mexicans,
+and the Mexicans were an uncertain quantity. Athens
+was too far from the border to admit of hiring labor
+from the other side and allowing it to go back and
+forth, and the men they got were a discouraged lot,
+ready to abandon the job for anything that came up,
+from joining the newest bandit to enlisting in the army.
+Fighting seemed their <i>metier</i> and most of them preferred
+it to the monotony of working a mine. A few
+who were married and had hungry families stayed
+longer than the rest but it was always a problem.</p>
+<p>Just now the mine was running three days a week
+and no one knew when orders would come to shut
+down entirely. There were the usual rumors afloat in
+regard to the coming election in July and a good many
+people who had seen other elections in Mexico expected
+trouble. The Athens people were looking to
+Street&#8217;s return for news from headquarters, but already
+several days had gone by since the wedding and
+they had heard nothing.</p>
+<p>The men looked up and nodded as Scott entered and
+Mrs. Van Zandt, peering in from the kitchen through
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span>
+a square hole which served as a means of communication,
+brought him his coffee. Mrs. Van Zandt had a
+weak spot in her heart for Marc Scott&mdash;most women
+and children had. One did not at first see why. He
+was not good looking, except that he was well made
+and well kept; not particularly pleasing in his manner,
+being given to an abruptness of speech which most
+people found disconcerting; and he liked his own way
+more than is conducive to social harmony.</p>
+<p>He was, however, straight as a die; was afraid of
+few things and no persons; and if he liked you, he had
+an especial manner for you which took the edge off his
+gruffness so that you wondered why you had ever
+thought him disagreeable. His hair and skin were as
+brown as each other, which was saying a good deal;
+his eyes were gray; his teeth white and strong; and he
+had the healthy look of a man who lives in the open,
+bathes a good deal and does not overeat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Late as usual,&#8221; remarked Mrs. Van Zandt, pessimistically,
+as she set the coffee down beside him.
+&#8220;The less a man has to do in this world, the harder it
+seems to be for him to get to his meals on time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t it the truth?&#8221; remarked Adams, with feeling.
+He was a short, chubby youngster, with a twinkling
+blue eye. &#8220;If it was me, I could whistle for my
+supper, but seeing it&#8217;s him, he gets fed up, the beggar!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Too bad about you!&#8221; sniffed Mrs. Van Zandt. &#8220;I
+thought you&#8217;d cut out that second cup of coffee?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m aiming to cut it out during the heated term,&#8221;
+was the cheerful reply. &#8220;There&#8217;s something about
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span>
+your coffee, Mrs. Van, that&#8217;s like some folks&mdash;refuses
+to be cut.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; Mrs. Van was not inaccessible to flattery.
+&#8220;Dolores,&#8221; this to a black-haired girl whose
+face appeared at the hole. &#8220;You can cut the pies like
+I told you&mdash;in fours. If that girl stays with me another
+month I&#8217;ll make something out of her; but, Lord,
+why should I think she&#8217;ll stay? They never do.
+Mexicans must be born with an itch for travel.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I notice,&#8221; suggested Hard, &#8220;that in the haunts of
+civilization they are cutting pies in sixes.&#8221; Hard was
+a Bostonian&mdash;tall, spare, and muscular. He came of a
+fine old Massachusetts family, and his gray eyes, surrounded
+by a dozen kindly little wrinkles, his clean-cut
+mouth, wide but firm and thin lipped, showed marks
+of breeding absent in the other men.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush, don&#8217;t tell her!&#8221; growled Adams. &#8220;A
+woman just naturally can&#8217;t help trying to follow the
+styles, and I can use more pie than a sixth, let me tell
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van, having attended to the distribution of the
+pie, sat down at the foot of the table for a bit of conversation.
+She was a good-looking woman with dark
+hair and eyes, and features which, though they were
+hard, were not disagreeable. Her figure was restrained
+with much care from its inclination to over
+fleshiness. Mrs. Van scorned the sort of woman who
+let herself get fat and fought the enemy daily. I could
+not possibly tell you her age, for no one but herself
+knew it. It might be thirty-five and on the other hand
+it might easily be ten or fifteen years more.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></p>
+<p>She had led a roving life, beginning somewhere in
+the Middle West, carrying on for a time in the East,
+where it involved a bit of stage life to which she loved
+to refer. There had been a short spasm of matrimony,
+not entirely satisfactory, the late Van Zandt having had
+his full share of his sex&#8217;s weaknesses, and a final career
+of keeping a boarding-house in New York. After that
+she had drifted West and finally into Mexico. She
+had been a veritable godsend to the Athens mining
+company which had undergone the agonies of native
+cooking until the digestions of the American portion of
+the working force were in a condition resembling half
+extinct craters.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What I&#8217;m wonderin&#8217; is if Bob Street and his girl
+got married or not and when they&#8217;re coming home,&#8221;
+she remarked as she sat down. One of Mrs. Van&#8217;s
+little peculiarities, saved probably from the wreck of
+her theatrical career, was a tendency toward calling
+people by their first names when they were not there
+to protect themselves and sometimes even when they
+were.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If they&#8217;ve got any sense at all they&#8217;ll wait,&#8221; said
+Scott, placidly. &#8220;This is no time to be bringin&#8217; more
+women into the country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s so,&#8221; agreed Williams, a confirmed bachelor.
+&#8220;It was good luck the Doc took his wife and kids off
+when he did. There&#8217;ll be trouble here when them elections
+is held.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pick up your skirts and run, Mrs. Van!&#8221; suggested
+Adams. &#8220;You may be cooking for a Mexicano
+yet.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;If I do he&#8217;ll know it,&#8221; was the prompt reply. &#8220;I
+ain&#8217;t the runnin&#8217; kind. Anybody who&#8217;s staved off the
+landlord in New York as many times as I have ain&#8217;t
+going to worry about Mexicans. What I think those
+young folks ought to do is to go East for their honeymoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They can&#8217;t,&#8221; replied Adams, with a grin. &#8220;It
+wouldn&#8217;t look sporting for the Supe to leave his underlings
+without protection in such a crisis.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I like Bob Street as well as any young chap I
+know,&#8221; said Mrs. Van Zandt, meditatively, &#8220;but I
+don&#8217;t know as I&#8217;d want him standin&#8217; between me and
+Angel Gonzales&mdash;if Angel was much mad.&#8221; Angel
+Gonzales was a local bandit; a man of many crimes
+and much history. &#8220;But, of course, it wouldn&#8217;t look
+well for the Sup&#8217;rintendent to run away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Street&#8217;s not the running kind, either; don&#8217;t fool
+yourself about that,&#8221; remarked Scott, quietly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a good kid. I don&#8217;t care if he is a rich man&#8217;s
+son,&#8221; said Adams with sincerity. &#8220;If my Dad had
+money I wouldn&#8217;t be keeping books, you bet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, son, you&#8217;d be playing the ponies up at Juarez,&#8221;
+responded Hard, cheerfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not ponies, Henry dear, roulette,&#8221; replied Jimmy,
+pleasantly. &#8220;Me and Mrs. Van are going to get
+spliced just as soon as the Ouija board tells her the
+winning system.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all very well for you to make fun of things
+you don&#8217;t know any more about than a baby, Jim
+Adams.&#8221; Mrs. Van&#8217;s scorn was intense. &#8220;If you&#8217;d
+read that article I showed you in the magazine about
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span>
+the man that talked to his mother-in-law by the
+Ouija&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mother-in-law? Great guns, is that the best the
+thing can do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The reply was cut short by the entrance of the train
+gang, hot and hungry, clamoring for food.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;s Conejo?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sand-storm. Windy as a parson. Say, you fellows
+eat up all the pie?&#8221; Conversation was suspended
+while the demands of hunger were satisfied, and Scott
+distributed the mail which the late comers had brought.</p>
+<p>&#8220;From Bob?&#8221; Hard looked up from his Boston
+paper as Scott grunted over his letter. Scott nodded
+and then as the others looked their curiosity, he read
+the brief note aloud.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dear Scotty</span>:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have just had a summons from the directors
+to go East at once; guess they&#8217;re uneasy about something
+they&#8217;ve heard and want first-hand information.
+Emma and I are starting for Chicago to-morrow.
+Open all mail and wire anything important.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Bob</span>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just what I said they&#8217;d ought to do,&#8221; breathed Mrs.
+Van, happily. &#8220;Well, that girl&#8217;s got a good husband&mdash;I&#8217;ll
+say she has.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Directors would be a heap more uneasy if they
+knew what we know,&#8221; remarked Williams, sententiously.
+&#8220;Hear anything more about the Chihuahua
+troops bein&#8217; ordered in, Johnson?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nope,&#8221; replied the engineer, his mouth full of pie.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span>
+&#8220;Everybody crawled into their holes in Conejo.
+Didn&#8217;t you never see a sand-storm, Jack?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish I&#8217;d known he was going to Chicago. I&#8217;d
+have asked him to look in on my girl,&#8221; said Jimmy,
+folding up his letter. &#8220;I don&#8217;t like the way she writes&mdash;all
+jazz and picture shows. Some cuss is trying to
+cut me out with her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;More likely she&#8217;s heard about you and the little
+Mexican over to Conejo,&#8221; remarked the fireman, unsympathetically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;d had her address she sure would have,&#8221;
+replied Adams, promptly. &#8220;That Mexican girl&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, we remember her. She was a looker but she
+used too much powder&mdash;they all do.&#8221; Hard&#8217;s voice
+was judicial. &#8220;She always reminded me of a chocolate
+cake caught out in a snow-storm.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush up!&#8221; Mrs. Van&#8217;s voice was tragic. &#8220;Do
+you want Dolores to get mad and quit? They&#8217;ve got
+their feelings same as we have. I guess I&#8217;ve got to
+catch a deaf and dumb one if I want to keep her on
+this place!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Marc Scott sat in his place, a pile of letters before
+him, when the others had gone, and Mrs. Van was
+helping Dolores with the dishes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Mrs. Van, when you get through with those
+dishes come outside a minute; I want to talk to you,&#8221;
+he said as he threw open the door.</p>
+<p>The shack boasted no veranda, but there were three
+small steps. Scott seated himself on the top one and
+rolled a cigarette. The air was chilly. The sun had
+sunk behind the mountains and outlined their rugged
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span>
+shapes with golden lines against the purple. Everything
+was very still&mdash;there was not a sound except for
+the faint strains of the victrola, which Jimmy Adams
+always played for an hour after supper. A few figures
+moved about in and out of the other cabins; not
+many&mdash;for the working force was light these days. A
+light in the store showed that Williams was keeping
+open house as usual.</p>
+<p>The door opened and Mrs. Van came out and sat
+beside him on the step.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; she said, quietly, &#8220;what&#8217;s the matter?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m in the deuce of a mess,&#8221; replied Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean Indians?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Worse than that&mdash;it&#8217;s a woman, Mrs. Van.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A woman!&#8221; Mrs. Van was plainly shocked.
+&#8220;My land, Marc Scott, you ain&#8217;t been foolin&#8217; with that
+heathen in the kitchen?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott chuckled. &#8220;Listen, Mrs. Van, I oughtn&#8217;t to
+string you like that&mdash;it is a woman, though. You
+heard me read that letter of Bob&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He said to read the mail.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, haven&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and the first one I tumbled into feet foremost
+was a confidential one from his sister. She says she&#8217;s
+coming down here. She thinks he&#8217;s here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What? You mean here? Athens?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what she says. The letter&#8217;s been lying over
+at Conejo since Tuesday and the chances are she&#8217;s
+there by this time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that ain&#8217;t the worst. It was a confidential letter.
+She said&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Scott paused in embarrassment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not telling you this for fun, Mrs. Van Zandt, but
+because I don&#8217;t know what to do. You&#8217;re a lady&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, go on, what&#8217;s the matter with you? I guess if
+you know it it ain&#8217;t going to hurt me. Has she run off
+with somebody, or has her Pa lost his money, or
+what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll show you.&#8221; Scott fished out Polly&#8217;s letter
+apologetically. &#8220;I stopped reading it directly I saw
+it was confidential,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;but I got this much
+at one swallow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dear Bob</span>:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know it&#8217;s awfully nervy of me to drop in on
+you and Emma right at the beginning of your honeymoon,
+but I am coming just the same. Joyce Henderson
+has behaved atrociously to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all I read,&#8221; concluded Scott, penitently.
+&#8220;Joyce Henderson is the fellow she&#8217;s engaged to&mdash;Bob
+told me that. I had to look at the end to see if she said
+when she was coming, and by George, if she started
+when she said she was going to, she ought to be in
+Conejo right now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now!!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What we&#8217;re going to do with her, I don&#8217;t know, do
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She and the wedding couple have just crossed each
+other!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looks like it. Look here, Mrs. Van, what am I
+going to do? If I don&#8217;t look her up, God knows what&#8217;ll
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span>
+happen to her over in Conejo, unless she has sense
+enough to go to the Morgans. If I do, she&#8217;s going to
+raise merry heck because I read that letter about the
+fellow jilting her. Now I thought maybe if you&#8217;d let
+on that you read it&mdash;a girl wouldn&#8217;t mind another
+woman&#8217;s knowing a thing like that as much as she
+would a man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt surveyed Scott pityingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It always seems so queer to me that a man can
+have so much muscle and so little horse sense,&#8221; she
+said at length.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There ain&#8217;t any use my explaining; you wouldn&#8217;t
+get me,&#8221; she went on, impatiently. &#8220;But here&#8217;s something
+even you can understand. I&#8217;d look nice opening
+the boss&#8217;s mail, wouldn&#8217;t I? Now you&#8217;ve read the
+worst of it you might as well dip into it far enough to
+find out just when she&#8217;s coming. Somebody&#8217;ll have to
+drive over to Conejo for her as long as the machine&#8217;s
+busted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve read all I&#8217;m going to,&#8221; said Scott, doggedly.
+&#8220;You can do the finding out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt grunted, arranged a pair of eyeglasses
+which sat uneasily on a nose ill adapted to
+them, and glanced at the letter. She gave a sigh of
+relief.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She says she&#8217;s going straight to the Morgans&#8217; when
+she gets to Conejo. Bob&#8217;s told her about them.
+Prob&#8217;ly Morgan&#8217;ll run her over in his car. She ain&#8217;t
+very definite about time; don&#8217;t seem to know just how
+long she&#8217;ll be detained at the border.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Unless they&#8217;re all fools up there she&#8217;ll be detained
+some time,&#8221; said Scott, disgustedly. &#8220;Well, I&#8217;ll go
+and get the Morgans on the wire and see if they&#8217;ve
+seen anything of her,&#8221; and he strode away toward the
+office.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt sat watching him as he swung down
+the street. The sun&#8217;s gilding had faded from the
+mountains and it was growing dark. Here and there
+a star peeped out as though to commiserate Athens
+upon its loneliness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is lonely,&#8221; Mrs. Van said to herself. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+know as I ever felt it so much before. I hope it don&#8217;t
+mean that we&#8217;re going to have trouble. Sometimes I
+think I must be psychic&mdash;I seem to sense things so.
+Wish that girl had stayed at home, but, Lord, I&#8217;d of
+done the same thing at her age. That&#8217;s a youngster&#8217;s
+first idea when things go wrong&mdash;to run away. As
+though you could run away from things!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The lady shook her head pessimistically and drew
+her sweater more closely about her as the air grew
+chillier. A short plump figure with a shawl wrapped
+around its head came out from the back of the house
+and melted into the darkness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that you, Dolores?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Si. The deeshes all feenish,&#8221; said Dolores,
+promptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you wash out the dish towels?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Si. All done. I go to bed.&#8221; Dolores disappeared.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a liar,&#8221; breathed Mrs. Van, softly. &#8220;You
+ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; to bed, you&#8217;re goin&#8217; to set and spoon with
+that good-looking cousin of yours. Well, go to it.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span>
+You&#8217;re only young once and this country&#8217;d drive a
+woman to most anything.&#8221; Her eyes twinkled humorously.
+When Mrs. Van&#8217;s eyes twinkled you forgot
+that her face was hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My, but they&#8217;re hittin&#8217; it up on Broadway about
+this time! Let&#8217;s see&mdash;it&#8217;ll be about eleven&mdash;the theatres
+just lettin&#8217; out, crowds going up and down and
+pouring into restaurants. Say, ain&#8217;t it queer the difference
+in people&#8217;s lives? There&#8217;s them sitting on plush
+and eating lobster, and here&#8217;s me looking into emptiness
+and half expecting to see a Yaqui grinning at me
+from behind a bush! Hullo, you back?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott, accompanied by Hard, came down the street
+again. Both seemed disturbed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; remarked the former, grimly. &#8220;She&#8217;s
+started.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Started?&#8221; Mrs. Van rose. &#8220;What do you mean
+by that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I got Jack Morgan&#8217;s mother on the &#8217;phone,&#8221; said
+Scott. &#8220;Seems she&#8217;d been trying to get us. The girl
+got into Conejo about six&mdash;just after our train pulled
+out&mdash;tried to get us on the &#8217;phone and couldn&#8217;t; so she
+got a machine and is on the way over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got a machine!&#8221; Mrs. Van gasped. &#8220;Are the
+Morgans crazy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jack and his wife have gone over to Mescal with
+their car and there&#8217;s nobody home but the old lady and
+the youngsters. Old lady Morgan&#8217;s deaf and hollers
+over the wire so I couldn&#8217;t get much of what she said,&#8221;
+continued Scott, ruefully. &#8220;I made up my mind that
+she&#8217;d got old Mendoza to bring her over in his Ford.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span>
+Guess it&#8217;s up to me to harness up and go over to meet
+them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should say so. That girl must be scared to death
+if nothing worse has happened to her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing worse will happen to her with Mendoza&mdash;unless
+he runs her into an arroyo. Mendoza&#8217;s principles
+are better than his eyesight. But, believe me,
+she deserves to be scared. It might put a little sense
+into her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall I drive over with you?&#8221; queried Hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, but you might help Mrs. Van move our things
+down to Jimmy&#8217;s. I thought we&#8217;d put her in our
+shack, Mrs. Van, and you could come up and stay with
+her.&#8221; And Scott swung off into the direction of the
+corral.</p>
+<p>The other two proceeded to the company house, as
+the superintendent&#8217;s quarters were called.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said the lady, as they began to pack the two
+men&#8217;s belongings, &#8220;I expected to get this house ready
+for a bride and groom but I must say I wasn&#8217;t looking
+for a lone woman. And yet if I&#8217;d had my wits about
+me I might have known. Only last night Dolores and
+me were running the Ouija and it says&mdash;look out for
+trouble&mdash;just as plain as that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t call her anything as bad as that,&#8221; said
+Hard, crossing to where the photograph of Polly Street
+hung over the fireplace.</p>
+<p>The picture showed a small girl, probably about ten
+or eleven; a fat little girl with chubby legs only half
+covered with socks, and with dimples in the knees; a
+little girl with very wide open eyes and a plump face,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span>
+a firmly shaped mouth and a serious expression; a little
+girl with frizzly hair and freckles that the photographer
+had failed to retouch, in a costume consisting of
+a short skirt, middy, and tam-o&#8217;-shanter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t call her a trouble maker,&#8221; said Hard,
+laughing, &#8220;unless she&#8217;s changed a lot in ten years.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='III_EN_ROUTE' id='III_EN_ROUTE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h3>EN ROUTE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>To say that the days which followed Miss Street&#8217;s
+unconventional decision passed in a whirl is to be both
+trite and truthful. In fact, it was not until she had
+crossed the border that she found leisure to reflect.</p>
+<p>To begin with, the parents had been difficult, as good
+parents usually are when youth begins to chafe at restriction,
+especially if youth happens to belong to the
+weaker but no longer the less adventurous sex. The
+Streets were easy-going people who liked to live by the
+way. They were not ambitious and they were not adventurous
+and they hated letting go of their children.
+It was bad enough to have a son marooned in a mining
+camp without losing a daughter in the same way.
+Only downright persuasion by the daughter, combined
+with remembrance of quite unalarming letters from the
+son resulted in the desired permission.</p>
+<p>&#8220;After all, if Emma&#8217;s parents let her go down there,
+I suppose we needn&#8217;t be afraid,&#8221; said Mrs. Street, who
+disliked argument.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In my opinion, Emma&#8217;s parents are fools,&#8221; replied
+Mr. Street, sternly. &#8220;Or else, like us, they&#8217;ve raised
+a daughter they can&#8217;t control.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t put it that way, Elbridge!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I would. You might as well look things in the
+face.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Father, you know Bob&#8217;s part of the country
+has been very calm; and I never get a chance to do
+anything interesting! You sat down on me when I
+wanted to drive a motor truck in France&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Any father can continue this lament from memory.
+The discussion had ended as discussions with spoiled
+children usually end. There had been a hurried packing
+and the familiar trip across the continent. It was
+only when she alighted at a border town and after
+some anxious hours waiting to have her passports viséd
+and her transportation arranged, embarked on the
+shabby south-bound train on the other side, that Polly
+fully realized the expedition to which she was committed.</p>
+<p>Up to this time her thoughts had been of the life she
+was leaving, and, it must be admitted, of Joyce Henderson.
+From Illinois to Texas she told herself exactly
+what she thought of a man who could so boldly
+and plainly and with such an evident relief accept his
+dismissal at the hands of the girl he had claimed to
+love; but by the time the train had jogged through
+miles of queer brownish yellow country, dotted with
+mesquite and punctured with cactus, relieved here and
+there by foothills, and frowned upon by distant mountains,
+her meditations assumed a more cheerful complexion.</p>
+<p>The outlook, monotonous as it was, fascinated her.
+There were adobe houses with brown youngsters playing
+in the scanty shade, much as one sees them in New
+Mexico and Arizona; there were uprooted rails and the
+ruins of burned cars&mdash;evidences of civil war unknown
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span>
+on our side of the line. There was a strong wind
+blowing&mdash;the early spring wind of the Southwest, but
+the sun shone hotly and one felt stuffy and uncomfortable
+in the car. The sand which was caught up by
+the wind blew in one&#8217;s face and down one&#8217;s throat and
+made closed windows a necessity.</p>
+<p>There were a good many people traveling, for a
+country in a reputedly unsettled condition, Polly
+thought, and wished that she could understand the
+fragments of conversation that she heard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why didn&#8217;t I take Spanish instead of French at
+school? I always seem to have chosen the most useless
+things to study! I wish I knew what those two
+fat women without any hats on are talking about&mdash;me,
+I suppose, for they keep looking over here. That man
+is American&mdash;or English. If I were Bob, I&#8217;d amble
+over and get up a conversation with him and find out
+all the interesting things I&#8217;m missing. I&#8217;ll bet he owns
+a mine down here somewhere. How fascinating!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly&#8217;s imagination immediately forsook the American
+and indulged in a rosy picture of herself as the
+owner of a mine&mdash;a gold mine&mdash;coal was too unromantic.
+She saw herself in a short skirt and a sombrero
+superintending the exertions of a number of dusky
+workers who were loading neat little gold bars on the
+backs of patient burros.</p>
+<p>This delightful picture occupied her fully until the
+train stopped and she had to get out. This train did
+not go all the way to Conejo, but left one at a junction
+called Pecos where twice a week if convenient for all
+parties a smaller train rattled its way across the plain
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span>
+and into the mountains among which Conejo nestled.
+It is not necessary to describe Pecos; its only reason
+for existence was the fact that it owned and operated
+a smelter.</p>
+<p>This second train was the shortest that Polly had
+ever seen. It consisted of an engine, two coal cars, a
+baggage car, and one passenger coach&mdash;this last very
+dirty as to floor and windows and very creaky as to
+joints. There were on this occasion but four passengers
+beside Polly; the two fat ladies, who were, if she
+had only known it, members of the first families of
+Conejo; an old man who sat in a corner and read a
+German paper; and a young Mexican, well dressed and
+of a gentlemanly appearance, who sat across the narrow
+aisle from Polly, smoking innumerable cigarettes
+and glancing at her whenever he thought she was not
+looking.</p>
+<p>Polly, however, was too much interested in the
+changes of scenery to notice anything as ordinary as a
+good-looking young man. The country was changing,
+gradually, but still unmistakably changing, from a desert,
+flat and stifling, to a region of small hills and valleys;
+still brownish yellow, but with the monotony of
+mesquite varied by live oaks, and in some cases by
+shallow little streams along whose banks grew cottonwoods,
+their green foliage restful to the eye weary of
+desert bareness.</p>
+<p>Many of the cacti were in their beautiful bloom and
+gave to the country the needed dash of color. Occasionally
+one saw small herds of cattle feeding off the
+short stubby vegetation. They were drawing near the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
+mountains, whose gauntness seemed less when approached.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re like ugly people&mdash;grow better looking as
+you get to know them,&#8221; mused Polly. &#8220;Oh, my gracious,
+what&#8217;s the matter now?&#8221; The puffing little engine
+had given up trying to make the steep grade it had
+been negotiating, and had stopped with one last desperate
+wheeze. No one seemed surprised. The fat ladies
+went on talking and the old man continued to read his
+paper. The trainmen were outside, doing something,
+Polly couldn&#8217;t make out what, perhaps only talking
+about doing something. &#8220;Oh, dear, I wonder what
+has happened!&#8221;</p>
+<p>In her excitement she must have said it aloud, for
+the young man across the way sprang to his feet and
+was at her side instantly. A keen observer might have
+drawn the conclusion that he had been waiting for
+some such opportunity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I beg pardon, señorita, but it is that the engine cannot
+make the grade,&#8221; he volunteered, politely, in English
+almost without an accent&mdash;or perhaps I should say
+with an intonation English rather than American,
+though with a slightly Latin arrangement of phrase.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I see,&#8221; Polly replied blankly. The young
+man had been rather sudden, and he continued to stand
+in a disconcerting way, hat in hand, in the aisle. He
+appeared to be very young, hardly more than nineteen,
+Polly thought, and handsome in a dark way. He had
+large dark eyes, very white teeth, a smooth olive skin
+without the mustache which so many Spaniards wear,
+and a rather prominent under jaw and chin.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;they take the first car
+over to Conejo and then come back for us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean to say that they&#8217;ll leave us here,
+perched on the side of this hill, while they run off with
+the engine?&#8221; demanded Polly, eyeing the trainmen indignantly.
+In fact, she was so busy being indignant
+with them that she omitted to notice that the young
+man had slipped into the seat opposite her. That fact,
+however, had not escaped the fat ladies in the rear, one
+of whom said to the other in shocked Spanish:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is Juan Pachuca!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So it is,&#8221; replied the other. &#8220;I had thought him
+in the South.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who knows where he is? A wicked person, my
+dear, a very wicked person. My sister&#8217;s husband says
+he will get himself shot before he finishes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Undoubtedly,&#8221; said the other, placidly. &#8220;So many
+young men are being shot these days. I thought
+that young woman was an actress&mdash;now I am sure of
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Juan Pachuca to Polly&#8217;s question.
+&#8220;But do not be alarmed. They will come back in a
+couple of hours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A couple of hours!&#8221; The girl&#8217;s voice was horrified.
+&#8220;But I expected to be in Conejo in a couple of
+hours. I&#8217;m in a hurry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One should never be in a hurry in Mexico, señorita,
+it does not&mdash;what is it you say&mdash;it does not pay.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Apparently.&#8221; Polly replied coolly, realizing suddenly
+that this good-looking boy was regarding the
+conversation as a thing established.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span></p>
+<p>The stranger was correct in his guess. Uncoupled
+from the rest of the train, their coach remained poised
+uncomfortably half-way up the hill, while the engine,
+still puffing and wheezing like a stout man going upstairs,
+pulled the open cars and the baggage car up the
+grade and, disappearing through a gap in the hill, became
+only a faint noise and a trail of thin smoke.
+Polly laughed in spite of herself and the young man
+responded with a smile that revealed two dazzling rows
+of teeth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Mañana</i>!&#8221; he laughed. &#8220;So we say down here
+and so we do. You find it amusing, señorita, after
+your country?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s different, you must admit. We at least aim to
+reach places on time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that is the difference&mdash;you aim, we do not,&#8221;
+replied the other, thoughtfully. &#8220;Some day&mdash;but perhaps
+the señorita will get out and have a breath of
+fresh air? There is, alas, plenty of time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A mischievous impulse seized the girl. She felt as
+she used to feel when as a small, fat, freckled youngster
+she had sat still as long as she possibly could in
+school and then despite the teacher&#8217;s stern eye her
+nervous energy had got the better of her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;After all he&#8217;s only a boy,&#8221; she told herself. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+bet he isn&#8217;t any older than my freshmen cousins.
+What&#8217;s the harm?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Outside the sun was hot but the wind was fresh and
+cool.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Through that cut in the mountains and around a
+curve is Conejo,&#8221; said Juan Pachuca, as Polly, glad to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span>
+be out of the hot car, drew long breaths of the splendid
+air. &#8220;You have friends there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In Conejo? Oh no, my brother lives in Athens.
+That&#8217;s where I am going. He is superintendent of a
+coal mine there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Athens? That is some distance from Conejo. Of
+course your brother will meet you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; replied Polly, with the faith of the
+American girl in the male of the species. &#8220;They
+have a little coal train that runs to Conejo and he&#8217;ll
+probably come in on that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think you must be Señorita Street?&#8221; mused the
+young man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; Polly dimpled pleasantly. &#8220;You know Bob
+then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Juan Pachuca&#8217;s dark eyes smiled. &#8220;Not exactly&mdash;but
+I have met him. Me, I have a place south of
+Conejo&mdash;quite a long way&mdash;I am what you might call
+a long-distance neighbor. My name is Pachuca&mdash;Juan
+Pachuca.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see. Are you in the mining business, too?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not now. Oh, I have mining property, but further
+south. My people live in Mexico City. In Sonora I
+have a small ranch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You speak English rather wonderfully, you know,
+señor,&#8221; said the girl. &#8220;But more like an Englishman
+than an American.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is very likely. My sister&mdash;she is much older
+than I&mdash;married an Englishman, and her children had
+English governesses. When I was young I had my
+lessons with them.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></p>
+<p>So from one thing to another the conversation ran,
+very much as it does with two young people of any
+nationalities, granted a common language. Polly talked
+a good deal about Bob. Juan Pachuca seemed interested
+in all the details that she could give him about
+the mine. His manner was very respectful. If he
+had not met many American girls he had evidently
+heard much about them, for he did not seem to misunderstand
+the situation as many Latins would have
+done. Before the girl had realized it the two hours
+were over and the little engine reappeared.</p>
+<p>Conejo should, I believe, be called a town. The
+people who live in it always dignify it by that name
+and they probably have a reason for so doing. To
+one holding advanced ideas as to towns, it seems at a
+first glance to be only a collection of pinkish looking
+adobes which on inspection turn out to be a church, a
+store, a jail, a saloon, a hotel&mdash;at which no one stays
+who has a friend to take him in&mdash;and some private
+houses. It is Juarez without the bull ring, the racetrack
+or the gambling places.</p>
+<p>It is situated rather flatly between two ranges of
+mountains and when Polly Street landed there at
+about six o&#8217;clock&mdash;a trying hour in itself&mdash;it was in
+the grip of a sand-storm. One&#8217;s first sand-storm is
+always a surprise. It looks so innocent from behind
+a window pane; just sand&mdash;blowing about rather
+swiftly, whirling in spirals, beating against the glass,
+piling itself up in drifts&mdash;an interesting sight but not a
+terrifying one.</p>
+<p>Polly had been a little surprised to see the fat ladies
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span>
+array themselves in goggles before descending from
+the train, and had laughingly refused an offer of his
+own from Juan Pachuca, who promptly put them on
+himself. But when she alighted from the train onto
+the platform which extended from the rear end of the
+general merchandise store, and which served as station,
+waiting parlor and baggage-room, she gasped in
+dismay. It was as though thousands of tiny pieces of
+glass had struck her in the face and throat.</p>
+<p>Before she could get her breath they struck her
+again and again; sharp, vindictive, piercing little particles
+they were. She shut her eyes and put her hands
+to her bare throat to protect it. Suddenly she felt a
+hand on her arm and Juan Pachuca&#8217;s voice said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Keep them shut and let me lead you. I told you
+what sand-storms were&mdash;you&#8217;d better have taken the
+goggles.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly succumbed and felt herself being led along the
+platform.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, we&#8217;re in the store,&#8221; said the young man.
+&#8220;Rather nasty, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Awful! I never felt anything like it,&#8221; gasped the
+girl, shaking the sand from her clothes. &#8220;And it
+isn&#8217;t sand, it&#8217;s gravel. No wonder you wear goggles!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I find them most convenient for many purposes,&#8221;
+was the reply.</p>
+<p>Polly noticed that he still had them on though they
+were in the store. They gave him a queer, oldish appearance
+and quite spoiled his good looks. Polly herself
+was beginning to feel disturbed. She wanted Bob
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span>
+and she wanted him immediately. She looked about
+her anxiously.</p>
+<p>The store was larger than it appeared from without
+and carried a varied line of goods piled up on shelves
+or displayed on counters. On one side, it seemed to
+be a grocery store; on the other, dry-goods, shoes, and
+hats were set forth, while in the rear were saddles,
+bridles and other paraphernalia in leather. A big
+stove in the middle of the room gave out a cheerful
+warmth, for the air was growing very cool as the sun
+went down.</p>
+<p>There were a few people, Mexicans and Indians, in
+the place and they all stared curiously at the pretty
+American. Polly did not realize, though she was not
+in the habit of underrating her attractions, how very
+noticeable she was in that environment, as she stood
+there, her tan traveling coat thrown open showing her
+dainty white waist, her short, trim skirt with its big
+plaid squares, and her neat brown silk stockings and
+oxfords. Conejo had not seen her like in many moons
+and it stared its full.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think Bob would be at the station. If I could
+go there&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Polly began, with a little lump in her
+throat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is the station,&#8221; said Pachuca. &#8220;It is Jacob
+Swartz&#8217; store and the station as well.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then something has happened to my letter. He
+never would have disappointed me like this,&#8221; said the
+girl, despairingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is quite possible. If you would let me serve
+you in this matter, señorita? I have a car at the house
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span>
+of a friend just out of town. I am driving to my ranch
+in it to-morrow. If you would let me drive you to
+Athens&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Drive in an open car in that?&#8221; the girl pointed to
+the whirling sand outside. &#8220;How could we?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Easily. Once on our way into the mountains we
+will leave it behind us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, thank you very much, señor, you&#8217;re very kind,
+but if Bob doesn&#8217;t come I can go to some friends of
+his, English people, the Morgans, and they will drive
+me over in the morning.&#8221; She was conscious of a
+sudden desire to get away from this polite youth who
+stuck so tightly. It was all very well to let him amuse
+her on the train&mdash;that was adventure; but to drive with
+him through a strange country at night would be pure
+madness. She thought he stiffened a bit at her words.</p>
+<p>&#8220;English people? Oh, yes, undoubtedly that will
+be wise. Swartz can probably tell you where to find
+them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, of course.&#8221; Polly was glad to see that he was
+going to leave her. &#8220;Thank you again, señor, for
+your kindness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It has been a great pleasure,&#8221; and the young man
+was gone.</p>
+<p>Polly clenched her hands nervously. Where, oh,
+where was Bob? Why hadn&#8217;t she telegraphed instead
+of trusting to a letter? At this juncture her glance fell
+upon a small counter over which the sign P. O. was
+displayed. Behind the counter sat a stout man in spectacles&mdash;Jacob
+Swartz, undoubtedly. Polly accosted
+him timidly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Has anyone been in from Athens to-day?&#8221; she
+said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Athens? Sure, dere train come up dis morning;
+dey wendt back an hour ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Was Mr. Street here&mdash;Mr. Robert Street?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, joost the train gang. Dey wendt back when
+dey got dere mail.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do&mdash;do they come every day for the mail?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, joost twice a week. Dere mail ain&#8217;t so heavy
+it can&#8217;t wait dat long.&#8221; Swartz peered benevolently
+over his spectacles.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m Mr. Street&#8217;s sister. I wrote him I was coming,
+but I suppose if he only gets his mail twice a
+week he hasn&#8217;t had my letter.&#8221; Polly bit her lip impatiently.
+&#8220;I want to go over to the Morgans&mdash;Mr.
+Jack Morgan. Can you show me where they
+live?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure can I,&#8221; replied Swartz, lumbering to his feet.
+&#8220;You can from the door see it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly followed him in relief, when suddenly the door
+opened and a little old lady literally blew in. She
+stamped her feet as though it were snow instead of
+sand that clung to her, and disengaged her head from
+the thick white veil in which she had wrapped it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mein Gott, it is old lady Morgan, herself,&#8221; said
+Swartz, nudging Polly, pleasantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that? Somebody wanting me?&#8221; replied
+the lady, still occupied with the veil. &#8220;Where&#8217;s that
+tea I told you to send me this morning, Swartz? A
+fine thing to make me come out in all this for a pound
+of tea, just because I&#8217;ve nobody to send and two sick
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span>
+children on my hands! What? Oh, I can&#8217;t hear you!
+Who d&#8217;you say wants me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was a thin, bent old lady with straggly gray hair
+and a very sharp penetrating voice. Polly felt the
+lump in her throat growing larger. Was this the jolly
+pretty Mrs. Jack Morgan that Bob had written about
+so often?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dis young voman&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; began Swartz, heavily.</p>
+<p>Polly stepped forward.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Morgan, this is Bob Street&#8217;s sister. He has
+often written us about you and your husband.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Husband? She ain&#8217;t got no husband,&#8221; interrupted
+Mr. Swartz, heatedly. &#8220;Ain&#8217;t I told you dis iss de old
+lady&mdash;Jack Morgan&#8217;s mother?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m a little hard of hearing, my dear. Who did
+you say you were?&#8221; asked Jack Morgan&#8217;s mother, patiently.</p>
+<p>Polly repeated her explanation, adding a few more
+particulars, all as loudly as possible. They had now
+an interested audience of Mexicans and Indians, male
+and female, old and young, who found the scene none
+the less attractive because they did not understand it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I suppose he didn&#8217;t get your letter,&#8221; said
+Mrs. Morgan. &#8220;Jack and his wife have gone over to
+spend a few days with some friends in Mescal or
+they&#8217;d run you over in the car.&#8221; There was a pause
+as Polly digested this unwelcome bit of news, then the
+old lady continued: &#8220;They&#8217;d only been gone two days
+when both the children came down with mumps, and
+my Mexican woman&#8217;s husband had to take that time
+to join the army, so, of course, she had to leave. If
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span>
+things weren&#8217;t so messed up I&#8217;d take you home with
+me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no,&#8221; said Polly, promptly. &#8220;I couldn&#8217;t think
+of it. If I could just get somebody to drive me
+over&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Both she and Mrs. Morgan looked at
+Swartz.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mendoza might if he ain&#8217;t drunk&mdash;sometimes he
+ain&#8217;t,&#8221; volunteered that gentleman.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;d like him,&#8221; shivered Polly.
+&#8220;Isn&#8217;t there anybody else?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody with a car,&#8221; replied Mrs. Morgan. &#8220;It&#8217;d
+take you till morning to drive over&mdash;the roads are awful.
+Mendoza is a very decent old thing. You go
+and see if you can get him, Swartz,&#8221; and Swartz lumbered
+away. Old lady Morgan understood how to
+make herself obeyed. &#8220;Have you tried to get Athens
+on the &#8217;phone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Telephone?&#8221; A smile broke over Polly&#8217;s unhappy
+face. &#8220;Why, I never thought of that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good heavens, child, where do you think you are?
+Here, I&#8217;ll get them for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She led the way to the office.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t seen your brother since he went up to
+Douglas to get married,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t know
+they&#8217;d come home.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, they must be home,&#8221; said Polly, an awful
+doubt coming into her mind. &#8220;They&mdash;they must be
+home!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Morgan seized the receiver and began exchanging
+insults with the invisible Central. After several
+minutes she gave up the effort.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s no use, I can&#8217;t raise them&mdash;our service is
+dreadful down here,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Now, I&#8217;ll tell you
+what to do. I&#8217;ve got to run home before the baby
+wakes up; if he can&#8217;t get Mendoza, you come on down
+to the house and stay the night with me. See, it&#8217;s the
+last house&mdash;got a Union Jack flying from it. If I
+don&#8217;t see you in half an hour I&#8217;ll know you&#8217;ve gone
+with Mendoza. You needn&#8217;t be afraid of him&mdash;he&#8217;s
+half dead but he can drive a Ford,&#8221; and the voluble
+old lady was gone.</p>
+<p>Polly wondered for a moment whether she most
+wanted to laugh or cry. Homesickness and fatigue
+suggested the latter, but a wild sense of humor
+poised between the decrepit Mendoza and the deaf
+Mrs. Morgan won the day. Polly chuckled. Then
+realizing that it was nearly seven and that she had had
+nothing to eat since noon, she went to the counter and
+bought of a Mexican youth, evidently a helper, some
+crackers. They were in a box and looked a degree
+cleaner than anything else. The population had
+wearied of the American lady and had gone its various
+ways. Polly sat forlornly on a high stool and
+munched her crackers until Swartz returned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No good,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Mendoza&#8217;s sick and he
+won&#8217;t let nobody else drive de car. You better go
+stay mit de old lady.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; said the girl, rising. &#8220;I suppose I can
+leave my trunk on your back porch?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Vy not? Ain&#8217;t it der station? Vere should you
+leaf it?&#8221; replied Swartz, hospitably.</p>
+<p>Polly stepped out of the front door. The sand
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span>
+blizzard was undoubtedly on the wane. The wind
+was less violent but much cooler. The sun had
+dropped behind the mountains and the dusk was descending
+upon the little Mexican town. A few of the
+houses showed a light, but more of them were dark.
+The Morgan house, a very long way down the street,
+it seemed to the girl, was lit and she started to go
+toward it. A sense of desolation, a forlornness greater
+than she had ever known in all her short life descended
+upon her. She swallowed quickly and increased her
+pace. It wasn&#8217;t fear, she reflected, it was worse than
+fear; it was the awful loneliness of one who had never
+been really alone in her life.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the first night at boarding-school multiplied by
+a thousand,&#8221; she sobbed softly. &#8220;Oh, why did I come
+to this awful place? I simply can&#8217;t stay all night with
+that deaf woman and those mumpy children! I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She jumped back in time to avoid an automobile
+which seemed to flash out of nothingness at her elbow.
+As she stood looking after it a wild hope came into
+her head that it might be Bob after all. The car
+stopped and a man jumped out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it you, señorita?&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;alone and in
+the dark?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was Juan Pachuca. Polly sighed, disappointed to
+tears. She tried to explain the situation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But in two hours I will have you in Athens,&#8221; he
+begged. &#8220;Or is it that you wish to stay with these
+people?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I don&#8217;t wish to stay! The children
+have the mumps and the poor old lady is nearly wild.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Come. Give me that bag. So&mdash;I thought all
+Americans were sensible people!&#8221; And before Polly
+could object she found herself seated in the car with
+Juan Pachuca driving silently at her side.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IV_JUAN_PACHUCA' id='IV_JUAN_PACHUCA'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h3>JUAN PACHUCA</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>About half an hour after his conversation with Mrs.
+Van Zandt, Marc Scott drove the buckboard with its
+two lively horses out on the Conejo road. Beside him
+sat a blond dog of mixed genealogy answering to the
+name of &#8220;Yellow.&#8221; Scott had put on a coat over his
+flannel shirt, tucked his trousers into a pair of riding
+boots, and replaced his sombrero with a soft cloth hat.
+These changes having been made in honor of the visitor,
+he felt that his duty had been fulfilled and he addressed
+Yellow ruminatively:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I expect we got to brush up a bit on our
+manners if we&#8217;re going to have a young lady around,
+eh, Yellow? Going to be some strain on us both, I&#8217;ll
+say. Funny idea to run off to a place like this just
+because you&#8217;ve quarreled with your young man! Got
+the temper that goes with red hair, I guess. I remember
+a red-haired girl I used to know in Detroit&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; A
+grin succeeded the worried look on Scott&#8217;s face; evidently
+the adventure with the red-haired girl had had
+its humorous side.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, get up, Romeo, we&#8217;ve got to reach that girl
+before Mendoza dumps her in the ditch and gets her
+mussed up or the boss&#8217;ll fire us both.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Romeo, a good-looking gray, with an excitable nature,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span>
+snorted as he felt the touch of the whip and
+dragged his gentler mate into a lively trot. A new
+moon, clear cut and beautiful, was rising behind them,
+over the tall mountains, making the valley&mdash;so bare by
+day&mdash;lovely and mysterious in its half light.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No kind of a night to be driving around with a
+dog, Yellow,&#8221; remarked the driver, reproachfully.
+&#8220;Men and moonlight are made for better things.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The horses trotted briskly; they were covering
+ground rapidly. They ought, Marc figured, to meet
+the machine this side of Junipero Hill, a steep and cruel
+grade which he would be glad to spare his horses if
+he could. If Mendoza was making any sort of speed
+he ought to have come that far. He began to watch
+for the lights of the machine. The girl must be
+plucky, even if she was foolish, to dare a trip like this
+with a strange Mexican.</p>
+<p>Well, he was glad Bob&#8217;s sister was nervy; he liked
+nervy girls and he liked Bob. Usually fellows who
+came out from college and took positions over other
+men&#8217;s heads made fools of themselves; but Bob was
+not a fool. He was a decent, likable young chap, who
+knew he had been luckier than the next fellow and
+who took no advantage of it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which is more than you can say of most rich
+men&#8217;s sons,&#8221; soliloquized Scott. &#8220;But then why
+should you expect sense from a rich man&#8217;s son?
+Where&#8217;d they get it? It&#8217;s hard knocks gives a man
+sense&mdash;if he&#8217;s ever going to get it, which most of them
+ain&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was loneliness in the air. Scott, who was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span>
+temperamental, as out-of-doors men often are, felt it
+keenly. It brought before him more clearly the loneliness
+of his own life, a life spent in out-of-the-way
+places, largely among men; a life with no roots, he
+sometimes felt. Yet he would not have traded his
+freedom, he would have told you, for any woman, for
+a home or for children. To be foot loose, to go where
+fancy called him, to have no ties&mdash;no clogs upon his
+precious liberty, that was what he loved.</p>
+<p>He was fond of women, too. He liked being with
+them and he liked measuring each one he met with
+his ideal, a hazy creature who probably did not exist.
+Well, he rather hoped she didn&#8217;t, or if she did that
+he would never meet her. He had known too many
+men who had traded their freedom for a home and a
+fireside and who, once bound, had never been able to
+go back to the old life. It had not always been the
+women who had held them, either; the men themselves
+had seemed to change&mdash;to deteriorate, Scott
+would have said&mdash;to have lost the energy and the vigor
+that made life worth while. You cannot get anything
+for nothing and you paid for the happiness you might
+find in marriage with the loss of the one thing which
+was to him the most important thing in all life&mdash;liberty.</p>
+<p>So they jogged along, Scott whistling to keep himself
+company. Occasionally, Yellow would insist upon
+getting out for a run, but he seemed glad to return.
+After a while it began to seem odd to Scott that he did
+not see the lights of Mendoza&#8217;s car. Even a cautious
+driver should have made the distance by this time.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></p>
+<p>Suddenly, an idea popped into his head&mdash;one of those
+clammy ideas, which come instantly, and come with a
+chill; ideas that are positively physical in the way in
+which they affect one. Suppose it was Mendoza&#8217;s car
+with someone else driving it? Someone of the score
+of half-breeds who hung around the livery stable where
+the car was kept? Scott leaned over and laid the whip
+on the innocent Romeo.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My God, horse, we&#8217;ve got to go some the rest of
+the way! If&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He did not finish the sentence. They had reached
+the top of a hill and he put on the brake as they
+started down. At the foot of the hill stood an automobile&mdash;not
+Mendoza&#8217;s shabby little Ford&mdash;but a big
+car with two large headlights. It was turned across
+the road and not a soul was in sight. Scott took his
+foot off the brake and with a muttered curse let the
+buckboard rattle down the hill.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Polly&#8217;s first sensation, as she sank into the comfortable
+seat next the driver and buried her face in the
+collar of her coat, was one of intense relief. This was
+something that seemed like home. She felt herself
+being whirled up the streets of Conejo with the feeling
+of one who is escaping, the flight being for the time
+of more importance than the fashion in which one flies.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think you will be cold,&#8221; said a polite voice at her
+elbow. &#8220;Wait&mdash;I have a robe.&#8221; And a blanket which
+smelled of the stable rather than of the garage was
+wrapped carefully around her. &#8220;In a few moments
+we shall be out of this sand.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span></p>
+<p>For a while they rode in silence, then the girl said,
+apologetically:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am so sorry. I didn&#8217;t want you to go to all this
+trouble&mdash;but I couldn&#8217;t stay in that awful place when
+Bob is so near!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you think Conejo is bad I wonder what you
+would think of some of our towns further south?
+They are ruins.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ruins?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ten years of revolution&mdash;they do not improve a
+country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly did not reply. She peeped out of her collar
+and saw that Pachuca&#8217;s prophecy was fulfilled. They
+had ridden out of the area of the sand-storm and were
+getting into the foothills where the air was cold and
+clear. They faced the new moon which gave an eerie
+look to everything&mdash;the distant mountains, the foothills
+with their weird patches of vegetation, tall cacti
+and dark looking arroyos. Far, far in their rear could
+be seen the few feeble lights of Conejo. It began to
+dawn upon an awed Polly that she was doing not an
+unconventional but a distinctly risky thing.</p>
+<p>What did she know about this good-looking boy
+who sat beside her, guiding the car so expertly through
+the ruts and chuck holes that chopped up the road?
+Suppose he turned out to be&mdash;she caught her breath
+angrily! He was no common Mexican but a gentleman
+and one was not afraid of men of one&#8217;s own
+class, she told herself. She would not be afraid. She
+hated people who were afraid. She was having a
+wonderful experience; the sort of an experience that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
+girls read about but didn&#8217;t have, and she was going to
+enjoy it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I forgot to ask you if you had anything to eat,&#8221;
+said Juan Pachuca. &#8220;You didn&#8217;t, did you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had crackers,&#8221; said Polly. &#8220;What did you
+have?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was more fortunate. I found my friend at
+dinner,&#8221; replied the young man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where were you going when you met me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eventually to my ranch, but first to find you. I
+did not think you would stay with the Señora Morgan.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly laughed in spite of herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t,&#8221; she confessed. &#8220;Do you know, she
+seemed to think it doubtful that Bob and Emma had
+come back to Athens? I wonder why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; replied the Mexican, &#8220;she thought the
+country not quite safe for a young lady.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I thought things were settling down?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There will be no settling down until after the
+elections.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The elections?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You would not understand. Americans never do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps some of us might if you gave us a chance;
+but when you go rearing and pitching around, killing us
+and raiding border towns like that murderous
+Villa&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In war there is no murder,&#8221; said Juan Pachuca,
+calmly. &#8220;And Villa is a friend of mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I can&#8217;t help it, and I think it&#8217;s very strange
+for a well brought up boy like you to be friends with
+a man like Villa.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></p>
+<p>Pachuca laughed as he glanced at the girl&#8217;s wrathful
+face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why do you call me a well brought up boy?&#8221; he
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because you are, aren&#8217;t you? You remind me a
+lot of a cousin of mine who&#8217;s just entering college.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How old is the cousin?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nineteen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I was nineteen I was a colonel in the army,&#8221;
+said Juan Pachuca, whimsically. &#8220;That was six
+years ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good gracious!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, in our country we don&#8217;t take boys of nineteen
+very seriously,&#8221; said Polly, a little upset. &#8220;Did
+you fight much?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A good deal. I suppose then that young men of
+nineteen do not fall in love either in your country?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, they do, but nobody pays much attention
+to them. We call it puppy love.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Puppy love!&#8221; Juan frowned. &#8220;You are a
+strange people&mdash;you Americans.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I suppose we are but we like ourselves that
+way. Do you think that engine of yours is all right?
+It sounds queer to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It gives me trouble sometimes. It needs what
+you call an overhauling, but it will take us to
+Athens.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly, with an ear trained to engine sounds, wondered
+whether it would. She felt that the last straw
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span>
+would be to be stranded in the middle of the night in
+a lonely spot with this good-looking young man, who,
+to make matters worse, had turned out to be twenty-five
+instead of nineteen. Again they sat in silence
+while the machine wrenched itself in and out of ruts
+and through arroyos.</p>
+<p>She found herself wondering what his life had been?
+A colonel at nineteen! She remembered the boys she
+had known in our own army, boys she had fed and
+sewed for on their way to France. They, too, had
+seemed young, but she felt a great difference. This
+young man suggested things of which Polly knew little.
+She wondered whether it was imagination that
+made her fancy that he had played a part in life which
+does not usually fall to twenty-five, except in a country
+so disordered, so desperate as Mexico.</p>
+<p>Some of her boy friends who had come back from
+France and Belgium had carried in their faces some
+such suggestion, but only a few. For the most part
+they had come back as they went over, those who had
+returned whole; husky, lively, youngish chaps&mdash;more
+restless, less satisfied with life at home, perhaps, but
+not older particularly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s why he seems odd to me,&#8221; she concluded.
+&#8220;He&#8217;s done and seen things that a fellow his age
+hasn&#8217;t any business to have done and seen&mdash;that is, the
+way we look at it at home. Oh dear, I wonder if we&#8217;re
+ever going to get there? I can&#8217;t keep still much longer
+and yet I hate to stir him up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The girls in your country, do they fall in love at
+nineteen?&#8221; said Juan Pachuca, suddenly. There was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span>
+a softness in his voice that under other conditions&mdash;say,
+in a ballroom&mdash;Polly would probably have described
+as melting. In her present environment it
+struck her less pleasantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Girls? Oh, yes, of course they do; but not in the
+desperate, hot-headed way your young ladies do. At
+least, not usually. Of course some girls do queer
+things and get into the newspapers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, our young ladies do not get into the newspapers,&#8221;
+commented Juan Pachuca. &#8220;They are guarded
+quite carefully; that is, our girls of good family. Most
+of them are very beautiful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But aren&#8217;t they just a little bit tiresome? I mean,
+just being beautiful and guarded and all that sort of
+thing. At home we like a girl who has seen a little of
+life,&#8221; apologetically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a young lady of family!&#8221; said Pachuca, decidedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, of course, in America we don&#8217;t think a lot
+about family, though it&#8217;s nice to have it if you can.
+We think more of education and getting on in the
+world. Señor, I wish you would get down and look
+at that engine; there&#8217;s something awfully wrong with
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly spoke suddenly for Juan Pachuca was leaning
+very close to her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your young ladies are charming,&#8221; he said, softly.
+&#8220;I had always heard it and now I know it is true.&#8221;
+His black eyes were dancing; it would have taken
+some guessing to know whether with excitement or
+laughter or both. &#8220;Do they ever forget themselves so
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span>
+far as to allow themselves a love affair on a silver
+night when&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, they do not,&#8221; said Polly, half severely and
+half amused. It was difficult to take Juan Pachuca&#8217;s
+rudeness seriously and yet&mdash;oh, why had she come?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a desperate, hot-headed love affair such as
+pleases the young ladies of my country,&#8221; he pursued,
+seizing the hand so near him. &#8220;But one of those&mdash;what
+do you call them in your tongue&mdash;flirtations?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He was laughing but there was a smoldering fire
+back of the laughter, and the grasp of his hand was
+strong.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor, now please&mdash;remember that I didn&#8217;t come
+with you because I wanted to, but because I had to!
+Please!&#8221; For Pachuca&#8217;s arm had slid itself deftly
+around her and was drawing her toward him, gently,
+but with an exceeding firmness, while the dancing dark
+eyes continued to laugh into hers. &#8220;There, see what
+you&#8217;ve done!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The big car had given a most unwieldy lurch,
+wedged a tire in a rut, bounced a couple of times,
+and stopped&mdash;providentially&mdash;on the edge of the deep
+gully that fringed the road.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is nothing,&#8221; declared the young man, a bit
+stunned by the suddenness of the affair. The car,
+however, refusing to back, gave him the lie. Polly
+tore herself from his detaining arm and was out in the
+road.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you had an electric torch I could tell you what
+it is,&#8221; she said, trying to control both nerves and temper,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span>
+for she was both frightened and angry. &#8220;Have
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think so,&#8221; replied Pachuca, a little stiffly. &#8220;But,
+please, dear lady, do not get down in the dirt! I beg
+of you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind. I know every little pain an engine
+can have. I drove an emergency car at home during
+the war,&#8221; said Polly, curtly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed?&#8221; Juan Pachuca&#8217;s voice was cool. The
+young lady was business-like&mdash;too business-like to flirt
+with&mdash;and yet&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, it&#8217;s not that.&#8221; Polly shook the curls out of
+her eyes and slammed the cover of the radiator.
+&#8220;Where do you think it is? You ought to know something
+about this car; you&#8217;ve been driving it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca&#8217;s eyes danced. What was the use of being
+stiff with an American? They were all alike&mdash;the men
+after money, and the women after what they called
+independence!</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think,&#8221; he said, demurely, &#8220;that it must be
+attacked from underneath, if you will hold the
+torch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right.&#8221; Polly smiled. &#8220;Go ahead. If you
+can&#8217;t find it, I&#8217;ll try.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thus it was that Marc Scott&#8217;s first acquaintance
+with Polly Street came as he pulled the excited team
+to its haunches within a few feet of the automobile,
+and she, holding Juan Pachuca&#8217;s torch, jumped to her
+feet and faced him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; she cried, eagerly, &#8220;is that you, Bob?&#8221;
+Then, seeing more clearly, &#8220;I beg your pardon!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span>
+We&#8217;ve had trouble with the car, but we&#8217;ve fixed it and
+we&#8217;ll be out of the way in a moment.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not Bob Street, but I&#8217;m from Athens, and I&#8217;m
+looking for Bob&#8217;s sister. I guess you must be her,&#8221;
+replied Scott. &#8220;Well, who are you?&#8221; he added, as
+Juan Pachuca&#8217;s legs emerged from the car, followed by
+his body.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not Mendoza&mdash;he&#8217;s sick,&#8221; volunteered Polly.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s a gentleman who was in the train and who kindly
+drove me over. Where is my brother?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your letter only came to-night,&#8221; stammered Scott,
+&#8220;and in the same mail we had one from your brother
+in Douglas, saying he had been called East&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;East!&#8221; The blow was too sudden; Polly&#8217;s legs
+collapsed. She sat down on the running-board of the
+machine and gasped. In the meantime Juan Pachuca
+stepped to the buckboard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is Señor Scott?&#8221; he said pleasantly. &#8220;We have
+met before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott surveyed him thoughtfully. &#8220;Well, by
+the Lord, if it ain&#8217;t Johnny Pachuca! Of all the
+nerve&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly,&#8221; grinned Pachuca, appreciatively. &#8220;You
+are surprised, eh? What are you going to do about
+it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That depends upon how you&#8217;ve treated the young
+lady,&#8221; said Marc, quietly, &#8220;and on your general behavior,&#8221;
+he added, with a reciprocal grin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t I told you that he was kind enough to
+drive me over?&#8221; said Polly, impatiently. &#8220;And
+if&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That being the case,&#8221; replied Scott, &#8220;I don&#8217;t know
+as there&#8217;s anything I can do except say much obliged,
+and keep my eye on my horse-flesh. If you&#8217;ll get into
+the wagon, Miss &mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, he&#8217;s all right,&#8221; said Pachuca, airily, as the girl
+hesitated. &#8220;He&#8217;s the manager of the Athens mine&mdash;Marc
+Scott&mdash;a very decent fellow. I regret being deprived
+of your company, señorita, but he evidently intends
+to take you back with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any baggage?&#8221; demanded Scott, gruffly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;One trunk,&#8221; replied Polly, rather dazed by the suddenness
+of the affair. &#8220;But it&#8217;s back at Conejo.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Want any help with that car?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, thank you, the young lady and I have remedied
+the trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course there&#8217;s no use in my asking if there&#8217;s
+any particular reason for your being in this neighborhood,
+Pachuca?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is always a reason for my being where I
+am,&#8221; was the suave reply. &#8220;This time it does not
+concern you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s good. No revolutions up your sleeve,
+eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca chuckled. &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t be too sure of that,
+<i>amigo</i>,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Would you take the advice of a
+friend, Marc Scott?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I might, if you&#8217;d guarantee he ain&#8217;t lying.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then tell your people to close up their mine, take
+their women and get out of the country. There is
+trouble coming,&#8221; and the young Mexican bowed politely
+to the girl and returned to his machine.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, what do you suppose the young devil meant
+by that?&#8221; demanded Scott, as he turned the team and
+faced the hill again. Polly&#8217;s eyes were wide open.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is he?&#8221; she said, eagerly. &#8220;You seemed to
+know him. Does he really live near here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I believe he has a ranch about here somewhere&mdash;some
+ways south. As to where he lives I reckon he
+could hardly tell you that himself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But where did you know him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know him. I don&#8217;t want to know him.
+The last time I saw him was when Villa stopped over
+with us on one of his retreats. This guy was with
+him. That little visit cost us a dozen good horses,
+two hundred dollars, and our winter&#8217;s supply of canned
+goods. He&#8217;s an expensive acquaintance, that fellow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly&#8217;s face was full of horror. &#8220;Do you mean,&#8221;
+she gasped, &#8220;that I&#8217;ve been riding around the country
+with a Mexican bandit?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I don&#8217;t know as I&#8217;d call him a bandit.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He told me that he was a colonel in the army!&#8221;
+indignantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he was, so I&#8217;ve heard. He&#8217;s been quite a
+lot of things. Maybe we&#8217;d better not talk about him
+any more to-night. It&#8217;s kind of exciting for you after
+all you&#8217;ve been through.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exciting!&#8221; Polly sank back in her seat limply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was all right to you, wasn&#8217;t he?&#8221; continued
+Scott, a little shyly. &#8220;Wasn&#8217;t fresh or anything like
+that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, he was all right,&#8221; murmured the girl,
+quickly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;These Mexicans are queer. You can&#8217;t tell what
+they&#8217;ll do,&#8221; went on Scott. &#8220;Sometimes they&#8217;ve got
+manners like the President of the United States, and
+the next time they&#8217;ll do something that&#8217;d disgrace a
+pirate. Take &#8217;em all around as they go, I guess Pachuca
+stacks up pretty well. He&#8217;s educated and comes
+of good folks. But how the deuce did you happen&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I suppose it does sound awful!&#8221; Polly said,
+in a rush. &#8220;But he was on the train and when the
+horrid little thing stopped on the side of a hill for two
+hours, he came along and explained what was the
+matter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He talks English like a Bostonese,&#8221; said Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t he? And anything that sounds like Boston
+just naturally puts confidence in a Chicagoan, don&#8217;t
+you know? Then when I landed at Conejo in that
+wild sand-storm with no one to meet me and the Morgans
+out of town, he offered to drive me over, and I
+let him. It didn&#8217;t seem far; why, at home we often
+drive that far in an evening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, driving around the boulevard with your
+friends is one thing, and around this sort of country
+with a strange Mexican is another.&#8221; Scott paused at the
+sight of the girl&#8217;s penitent face, and changed the subject.
+&#8220;As for your brother, we had a letter from him
+to-night saying that he and the bride had gone East.
+The directors sent for him, so they started pronto. I
+reckon Miss Emma&#8217;s folks coaxed them to stay in
+Douglas a few days after the wedding&mdash;we had expected
+them here before this.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But how did you know&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott cleared his throat nervously. &#8220;Well, you see,
+he wrote me to read all his mail&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he stopped,
+abruptly. &#8220;Go on, Romeo!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see. You opened my letter and found out that I
+was coming, and came to meet me. I am very much
+obliged to you.&#8221; The words were pleasant enough
+but the tone was cool.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s on the trail,&#8221; Scott thought, disconsolately.
+&#8220;She&#8217;s running over in her mind what she said in
+that letter, and when she remembers, it&#8217;s going to be a
+good idea to get home as soon as possible.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After this, the silence was extremely marked. Scott,
+feeling the discomfort of it, continued:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s too bad for you to have had this long trip and
+then miss your brother after all, but I guess he&#8217;ll be
+back soon, the way things are looking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>More silence, but Scott was not going to be scared
+out of his good intentions.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon we can make you pretty comfortable till
+he comes. We&#8217;ve got a mighty pleasant lady running
+the boarding-house just now and she&#8217;ll be glad enough
+to have another white woman on the place.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The silence still continuing, he gave up. &#8220;Hang it,
+if she won&#8217;t talk, she won&#8217;t,&#8221; he thought. Then as he
+turned to tuck in a flying end of robe he saw the girl&#8217;s
+face. &#8220;Great guns, she&#8217;s asleep&mdash;poor kid!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The end of a far from perfect day had come for
+Polly Street, and even an uncomfortable seat with a
+hard back and the joltings of a rough road had failed
+to keep her awake. She was asleep, sitting up, her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span>
+head drooping, her body relaxed. In a few seconds
+she would be leaning comfortably on the broad shoulder
+next her. Without interrupting the team&#8217;s even
+trot, Scott leaned down, fished another blanket from
+under the seat and arranged it on the back of the seat
+between them just in time to receive Polly&#8217;s sleepy
+head, so that she rested half on the blanket, and half
+on his own steady bulk for the rest of the trip.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poor youngster, she has had a day of it,&#8221; the man
+said softly, as he arranged the blanket carefully around
+her. &#8220;And, by gum, I&#8217;ll bet she hasn&#8217;t had a mouthful
+to eat since noon! Well, women have endurance,
+I&#8217;ll say they have. Built like Angora kittens and with
+the constitutions of beef critters. Go on, Romeo&mdash;I
+don&#8217;t want her fainting with hunger on my hands,
+she&#8217;s mad enough at me now.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='V_POLLY_ARRIVES' id='V_POLLY_ARRIVES'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>POLLY ARRIVES</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was midnight when the buckboard stopped in
+front of the company house where Mrs. Van Zandt and
+Henry Hard assisted the drowsy Polly out of the
+wagon, while Scott painstakingly performed the introductions.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing to eat since noon!&#8221; gasped Mrs. Van
+Zandt, in horror. &#8220;What on earth was old lady Morgan
+thinking of? Mr. Hard, if you&#8217;ll throw some
+more wood into the stove, I&#8217;ll put on the percolator
+and run down to the dining-room for some sandwiches.&#8221;
+She ran off in one direction, while Scott
+drove the team in another, leaving Hard to do the
+honors.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a shame to have things happen this way,&#8221; he
+said. &#8220;A thousand times I&#8217;ve heard Bob talk about
+having you come down here, and now that you&#8217;ve
+come, he&#8217;s flying in another direction.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s my own fault,&#8221; admitted Polly, honestly.
+&#8220;We are all so sudden in our family&mdash;make up our
+minds and hardly wait to write or telegraph. I might
+have known that Bob would be doing something just
+as queer as I was. How comfortably you have this
+place fixed! Am I turning you out of it?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we&#8217;re tramps, Scott and I. We thought it
+would be pleasanter for you to be here with Mrs. Van
+Zandt, so we moved ourselves out. We rather like
+changing about.&#8221; He built up the fire and adjusted
+the percolator, while Polly divested herself of her hat
+and coat and sat down in a comfortable chair.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It won&#8217;t be for long,&#8221; she said, decidedly. &#8220;I
+shall go back as soon as I can now that Bob and Emma
+are home.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope you won&#8217;t. Apart from the very great
+pleasure that it gives us all to see someone from home,
+it would be a pity to let you go back without seeing
+some of the country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly laughed in spite of her weariness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It seems to me as though I&#8217;d seen the entire country
+of Mexico to-day,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Such a trip!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t it, though? The first time I made it I said:
+&#8216;Here is where I locate for life and found a colony.
+I&#8217;ll never have the courage to go home.&#8217; But I got
+over it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt bustling in, followed by Scott, their
+hands full of provisions, found the two chatting sociably.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d have had cake for you,&#8221; volunteered the former,
+&#8220;if Dolores and her beau hadn&#8217;t ate it all on me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s like a midnight feast at boarding-school,&#8221;
+chuckled the visitor, waked up by the coffee.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s like the spreads we used to have when we was
+on the road,&#8221; said Mrs. Van Zandt, meditatively.</p>
+<p>&#8220;On the road?&#8221; Polly&#8217;s eyes opened wide.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Van was one of the original &#8216;Floradora Sextette,&#8217;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span>
+remarked Scott, soberly. &#8220;The only one who
+didn&#8217;t marry a millionaire.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A lot you know about it,&#8221; retorted the lady. &#8220;I
+was in the &#8216;Prince of Pilsen,&#8217;&#8221; she informed Polly,
+confidentially. &#8220;I understudied the &#8216;Widow&#8217; on the
+road. It was an interesting life,&#8221; she concluded,
+thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It must have been,&#8221; replied Polly, politely. &#8220;How
+did you happen to come West?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me? Oh, I came West with an invalid,&#8221; replied
+Mrs. Van, easily. &#8220;She was one of the cranky kind&mdash;middle-aged
+and none of her family could live with
+her. You&#8217;ve seen that kind? They wanted she should
+have a trained nurse and the trained nurse never was
+born that she could get along with. Trained nurses
+are awful bossy&mdash;they can&#8217;t help it, they&#8217;re supposed to
+be; that&#8217;s all the difference there is between them and
+the ones that ain&#8217;t trained. So I come out to look
+after her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did she die?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not she. Get it out of your head that lungers always
+die&mdash;they don&#8217;t. She got well and went home
+and nagged the life out of her family for years. Last
+I heard of her, she&#8217;d taken up with a young fellow she
+met at a skating rink and her folks were wild for fear
+she&#8217;d marry him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you stayed out West?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and sometimes I&#8217;ve regretted it. New York&#8217;s
+the place to live. I had a swell flat in a good neighborhood
+and rented rooms to single gents and business
+women&mdash;they&#8217;re the ones that have the money. It was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span>
+interesting, too. I&#8217;d put an &#8216;ad&#8217; in the Sunday paper
+and all day Monday folks would be coming to see my
+rooms; I met some real nice people that way. Well, I
+think you&#8217;d better be turning in; you&#8217;ll feel this to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott and Hard rose and said good-night.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a plucky girl, Scott,&#8221; said the latter, as they
+walked down the silent road together.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know who brought her over from Conejo?&#8221;
+demanded Scott, with a chuckle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought you said Mendoza did.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mendoza&#8217;s sick and she took a dislike to old Mrs.
+Morgan, so she came over with Juan Pachuca in his
+car.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re joking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am not. I drove as far as Junipero Hill and
+when I got to the top of it I saw a big car at the foot,
+twisted about, almost in the ditch. I found Johnny
+on his stomach under the car and the girl holding an
+electric torch for him. She said she&#8217;d been underneath
+giving him a hand with it. I wouldn&#8217;t put it past her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the child must be out of her head,&#8221; protested
+Hard, weakly. &#8220;They don&#8217;t do those things&mdash;even in
+these degenerate days.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess you and me are behind the times, Henry.
+And then, you know Pachuca&#8217;s manners. Something
+between the King of Spain and Chauncey Depew. Any
+woman&#8217;d fall for them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But nothing. Pachuca brought her over and he
+behaved himself while he was doing it as near as I can
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span>
+find out. What I want to know is what the smooth
+young devil wants around here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If there&#8217;s a revolution in the air, Pachuca would
+throw in his lot with Obregon and De la Huerta.
+What he thinks about the First Chief is unprintable.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He had the cheek to tell me to close up the mine
+and get out of the country,&#8221; grinned Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That may mean something and it may not.
+They&#8217;re keen about their bit of melodrama, these chaps.
+My El Paso paper says that there is a rumor again
+about troops having been ordered in from Chihuahua.
+That looks as though they were afraid of something.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Or else were trying to stir up something,&#8221; replied
+the other. &#8220;Obregon&#8217;s never going to stand for Carranza&#8217;s
+candidate for the election. His own chances
+are too good. It might be a wise plan for the Government
+to stir up a little revolution on its own hook and
+get in the first hits.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might be. Anything might be down here; that&#8217;s
+why it&#8217;s such an interesting place to live. Still, I don&#8217;t
+altogether like the idea of Pachuca roaming the country
+like a lion escaped from a circus.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Those lions never do much harm,&#8221; observed Scott,
+cheerfully. &#8220;Of course, if he hitches up with
+Villa&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I seem to have heard that he and Villa had a row.
+I should say he was more likely to try to organize a
+crowd of his own and get in on the fireworks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If he does it&#8217;s good-bye to our fellows,&#8221; said Scott.
+&#8220;It would be a case of the Pied Piper and the rats;
+and Johnny&#8217;s a mighty good piper.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p>
+<p>Hard glanced at his companion in some amusement.
+Scott, who was a man of little education, had periodic
+spells of promiscuous reading, and frequently surprised
+his friend with his references.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It wouldn&#8217;t be only our men, either,&#8221; he said, a
+moment later.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was thinking of that,&#8221; replied Scott. &#8220;Old Herrick&#8217;s
+would go, too. I wish you could persuade him
+to go back to England, Hard; that ranch of his is no
+place for an artist.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard nodded. &#8220;I doubt if I could,&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;Herrick&#8217;s obstinate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They had reached the cabin where they were to sleep
+and were hailed drowsily but inquisitively by Adams.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hullo, you guys! Did you find the lady?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We did, and she asked warmly after you,&#8221; replied
+Scott. Then, in a low tone to Hard: &#8220;No use saying
+anything about Pachuca to the boys.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard nodded. &#8220;Better not,&#8221; he agreed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did she? I think you lie,&#8221; replied Adams, sleepily.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t be any noisier than you can help, you two, getting
+to bed. I&#8217;ve lost two hours of my beauty sleep
+now waitin&#8217; up for you and I need my rest.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going over to my place to give the men their
+breakfast,&#8221; said Mrs. Van Zandt, looking into Polly&#8217;s
+bedroom the next morning. &#8220;Just you lay in bed until
+you&#8217;re rested.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m rested now,&#8221; said the girl, sitting up. &#8220;Is
+there&mdash;no, of course there isn&#8217;t a bathtub on the
+place?&#8221; she laughed.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Bathtub? Well, I should say not, but your pitcher&#8217;s
+full, I guess. You&#8217;ll get used to being without
+bathtubs after a while. They ain&#8217;t half as important
+as folks think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind. I&#8217;ve camped,&#8221; said Polly, heroically.
+&#8220;What I really wanted to ask you was how soon you
+thought I could get away?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get away? Why, ain&#8217;t you just come?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but I thought Bob was here. I never would
+have dumped myself down upon a lot of strangers like
+this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If that&#8217;s all that bothers you, turn over and get
+another nap. If the Superintendent&#8217;s own sister ain&#8217;t
+got a right to a few weeks&#8217; board and lodging, I don&#8217;t
+know who has. As for the boys, don&#8217;t worry about
+them. I&#8217;m an honest-to-goodness widow and I guess
+I can chaperon you all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly laughed again. Mrs. Van Zandt&#8217;s eye took in
+her appearance thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you sleep in those things all the time?&#8221; she
+said. &#8220;I mean, are they all you brought?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly glanced at her diaphanous pajamas and nodded
+cheerfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ll see that you have an extra blanket.
+Nights are cold here,&#8221; and Mrs. Van hurried away.
+Polly called after her. &#8220;Well?&#8221; she said, reappearing
+in the doorway.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is this Bob&#8217;s room, Mrs. Van Zandt?&#8221; the girl
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, it&#8217;s Mr. Hard&#8217;s, but you needn&#8217;t worry about
+him. He&#8217;ll be quite comfortable at the other house.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I was wondering&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Polly blushed. One hates
+to be curious, and yet&mdash;&#8220;I was wondering who that
+was?&#8221; pointing to a photograph on the dresser.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Her name&#8217;s Conrad&mdash;she&#8217;s a widow woman from
+Boston, an old friend of his. Pretty, ain&#8217;t she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He never told me anything about her,&#8221; admitted
+Mrs. Van, candidly. &#8220;Mr. Hard ain&#8217;t one to chatter
+about his private affairs, but I got it out of Marc
+Scott.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He said she was a singer; married an Englishman
+and lived down near Mexico City. Husband died two
+or three years ago. I&#8217;ve a notion she&#8217;s an old sweetheart
+of Henry Hard&#8217;s&mdash;you can tell from her clothes
+it&#8217;s an old picture.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I like her looks,&#8221; commented Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So do I. Give me a wide-awake looking woman
+every time,&#8221; agreed Mrs. Van Zandt. &#8220;There, I must
+hustle or Dolores will put red pepper in the eggs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly stared at the photograph. It was of a tall,
+slender woman, with large dark eyes, and obviously of
+a personality distinctly pleasing. She had, even in the
+photograph, an air of vitality which accounted for Mrs.
+Van&#8217;s comment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And he looks like the sort of man who would stay
+single for a woman,&#8221; she said, pensively. Then her
+thoughts returned to her own position. Her eyes filled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, why did I come? Why did I?&#8221; she asked
+herself for the fiftieth time. &#8220;Because I was a coward
+and didn&#8217;t want to hear what people were going to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span>
+say about me. As though it mattered what the kind of
+people I know think of anybody! And now I&#8217;ve marooned
+myself in this dreadful place and I&#8217;ll have to
+stay till Bob comes&mdash;we can&#8217;t go chasing each other
+across the country like this. And that miserable Scott
+man knows why I came! Well, I can snub him, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly planted both feet firmly on the floor and
+reached for her stockings. A few minutes later she
+stood in the doorway, a dark sweater drawn over her
+lacy waist, her plaid skirt blowing in the breeze, and
+her vivid hair covered only with a net. The air was
+cool and bracing, the sun just beginning to be a bit
+warm, the mountains emerging from behind fleecy
+clouds, and the sky as blue as that of Italy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not bad, eh?&#8221; Hard stopped beside her, thinking
+how her splendid youth and vibrant coloring harmonized
+with the surroundings.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not bad at all,&#8221; laughed the girl. &#8220;You only need
+a few wild looking Mexicans prowling about to give a
+touch of life.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard pointed toward the mine. Some dark-skinned
+men wearing big straw sombreros were running a hand
+car up the track while another group lounged in a
+doorway.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are your Mexicans, but I&#8217;m afraid they&#8217;re
+too lazy to be very wild. Nothing but a revolution excites
+them these days and sometimes I think they&#8217;re
+getting a bit blasé over them. Now and then they
+wake up over a cock-fight.&#8221; They walked down the
+street toward the boarding-house.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish, Mr. Hard, that you would tell me something
+about the young man who drove me over last
+night,&#8221; the girl said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who? Scotty?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; a little indignantly. &#8220;I mean Señor Pachuca.
+Oh, I forgot that I hadn&#8217;t told you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Scott told me. He and I thought, if you don&#8217;t
+mind, that we wouldn&#8217;t say anything about it before
+the others. I mean about his being in the neighborhood.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t if you don&#8217;t want me to,&#8221; replied Polly,
+with unusual docility. &#8220;But please tell me about him.
+Mr. Scott didn&#8217;t seem to want to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, no, Scotty didn&#8217;t want to frighten you, I
+suppose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Frighten me? As if I was that kind of girl!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s just a little difficult these days to know what
+one may or may not tell a young lady,&#8221; smiled Hard.
+&#8220;But about Johnny Pachuca. A good many people
+call him &#8216;Don Juan&#8217;&mdash;I don&#8217;t know whether it&#8217;s because
+he claims to be of pure Spanish blood, or whether
+it&#8217;s a subtle recognition of his popularity with the
+ladies.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A few years ago, he was a captain or a colonel or
+something equally fancy in the army. He&#8217;s a dashing
+young scamp, and he had the good luck or the bad luck
+whatever you want to call it to engage the affections
+of a good-looking young actress who was supposed to
+be bestowing those affections on a man higher up.
+Naturally, the man higher up looked about for a way
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span>
+of getting even. He dug up a scandal about some
+army funds. Young Pachuca had been doing what
+seems to have been the usual thing down in Mexico
+City&mdash;padding his accounts&mdash;so they got him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not that they couldn&#8217;t have got anybody on the
+staff on the same charge; but they were after Juan.
+Juan had to choose between retiring to private life or
+turning bandit. Having a taste for action, he did the
+latter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean like Villa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, no, Villa&#8217;s in a class by himself. You can&#8217;t
+call a man who has controlled a state and who has
+dictated to presidents, a bandit, can you? He&#8217;s on too
+big a scale. Pachuca took up banditry, in a gentlemanly
+sort of way; at least they say he did; nobody&#8217;s
+proved it on him. He was undoubtedly with Villa at
+one time. He was with him when he stopped here and
+nabbed our horses. I was away at the time. I&#8217;ve
+never seen the fellow. Then, gossip says, they quarreled
+and Pachuca went back to his people in the
+South. I haven&#8217;t a doubt, however, that if another
+revolution should break out, Johnny would climb into
+the band-wagon against the government and land in
+the army again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And that&#8217;s the man I undertook to drive alone in
+the dark with!&#8221; gasped the girl. &#8220;Mr. Hard, promise
+me you&#8217;ll never tell Bob?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I promise,&#8221; replied Hard, laughing. &#8220;And here
+we are at breakfast. Miss Street, this is Mr. Williams,
+who runs our store, Mr. Adams, of the office
+force&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; and so on until each had very consciously
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span>
+greeted the newcomer. Scott, who sat at the end of
+the table, looked up and bowed, receiving a cool little
+response. He returned unconcerned to his ham and
+eggs. If the new arrival was going to be disagreeable,
+he would keep out of her way.</p>
+<p>Breakfast went off pleasantly. The food was excellent
+and with the exception of Scott, who kept his distance,
+everyone was quite evidently trying to put the
+girl at her ease. From the train crew, who announced
+their intention of running over to Conejo for her trunk,
+to Adams who spoke for the privilege of taking her
+over the plant, and Williams, who begged for an early
+opportunity to show his collection of baskets and pottery,
+each had something to offer. Even the black-eyed
+Dolores peeped admiringly through the hole in the
+wall, gathering items about the visitor to retail to the
+eager ears of relatives and friends at the next <i>baile</i>.</p>
+<p>After breakfast, Adams piloted Polly over the
+premises, from the corral to the office. He showed her
+the automobile lying idle because an important part
+was broken and the new one though ordered from the
+factory had not come.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope you ride?&#8221; he said, and as she nodded:
+&#8220;that&#8217;s good. Maybe we can get up a party to ride
+across the mesa to Casa Grande. That&#8217;s Herrick&#8217;s
+place.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Herrick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Queer chap&mdash;part German and part English.
+Artistic, you know&mdash;plays the piano and sings.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s he doing here if he&#8217;s an artist?&#8221; demanded
+Polly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Runs a ranch and writes music. His wife died
+suddenly&mdash;she used to travel around with him and sing
+his songs&mdash;they made a pile of money, I guess.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean Victor Herrick!&#8221; gasped the girl.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that&#8217;s him. He went to pieces when she died
+and packed up his piano and his music and came down
+here and buried himself on the ranch. Queer customer,
+but you&#8217;ll like him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And to think that Bob Street never wrote me that
+Victor Herrick was a neighbor of his&mdash;and then wrote
+pages of stuff about those old Morgans!&#8221; said Polly,
+indignantly. &#8220;Why, I&#8217;ve heard the Herricks sing&mdash;they
+were wonderful! Men haven&#8217;t any sense.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, he likes the Morgans. She&#8217;s a jolly kind
+of woman, invites a fellow to dinner and feeds him
+up, you know,&#8221; said Jimmy, seriously. &#8220;They&#8217;re real
+folks, the Morgans are, and Herrick&#8217;s a sort of a nut,
+don&#8217;t you see?&#8221; He threw open the door of the office
+abruptly. &#8220;Here&#8217;s the office, where the manager
+sits with his feet on the desk while the rest of us
+work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott, who was standing by the window, turned suddenly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hullo, Jimmy,&#8221; he said, with a grin. &#8220;Do you
+know whether Johnson&#8217;s gone yet? Well, go over and
+tell him to drop in at Mrs. Morgan&#8217;s and tell her that
+the young lady got here safely; I can&#8217;t get Conejo on
+the wire.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, Mr. Adams, please do!&#8221; said the girl,
+eagerly. &#8220;She meant to be awfully kind but she was
+worried to death about those children. I was too tired
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span>
+to have any patience and I felt as if I just had to get
+away from Conejo.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not the first person who&#8217;s been struck that
+way,&#8221; grinned Adams, as he left the office.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hard tells me he has been talking to you about
+Juan Pachuca,&#8221; said Scott, smiling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you wouldn&#8217;t, so I had to ask somebody
+else,&#8221; replied Polly. &#8220;I&#8217;m interested in him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So I noticed. Can&#8217;t you pick out something a little
+more like home-folks to be interested in? Remember
+the fellow who tried to bring up the tiger
+cub?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What happened to him?&#8221; Polly smiled up into
+Scott&#8217;s face. There was something about Scotty that
+appealed to you even when you were actively engaged
+in disliking him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It grew up and bit him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, and Juan Pachuca seemed so nice and friendly.
+But I suppose a tiger cub feels soft and furry when
+it isn&#8217;t scratching or biting.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. You can&#8217;t tell about these fellows down
+here. Maybe Pachuca would have brought you over
+here safe and sound, and maybe he would have taken
+the south fork of the road down yonder and carried
+you off to his ranch to hold for a ransom.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; said Polly, faintly, &#8220;what a dreadful country!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s no place for tenderfeet. That&#8217;s what
+I&#8217;m always telling our neighbor&mdash;Herrick, over at Casa
+Grande. Bob ever write you about him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bob never writes me about anything&mdash;except
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span>
+Emma,&#8221; said the girl. &#8220;But Mr. Adams has been telling
+me about him. Does he live there all alone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, he&#8217;s got a Chinese boy to cook for him and a
+lot of greasers working on the place, but no white men
+around.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish I could meet him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can. I&#8217;ll drive you over there any time you
+say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly&#8217;s face hardened. &#8220;I won&#8217;t bother you,&#8221; she
+said. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know how long I&#8217;ll stay here. I want
+to telegraph Bob.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I told Johnson to wire him from Conejo,&#8221; said
+Scott, a bit coolly on his side. &#8220;He may bring the
+return message back with him to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly felt suddenly ashamed of herself. She rose
+and held out her hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was awfully thoughtful of you, Mr. Scott,&#8221;
+she said. &#8220;I&#8217;m ever and ever so much obliged to you,
+both for that and for last night. I suppose if it hadn&#8217;t
+been for you Señor Pachuca might have been sending
+pieces of my fingers to Bob for a ransom.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott laughed but he took the hand awkwardly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think Pachuca would do anything quite as
+raw as that&mdash;especially with a lady,&#8221; he said. &#8220;But
+I&#8217;m glad I went just the same. I don&#8217;t take chances
+with these chaps. Shall we walk down to dinner?
+Mrs. Van gets pretty peeved if we&#8217;re late to meals.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VI_LOCAL_ACTIVITIES' id='VI_LOCAL_ACTIVITIES'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>LOCAL ACTIVITIES</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Johnson did not bring a return message from Chicago.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Family ain&#8217;t got its breath yet, I reckon,&#8221; he said,
+as he and Scott discussed the matter. &#8220;She looks to
+me like the sort of youngster who could keep a family
+pretty well stirred up,&#8221; he added, candidly. &#8220;Girls
+have changed sence you and me was young, Scotty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve said it,&#8221; was the terse reply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you can believe what these magazine fellers
+write,&#8221; went on the engineer, pensively, &#8220;the girl of to-day
+is a sort of mixture of bronc, ostrich, and rattlesnake
+thrown in. Smokes, drinks&mdash;say, Scotty, I wonder
+do they chew?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Search me,&#8221; responded Scott. &#8220;I don&#8217;t go into
+society much these days. I reckon, though, you&#8217;ve got
+to take these writing chaps with a grain of salt.
+There&#8217;s probably a few plain, ordinary girls left.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s plenty of plain ones, if the newspapers
+ain&#8217;t lyin&#8217;,&#8221; said Johnson, opening his home paper at
+the society page and revealing three emaciated damsels,
+clad in extremely short skirts, and with huge bird
+cages over their ears. &#8220;Not that Miss Polly&#8217;s like
+them,&#8221; he added, generously. &#8220;She&#8217;s a looker and a
+lady, too. I like her.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s lucky, Tom,&#8221; remarked Scott. &#8220;I&#8217;ll tell
+her she can stay on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly did stay on. The next day a telegram came
+from the happy bridegroom.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For Heaven&#8217;s sake stay where you are. Stop racing
+around the country. Returning shortly. Bob.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the meantime, the days passed like hours. Polly
+rode with Scott, walked with Adams, chatted with
+Hard, and helped Mrs. Van Zandt with the housework
+when the latter would let her, which wasn&#8217;t often.
+Now and then she remembered Joyce Henderson, and
+when she did, her manner would cool toward Scott;
+but one couldn&#8217;t go on holding a grudge long in that
+climate. The glorious sun, coming after months of
+dark chilly weather, seemed to melt anything in one&#8217;s
+heart that was unfriendly. Joyce Henderson soon
+faded into half-tones.</p>
+<p>There were a dozen interesting things to do everyday.
+A Mexican saddle with its high pommel and
+cantle, was fascinating after an English one. Foothills
+and arroyos were a charming part of one&#8217;s walk
+after the boulevards and parks of Chicago. She
+hugely enjoyed chatting in sign language with the
+Mexicans and Indians on the place, and before a week
+had passed she had picked up a number of Spanish
+phrases which she used with delighted inaccuracy.</p>
+<p>She believed that of the men she liked Hard the best.
+He was the type of man she had always admired; the
+best type of an American gentleman, a man of good old
+family traditions, quiet and unassuming and yet full of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span>
+a pleasant humor. She wondered what had brought
+him to Mexico&mdash;an unhappy love affair with the lady
+who sang? But Hard was not a man of whom one
+asked personal questions so she did not find out.</p>
+<p>Scott, however, was the man who really interested
+Polly Street though she did not realize it. Much of
+that interest was due to the fact that he apparently did
+not care whether he interested her or not. One moment
+they would be on excellent terms, and the next
+he would have forgotten her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That young man,&#8221; said Polly, sagely, &#8220;understands
+the art of making himself popular. He knows
+it irritates a woman to see a man absolutely indifferent
+to her. It&#8217;s more than flesh and blood can stand. So
+he acts that way, for it&#8217;s a pose, of course. Just for
+that I&#8217;m going to make him like me&mdash;if I can spare
+the time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In this she wronged Marc Scott, who was quite
+innocent of the art of posing, and whose mind was on
+other things these days than young women.</p>
+<p>One day, about a fortnight after Polly&#8217;s arrival, she
+and Scott rode over to a little village hidden in the
+mountains some ten miles away. It was a warm day
+and they were long on the road. It was nearing sundown
+when they came within sight of Athens. Polly,
+as usual, was talking:</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re such queer people&mdash;Mexicans. They
+can&#8217;t run their own country and they don&#8217;t want anybody
+else to come in and run it for them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t call that queer,&#8221; replied Scott.
+&#8220;Chances are that if they let someone else in, there
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span>
+wouldn&#8217;t be enough country left for them to put in their
+eye, and they darn well know it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not necessarily,&#8221; replied the girl, sturdily. &#8220;We
+didn&#8217;t gobble up Cuba. We just helped them to get
+on their feet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cuba&#8217;s a different proposition. Cuba was being
+coerced by an European power and, of course, we had
+to stop it. Mexico is in the hands of her own people
+and if you give them time they may make something of
+her. Then, there&#8217;s the oil question. That&#8217;s sort of
+soured the native population on us. You&#8217;d never persuade
+a live Mexican that the U. S. came over here for
+anything in the world but to grab the oil lands&mdash;whether
+the U. S. was innocent or not.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose not, and a good many of us wouldn&#8217;t be
+innocent, would we?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Afraid not. You see, the oil business has developed
+to an importance far beyond everything else
+down here. When this man, Carranza, went into
+office, he went in under what they call the Constitution
+of 1917. It provides that the State is entitled to
+retain what they call &#8216;subsoil rights.&#8217; That is, they
+don&#8217;t want to sell oil lands or mines outright, they
+just lease them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, if they should decide, and a lot of them want
+to, that that Constitution is retroactive&mdash;and undermines
+the titles of land that&#8217;s already owned by foreign
+capital, there&#8217;d be a lot of influence brought to bear to
+make trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That would affect our mine, wouldn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but mines are pretty small potatoes compared
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span>
+to oil. People down here will tell you that the Constitution
+is merely a matter of form and that if the oil
+men will go on paying their taxes nothing will happen;
+but, of course, that sort of assurance doesn&#8217;t go far
+when a man&#8217;s putting up his money. If they get a new
+government down here, and we get a new one at home,
+the chances are that the United States will demand
+guarantees of some kind. It&#8217;s a bad question, take it
+any way you like.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Mexican says: &#8216;These oil lands are mine.&#8217;
+And they are. The American says: &#8216;What good were
+they to anybody when you had them?&#8217; None whatever,
+and the world needs oil, so there you are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They rode on for a few minutes in silence. Scott
+watched, with the mixed pleasure of the horseman and
+the admiring male, the girl&#8217;s graceful figure adapt itself
+to the jog of the horse. He reflected that there
+was something very clean-cut and alive about her,
+from the way her hair sprang in its tight little waves
+away from her firm white neck, to the quick flash of
+her dark eyes; there was a vividness and a health
+about her which appealed strongly to the out-of-doors
+man.</p>
+<p>Nothing could have been further from his idea of
+a rich man&#8217;s daughter; a pampered being, all nerves
+and affectations, helpless and parasitic. Of course she
+was spoiled&mdash;used to being waited upon a good deal,
+and with rather a good opinion of herself. One could
+see that. On the other hand, it did not seem to go
+very deep; seemed, rather, the sort of thing that might
+rub off when it came in contact with life. Even the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span>
+rich sometimes came into contact with life, he reflected,
+with a feeling of satisfaction. They dodged
+a good many rough knocks that the poor couldn&#8217;t
+dodge, but something usually came along to even up
+the score, if nothing else&mdash;the old boy with the scythe.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Scott, when are you going to take me over to
+see Casa Grande?&#8221; said the object of his meditations,
+suddenly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; Scott turned on her in well simulated surprise.
+&#8220;Thought you didn&#8217;t want to go last time we
+talked about it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; Polly blushed, &#8220;I&#8217;ve changed my mind. I
+want to meet the celebrity.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who? Victor Herrick? I don&#8217;t think you&#8217;ll care
+much for him if you go over there looking for a celebrity.
+He&#8217;s not that kind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t understand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s not the kind that likes to go to pink teas and
+have a lot of women hanging around him,&#8221; explained
+Scott, promptly. &#8220;Not a society woman&#8217;s pet. Too
+good a musician, I guess.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t like society people very much, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not much,&#8221; candidly. &#8220;And I guess they wouldn&#8217;t
+care much for me, so that squares it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose the sort of people you mean by &#8216;society&#8217;
+wouldn&#8217;t care for you,&#8221; said the girl, frankly. &#8220;But
+there are people, you know, even among the rich who
+have sense enough to know a worth-while man when
+they meet him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was Scott&#8217;s turn to show confusion. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+mean that there aren&#8217;t any decent rich folks. I&#8217;m not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span>
+such a blamed idiot as that,&#8221; he said. &#8220;You, yourself,
+have a lot more sense than an heiress has any
+right to,&#8221; he added, with a smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me? I&#8217;m not an heiress. Father has a big salary,
+of course, but we spend every cent of it. We don&#8217;t
+mean to but we always do. Somehow, our expenses
+crawl up every time the salary crawls. Of course,
+there&#8217;s insurance, but that would go to Mother. You
+see, they&#8217;ve educated both Bob and me well enough so
+that we can support ourselves; I could be athletic instructor
+in a girls&#8217; college to-morrow if I wanted to;
+and Father&#8217;s invested a good deal in this mine on
+Bob&#8217;s account. He thinks he&#8217;s done his duty by us
+and I do, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So do I,&#8221; said Scott, soberly. &#8220;I don&#8217;t believe in
+these handed-down fortunes&mdash;money tied up for generations.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think,&#8221; said Polly, shyly, &#8220;that you&#8217;re a bit of a
+socialist.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So do I&mdash;only I&#8217;ve never found exactly the brand
+of socialism that I believe in. Maybe they haven&#8217;t
+discovered it yet. But I do believe that we&#8217;ve got to
+do better by each other than we&#8217;re doing now if we&#8217;re
+ever going to make a success of living. Whether it&#8217;s
+got to come by individual reform or by some new
+system of government, I don&#8217;t know, but things have
+got to improve, and, by gum, I believe they will!
+We&#8217;re too good, all of us, to be wasted the way most
+of us are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He spoke with a fire that Polly had never seen in
+him before. She had thought him phlegmatic, but
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span>
+here was something temperamental&mdash;something that
+kindled enthusiasm in her. She was too hampered by
+her own inexperience of life to know what to say to
+him; she felt helpless in the presence of feelings that
+she had never had and could not feel sure that she understood;
+and she feared to say the wrong thing&mdash;she,
+Polly Street, who had always said what she liked to
+men and let them take it as they chose! It was a
+queer feeling and she wondered&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on, what&#8217;s that?&#8221; Scott stopped his horse
+suddenly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s what?&#8221; demanded the girl, startled. Then
+as he did not answer, but continued to stare in the
+direction of Athens, she cried impatiently: &#8220;What
+are you looking at? Tell me now&mdash;this minute!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott took a pair of field-glasses from a case on his
+saddle. He handed them to the girl.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does that look to you like Juan Pachuca&#8217;s car down
+by the store?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly looked. &#8220;It does, doesn&#8217;t it?&#8221; she said.
+&#8220;But it&#8217;s too far to be sure. Who do you suppose
+those men are on horseback?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Scott, shortly, as he took the
+glasses and looked again. &#8220;But I don&#8217;t like the looks
+of it. Let&#8217;s whip up and get to that arroyo that runs
+back of the camp. We&#8217;ll ride the rest of the way in
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They descended into the arroyo which was a deep
+one with sheltering sides that rose above them fully ten
+feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It doesn&#8217;t go all the way,&#8221; objected the girl, who
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span>
+was beginning to know the geography of the place already.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want it to,&#8221; replied Scott. &#8220;It turns off
+and runs at an angle&mdash;just above the dining-room.
+I&#8217;m going to leave you and the horses there out of
+sight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Leave us!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t think I was going to turn tail and run
+when the boys were being held up, did you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly&#8217;s eyes shone with a mixture of fear and excitement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean it&#8217;s a real hold-up?&#8221; she gasped.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t the least idea, but it sure does look like
+one, especially if that&#8217;s Pachuca, himself, on that
+sorrel. Then, again, it may be the Federal Government
+quartering men on us. In either case ladies and
+horse-flesh are better out of the way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;m not afraid,&#8221; cried the girl, her teeth chattering
+with excitement. &#8220;At least, I don&#8217;t think I am&mdash;much.
+Anyhow, I&#8217;ll be lots more scared down here
+in this hole alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You won&#8217;t be alone; you&#8217;ve got two good horses
+to take care of. Thank the Lord, Hard is out of it&mdash;that&#8217;s
+three horses we can save.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard had ridden to Conejo the day before and had
+not returned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to leave you this.&#8221; Scott took his revolver
+from the holster and handed it to the girl, who
+took it reluctantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m more afraid of it than I am of Juan Pachuca,&#8221;
+she pleaded.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve no call to be,&#8221; was the reply. &#8220;Don&#8217;t be
+a baby&mdash;brace up and stay here with these horses.
+They&#8217;re not looking for you and they&#8217;ll never come
+down here. These are the two best horses we&#8217;ve got
+and I&#8217;m cussed if I&#8217;m going to hand &#8217;em over to a
+bunch of greasers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; Polly gasped again. No one had ever
+spoken to her quite like this before. &#8220;You can&#8217;t go
+unarmed, can you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind me. You stay here till I come for
+you. If anybody bothers you, you shoot. Understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott proceeded to climb cautiously out of the arroyo
+and in a moment was out of Polly&#8217;s sight. He looked
+back once and saw the girl standing where he had left
+her, holding the reins of the two horses, her eyes
+big with excitement, watching his every movement.
+He waved his hand, then turned his back upon
+her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a good youngster,&#8221; he said to himself.
+&#8220;Plenty of spunk but knows when to mind. I&#8217;m
+afraid that if I was ten years younger I might make a
+fool of myself&mdash;for she&#8217;d never look at me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The spot at which he had left the sheltering arroyo
+was two or three hundred feet from the cabin in which
+he was living with Hard and Adams. His idea was
+to steal into the house from the rear, arm himself, and
+then see what he could do, though, of course, he realized
+that their small force could do little against Pachuca,
+who not only had some twenty-five or thirty
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span>
+men of his own, but who could easily count on the
+Mexicans who worked on the place.</p>
+<p>As he walked quickly in the direction of the house,
+he noticed Pachuca, for he it was on the sorrel horse,
+giving orders loudly in Spanish to his men who were
+scattered around the place&mdash;many of them down at the
+corral. He did not see any of his own people, which
+puzzled him a little. As he entered his cabin and
+crossed the living-room to go to the bedroom, where
+he kept an extra gun, he nearly stumbled over the
+body of a man.</p>
+<p>It was Adams, lying in the middle of the room, dead&mdash;or
+had the boy only fainted? Scott rummaged in
+the cupboard for the whiskey bottle and poured a bit
+of the liquor down his throat. Jimmy opened his eyes
+and stared dizzily around. Scott saw that the floor
+around him was covered with blood.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, boy? Those hounds shoot you?&#8221; he
+demanded. Adams grinned shakily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve hit it, brainy one,&#8221; he muttered. &#8220;Help me
+into a chair, Scotty, I ain&#8217;t dead, only winged in the
+left hin&#8217; leg.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott lifted him gently and placed him in the chair,
+then went into his room and secured the gun. He
+brought a towel back with him and staunched the flow
+of blood from the leg with a clumsily fashioned bandage.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He busted in on us while we were taking our afternoon
+naps,&#8221; said Jimmy, weakly. &#8220;I happened to be
+taking mine in the office as per usual. I saw Pachuca
+riding up so I grabbed my gun and beat it for the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span>
+door. They had me covered, about ten of them before
+I could show my face. They asked for the cash box
+and when I said we hadn&#8217;t one, one of &#8217;em blazed away
+and hit me in the leg. When I toppled over they made
+a rush for the office&mdash;most of &#8217;em over me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The safe?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought of that and it occurred to me that I&#8217;d
+better clear out before it struck them that I might
+know the combination. So while they were enjoying
+themselves inside, I crawled down here. I hadn&#8217;t gone
+half-way before I heard &#8217;em blow it up. Oh, yes, they
+got the pay chest all right, all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what then?&#8221; grunted Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Part of the crowd had gone down to the corral
+and the rest were down at the store. Just as I crawled
+in here, I saw Williams come out of the store and get
+it in the gun arm&mdash;the train gang were caught without
+their guns, and they&#8217;ve got &#8217;em all lined up outside the
+store. They&#8217;ve looted the store and the corral and
+they&#8217;ve got all our greasers stirred up to join &#8217;em.
+Say, there&#8217;s no use your mixing in&mdash;you can&#8217;t do anything.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can spoil Don Juan&#8217;s pretty looks, I guess!&#8221;
+snarled Scott. &#8220;That&#8217;ll be something.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on&mdash;give me some more of that whiskey before
+you go. Thanks. Now go and get your fool
+head shot off if you want to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With a growl of rage, Scott flung out of the house.
+He strode in the direction of the store where the prisoners
+still stood helplessly. They had seen firearms,
+dry-goods, canned food, and Williams&#8217; cash box carried
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span>
+out and deposited in the automobile which stood
+at the side of the store. Now they awaited the next
+move. Pachuca was evidently gathering his forces for
+departure. The Athens Mexicans had collected their
+families, their household goods, and whatever else they
+could lay their hands on and were ready to follow.</p>
+<p>These preparations for a general exodus were the
+first things to strike Scott as he came out of the cabin.
+It was exasperating, but what could you expect?
+There was no knowing what rosy tale Pachuca had
+told them; more than likely that the American army
+had crossed the border and that they were striking for
+their altars and their fires. He saw women, babies,
+and household goods loaded upon his good horse-flesh
+and disappearing down the road.</p>
+<p>Scott&#8217;s blood boiled. His impulse was to shoot Juan
+Pachuca without warning. He raised his arm and
+then he paused. One does not shoot men in the back
+easily unless one is used to doing it. At that moment
+a Mexican saw him and yelled. Instantly everyone
+saw him. Pachuca whirled his horse about. It reared
+and plunged. Its rider laughed loudly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, there you are, friend Scott!&#8221; he called. &#8220;I
+told you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He brought his gun from his hip with
+a sudden twist. The two men fired simultaneously.
+Scott thought&mdash;hoped&mdash;that he saw Pachuca waver,
+but the air was full of smoke and he was dazed. He
+fired again.</p>
+<p>Pachuca&#8217;s horse began to pitch violently; it took all
+its rider&#8217;s famous horsemanship to keep in the saddle.
+At the same moment, two men stole up behind Scott,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span>
+who was rushing forward, seized him, threw him to
+the ground, and disarmed him. One of them took his
+rope and bound the American, while both of them
+grinned and muttered in Spanish.</p>
+<p>By this time, Pachuca had defeated the evident intentions
+of the sorrel to buck himself through the
+store window, and uttering a cry dashed off in the
+direction of the automobile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Adios, Señor Scott!&#8221; he cried, as he went.
+&#8220;Next time you will take a neighbor&#8217;s good word, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Next time I&#8217;ll take a soft-nosed bullet and get you
+back of the ear, you rotten little half-breed!&#8221; yelled
+Scott, maddened with helplessness and rage, rolling in
+the dust.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Marc Scott, ain&#8217;t you got any sense? Keep your
+mouth shut!&#8221; screamed Mrs. Van Zandt in terror as
+they gathered around the prostrate man and untied him
+while the last of the raiders rode off.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did they get everything?&#8221; he demanded as he got
+to his feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All except honor and they didn&#8217;t leave enough of
+that to stick in your eye,&#8221; responded Mrs. Van, bitterly.
+&#8220;They got Adams in the leg and Williams in
+the arm and took off the whole greaser population.
+Here, wipe your face off with this handkerchief before
+you rub all that sand in your eyes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott obeyed meekly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s the girl?&#8221; demanded Williams.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Down the arroyo with the horses,&#8221; replied Scott.
+&#8220;We saw the outfit in time or Pachuca&#8217;d have had her,
+too.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;He asked me where she was and I told him she&#8217;d
+gone home,&#8221; said Mrs. Van. &#8220;I was awful scared
+Dolores would give me away but I reckon she didn&#8217;t
+hear.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They stared malevolently at the vanishing auto.
+Pachuca had turned the sorrel over to another man
+and was driving the car himself. Suddenly, they saw
+him stop and give an order. Several of the men dismounted
+and were laying something along the track.
+Then with a yell, they all bolted, the auto in the lead,
+the horsemen following. A few seconds and they had
+disappeared around a curve in the road.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, what the &mdash;&mdash;&#8221; began Williams, when
+he was answered&mdash;there was a crash, the sight of
+rocks and sand flying, and a thunderous reverberation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The mutts have blown up the track!&#8221; burst from
+the engineer, furiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They would,&#8221; replied Scott, sourly. &#8220;Want to
+cut us off from Conejo till they&#8217;ve made their getaway!
+Probably cut the wires, too. Go and see, Miller. If
+they haven&#8217;t, get Morgan and tell him Pachuca&#8217;s on the
+rampage. Did he say what was up? What he was
+doing this for?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not him,&#8221; said O&#8217;Grady, disgustedly. &#8220;Bring out
+your dead&mdash;that&#8217;s Johnny Pachuca&mdash;no flourishes
+about him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You come in here with me and look at Joe Williams&#8217;
+arm,&#8221; commanded Mrs. Van. &#8220;It don&#8217;t look to
+me as if it was broke, do you think so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll see to Adams,&#8221; said Scott. &#8220;Johnson, you go
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span>
+down to the arroyo and get the girl.&#8221; And he went
+down the street to the cabin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, did he get everything?&#8221; demanded Adams,
+as Scott entered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All he could carry. He left the victrola for you,
+Jimmy, and the stove for Mrs. Van.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gosh! What did you do with Miss Polly?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Left her with the horses in the arroyo.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was smart of you, Scotty. I&#8217;ll bet she wanted
+to come?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet she did, but she didn&#8217;t get to come. Let&#8217;s
+have another look at the leg, Jimmy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They bathed it as well as they could. It had stopped
+bleeding and they bandaged it carefully with another
+towel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe the bone&#8217;s broke, Jimmy, but I don&#8217;t
+like the looks of it,&#8221; said the amateur surgeon. &#8220;You
+need a doctor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There ain&#8217;t any except that greaser over at
+Conejo,&#8221; said Adams, gloomily. &#8220;Morgan says he&#8217;s
+so dirty he won&#8217;t let him touch his kids. I don&#8217;t want
+blood poisoning, you bet. Did they blow up the
+track?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott nodded. &#8220;There&#8217;s Johnson,&#8221; he exclaimed,
+looking out of the window. &#8220;He&#8217;s got the horses but
+not the girl. Hey, there, Tom, where&#8217;s Miss Polly?&#8221;
+he cried as the engineer dismounted and came into the
+house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She wasn&#8217;t there, Scotty. I found the horses tied
+to a branch of a tree that grew out of the side of the
+arroyo but there wasn&#8217;t no sign of the girl anywhere.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p>
+<p>Scott&#8217;s face darkened. &#8220;She was scared and went
+further up,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Did you look?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looked and hollered and then some, but she was
+clean gone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott muttered something, flung out of the house and
+threw himself on his horse. In a moment he was tearing
+up the road.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s that ugly devil going?&#8221; said Johnson, disgustedly.
+&#8220;Didn&#8217;t I tell him she&#8217;d gone? Is he going
+to try to chase Johnny Pachuca into the mountains
+after her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gone clean nuts!&#8221; remarked Adams, gloomily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew that when I seen him rolling in the dirt
+and yelling &#8216;half-breed,&#8217;&#8221; replied Johnson. &#8220;You
+might as well poison a Mexican as to call him &#8216;half-breed.&#8217;
+According to them they&#8217;re all second cousins
+to the King of Spain. Does your leg hurt much,
+Jimmy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ve had legs that felt better,&#8221; said Adams,
+cheerfully. &#8220;Where you going, Tom?&#8221; as the long,
+lank engineer swung out of the room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To see the boss get his throat cut,&#8221; was the reply.
+&#8220;Pachuca&#8217;s got the money, the guns and the girl; it
+don&#8217;t seem very good sense to hand him the whole office
+force but if the boss says so, here goes.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VII_MISS_CHICAGO' id='VII_MISS_CHICAGO'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>MISS CHICAGO</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Polly stood where Scott left her, gazing after him
+with a mixture of horror and excitement; horror at the
+thought that one of the terrible raids of which she had
+so often heard was taking place scarce two hundred
+yards from where she stood, and excitement because
+she was there&mdash;she, Polly Street, who had so far in
+her life never met with any adventure more thrilling
+than a punctured tire or a lost golf match.</p>
+<p>Then, suddenly, it dawned upon her that Scott had
+left her his only weapon; had gone empty-handed into
+the trouble! The thought carried a double meaning.
+He had told her that she was safe, but he had left her
+his gun. Then there was danger&mdash;the Mexicans might
+come and find her; secondly, he had gone unarmed for
+her sake. He, the indifferent, the uncaring, the man
+who didn&#8217;t mind whether she smiled on him or snubbed
+him! Was it only because she was a girl and he a
+man, or did he, after all, care a little bit?</p>
+<p>She had threatened, boastingly, to make him care,
+but she realized that she was beginning to care a little
+herself; that she could not stay quietly in the arroyo
+without knowing what was happening to him; that she
+must see and hear no matter what the risk.</p>
+<p>She looked about her in some perplexity. She had
+been told that a western horse would stand contentedly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span>
+if his reins were thrown over his head; but she doubted
+the universal truth of this statement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They might if there was grass for them to nibble,&#8221;
+she decided. &#8220;But they never would in this hole.
+Come on, ponies, let&#8217;s see what we can do.&#8221; And
+gathering up the reins she led the horses in the direction
+Scott had gone. She saw the place where he had
+scrambled out of the arroyo, and, oh, good luck, a
+clump of mesquite growing out of the crumbling wall
+further down. She fastened the bridle reins to the
+mesquite and left the horses contentedly chewing at it.</p>
+<p>Very cautiously she crept up the incline and took a
+peek at the situation. She was just in time to see
+Scott disappear into the cabin where Adams lay
+wounded. Polly&#8217;s face fell. That didn&#8217;t look very
+heroic&mdash;crawling in by the back door! No wonder he
+didn&#8217;t want her to see him. Then she took another
+look. She saw the crowd down by the corral, catching
+and saddling unwilling horses. Women were
+hurrying in and out of cabins, dragging household
+goods and children with them.</p>
+<p>The little crowd before the store she could not see
+as the building itself prevented, but she saw Pachuca
+with several of his men riding up and down, and she
+also saw several unmounted Mexicans who had been
+looting the store, carry the goods out and throw them
+in the car which stood at the side of the building. Instinctively
+the girl reconstructed the action of the bandits.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A lot of them came on horseback and the rest in
+the car. They&#8217;re going to carry what they&#8217;ve taken in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span>
+the car and they&#8217;re taking the horses for the extra
+men. Our Mexicans and their women are going with
+them and are helping themselves to whatever they
+want. But where are our men? I didn&#8217;t think they&#8217;d
+sit down and be plundered without putting up some
+kind of a fight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She saw the crowd which had been looting the store
+start for the corral. The car stood alone. Without
+doubt they had stopped it a little way from the street
+and made a dash on horseback. Polly&#8217;s eyes shone.</p>
+<p>She glanced at the sun; it was going down rapidly.
+It would soon be dusk. She crept cautiously out of
+the arroyo. If only none of the men on horseback saw
+her she might manage it, wild as her plan was. She
+shook with fear but she did not falter; a girl does not
+have an obstinate chin for nothing. She glanced both
+ways; Pachuca was still riding up and down, issuing
+orders which were obeyed noisily but cheerfully. She
+saw him point toward the corral and saw the men who
+had been loading the car with plunder start toward the
+corral on a run.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Going after more horses,&#8221; thought the girl, stopping
+and crouching back of one of the cabins. If they
+should see her&mdash;she held her breath. The next moment
+she was running for the car, still sheltered by
+the cabins. It was this moment that Scott chose to
+walk down the street and draw the attention of the
+raiders. Polly saw him and her heart warmed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew he wasn&#8217;t a coward!&#8221; she almost sobbed.
+&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m glad&mdash;but he needn&#8217;t be such an idiot as
+that. He&#8217;ll be shot as sure as I&#8217;m here.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></p>
+<p>Panic stricken, she increased her pace and in a minute
+had reached the shelter of the car. Then the shots
+burst upon her ears. She turned white and clung to
+the door of the car. If they had killed him! She saw
+Scott&#8217;s face as he had left her&mdash;friendly, ugly, determined&mdash;and
+she knew that if they had killed him
+nothing else would matter&mdash;anything might happen
+and she would not care. Mechanically, she opened the
+door of the car and hastily moved some of the plunder
+from the floor to the seat. The Mexicans had tossed
+in canned goods, blankets, rifles, a couple of cash
+boxes and even a box of victrola records. Then she
+crawled into the space she had made and seizing one of
+the blankets, drew it over herself and over a part of
+the loot, giving the tonneau of the car the appearance
+of being full of plunder which was protected from the
+dust by a blanket.</p>
+<p>There was a clatter of hoofs and Polly heard Scott&#8217;s
+parting yell. It brought a glorious relief to her mind
+for surely no one who was badly hurt could be as mad
+as that! She heard the answering yells of the Mexicans,
+then she felt and heard the door of the car flung
+open; someone had jumped in and was starting the
+engine. Something struck her&mdash;a man had thrown his
+bundle into the car that he might take a howling
+youngster on his saddle. Polly&#8217;s teeth chattered with
+fear; she was realizing with every throb of the engine
+the awful risk she was taking.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the car moved. Polly cowered in her uncomfortable
+position. Cold with terror she clutched
+the revolver Scott had given her. Suppose at the last
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span>
+minute some of the other men should decide to get into
+the car?</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I won&#8217;t suppose! There wouldn&#8217;t have been
+any time to suppose if I&#8217;d gone to war to drive an
+ambulance. The boys didn&#8217;t suppose when they went
+over the top&mdash;they just went! I hope to goodness
+none of these guns I&#8217;m sitting on are loaded.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The car bumped along on the rutty road and the
+noise of the riders died away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew it,&#8221; the girl said triumphantly. &#8220;I knew
+the horseback people would take to the trail as soon
+as they could, and the automobile can&#8217;t, of course.
+I&#8217;ve scored one point&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The car stopped. Polly&#8217;s breathing apparatus
+stopped simultaneously. What was it? Had he seen
+her? Or was he about to pull the loot to pieces and
+discover her? She listened with her whole body, but
+heard nothing from the driver. Instead, came the
+detonation of the dynamited tracks. The ground beneath
+the car trembled. Then she heard the man
+laugh as he started the car again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve blown up something! That sounds like
+Don Juan&#8217;s voice, too. If I could only see!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The car soon moved at its former speed. On and
+on it went. Sometimes the road would be smooth, the
+driver having found wagon ruts and stayed in them.
+Again, it would be full of bumps and jars. It was
+very uncomfortable, her position being wretchedly
+cramped. Once she was startled to hear the driver
+break into song. It sounded like a Spanish love song
+and his voice was a lyric tenor and very musical. It
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span>
+was Pachuca! She determined to know what was going
+on.</p>
+<p>Pushing aside a corner of the blanket she saw that
+it was beginning to grow dusky. Cautiously she raised
+herself until she could see. Pachuca was bent over
+the wheel. Looking back she saw the road empty of
+riders.</p>
+<p>She looked ahead again. They were in the foothills
+already. Polly drew a long breath, then leaning
+over the back of the seat said desperately:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor Pachuca, would you mind turning round a
+moment?&#8221;</p>
+<p>If she had exploded the revolver in his ear, Pachuca
+could not have given a greater start.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Madre di Dios!</i>&#8221; he gasped, as the machine
+swerved.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please, do mind the wheel&mdash;that was an awful
+curve!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where did you come from?&#8221; demanded the young
+man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have been hidden among the stolen goods,&#8221; replied
+Polly. &#8220;I&#8217;ve heard a lot about you lately, señor,
+but I honestly didn&#8217;t believe you were a thief until I
+saw with my own eyes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca stopped the machine and turning glared at
+the girl, also at the weapon which she pointed with a
+very unsteady hand in his direction.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ll put that thing down I&#8217;ll try to explain to
+you the difference between stealing and requisitioning
+property in war times,&#8221; he said, angrily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ll turn the car around you can explain all
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span>
+the way back to Athens,&#8221; said Polly, sharply. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+awfully tired and stiff and my hand is shaky&mdash;the man
+who gave me this gun told me it was ready to go off.
+I don&#8217;t want it to go off but if it does I can&#8217;t help it.
+Will you please turn around?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I won&#8217;t. The road is too narrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve turned a Red Cross ambulance around in a
+lane no wider than this out near Fort Sheridan and I
+didn&#8217;t spill anybody either. You&#8217;re a better driver
+than I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca shrugged his shoulders but he turned the
+car. There was an ugly look in his eyes and Polly
+clutched her weapon tightly. She tried to keep her
+voice steady but it quavered desperately.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you try to do anything mean&mdash;upset the car or
+anything like that, I&#8217;m going to fire&mdash;I certainly will&mdash;as
+sure as I&#8217;m red-headed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The car sped on. Suddenly Pachuca&#8217;s shoulders began
+to shake. He turned a laughing face toward
+Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are so pretty and so disagreeable,&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;Are all Chicago ladies like you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Some of them are not so pretty and are
+more agreeable,&#8221; replied the girl, nervously. &#8220;Please&mdash;you
+just missed that chuck-hole!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why should I care? I do not want to go to
+Athens.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, but you don&#8217;t want to go to Heaven, either, do
+you? Or&mdash;well, you know what I mean. I don&#8217;t
+know how much of a jar it would take to make this
+thing go off. A chuck-hole might do it.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p>
+<p>Pachuca, evidently depressed, relapsed into silence.
+It was growing colder and darker&mdash;would they never
+get there? However, she would not have been Polly
+had she kept still.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor Pachuca, what did you mean by requisitioning
+goods? You aren&#8217;t working for the government,
+are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Has another revolution broken out?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear young lady, Sonora has seceded and
+other states will follow. Mexico is about to throw off
+Carranza and his government. Is that clear?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pretty clear&mdash;only I don&#8217;t understand why you
+should take our things.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am raising a regiment. When it is complete I
+shall lead it into the field to fight for Mexico.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see. That&#8217;s why you wanted our men?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A regiment means men, señorita.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And our blankets and money and guns and victrola
+records?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not? You Americans make your profit from
+us, why should you not share in our obligations? Did
+your generals spare the South when you had your Civil
+War? War is not a pretty thing, señorita.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They were at war with the South and they
+took&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. They took. An American has but one
+code of morals, and that is to take. I do not quarrel
+with it, I like it. I also take.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly did not reply. She was tired and cold and
+she wanted to get home. Her hand was cramped and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span>
+shaky&mdash;her threat had not been an idle one. She realized
+also that Pachuca for all his docility was only
+waiting the opportunity to turn the tables on her. He
+was a young man most fertile in expedients and it behooved
+her to be extremely vigilant. He would be
+quite capable of shooting up the wrong road and carrying
+her miles in a strange direction.</p>
+<p>The thought made her feel panicky. She tried to
+remember the turns in the road, only to realize that
+she had not seen the road&mdash;she had been in the bottom
+of the car, her head covered with a blanket when she
+had traveled it so short a time ago. Everything looked
+ghostly and unreal to her in the half light, while Pachuca,
+she firmly believed, could see in the dark with
+those handsome eyes of his quite as well as any family
+cat out for a run.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go faster, please,&#8221; she said, sharply, for wherever
+they were going it might be as well to get there before
+dark. &#8220;It&#8217;s getting late and I&#8217;m cold.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Obediently Pachuca swung into the next speed and
+the car bumped cheerfully along, the big lights casting
+a bewildering glare before them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I only knew where we were and what he has up
+his sleeve!&#8221; the girl groaned inwardly. &#8220;I know he
+has something because he isn&#8217;t making any fuss. This
+road is rougher than it was when we came, too; he has
+taken a wrong turn&mdash;I know he has!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca, apparently resigned to his fate, began to
+hum melodiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor!&#8221; Polly&#8217;s voice was sharp with apprehension
+and weariness.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Señorita?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We are on the wrong road; I am sure of it. Go
+back to the place where you left it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;With perfect willingness, dear lady, but where
+shall I go? The road leads to Athens. Is that not
+where we want to go&mdash;I mean where you want to go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;I don&#8217;t know&mdash;I think you&#8217;re tricking me.
+This isn&#8217;t the way we came. It doesn&#8217;t look to me like
+a road at all&mdash;I think you&#8217;re going over the open country.
+I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; The girl paused. It was disheartening&mdash;to
+go through so much and then to fail at last. She
+peered ahead into the dim light, trying to see what lay
+beyond the bright lights of the car. It did look like
+open country. Ahead lay a hill&mdash;a tall hill. Would
+Pachuca try to make it or would he climb around the
+side of it? Something&mdash;it looked like a man on horseback&mdash;was
+coming rapidly down the hill. Had she
+miscalculated and were some of Pachuca&#8217;s men still
+on the road? Perhaps the same thought struck the
+Mexican, for he slowed the car down and peered
+eagerly ahead. Polly clutched the revolver feverishly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it&#8217;s one of your men and you stop&mdash;I shall fire!&#8221;
+she said, quickly.</p>
+<p>Both stared into the dusk in silence. The rider came
+almost into the glare of the lamps.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop!&#8221; cried the girl, loudly. &#8220;It&#8217;s Mr. Scott!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The car stopped, the horse was drawn to his
+haunches, and Scott stared at the couple over his
+gun.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Game&#8217;s up, Pachuca,&#8221; he said, shortly. &#8220;You&#8217;re
+my prisoner.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; cried Polly, jumping out of the car and running
+to Scott. &#8220;I knew he hadn&#8217;t killed you&mdash;but I
+wouldn&#8217;t ask him for fear he&#8217;d say he had! I
+knew&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She clutched his stirrup desperately.</p>
+<p>Scott stared. &#8220;Well. I&#8217;m&mdash;&mdash;!&#8221; he said, and reaching
+down he caught the swaying girl by the arm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not going to faint&mdash;I never do,&#8221; she cried,
+clinging to his arm. &#8220;Don&#8217;t let him get away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Keep him covered. He&#8217;s not going to get away.&#8221;
+Scott swung himself out of the saddle, wound the bridle
+reins around the pommel and gave the horse a clap
+which started him toward home. &#8220;Well, old man, I&#8217;ll
+take the gun, I reckon. Thanks. What&#8217;s up? Getting
+up a revolution?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He doesn&#8217;t have to; it&#8217;s already got up,&#8221; said Polly,
+as she climbed into her place again. &#8220;I hid in the car
+and made him come back,&#8221; she added. &#8220;But I was
+afraid we were off the road.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You were,&#8221; said Scott, briefly. &#8220;I saw your lights
+from the hilltop and came over this way. He was putting
+one over on you all right.&#8221; He tossed into the
+back of the car some of the stuff which was in his way
+and took the seat beside Pachuca who preserved a sullen
+silence. &#8220;Well, I guess we&#8217;ve had enough of
+this. Home, James!&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was not much conversation. Pachuca was in
+a bad humor and confined his attention to the wheel, a
+precaution which the increasing darkness rendered
+highly prudent; Scott was intent upon watching the
+young Mexican, determined to have no tricks played
+upon him; while Polly, exhausted by the excitement of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span>
+the past hour, crouched quietly in the crowded tonneau.
+A long way in the rear the patient pony trotted
+on his homeward way, wondering, no doubt, why
+things that moved on wheels could go so much faster
+than those traveling on plain, old-fashioned legs.</p>
+<p>Out of the dark came a figure on horseback&mdash;as
+unexpectedly as Scott himself had done a few moments
+ago. Scott tightened his grasp on his revolver.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If he&#8217;s a friend of yours, señor, I&#8217;m afraid you&#8217;ll
+have to go by without recognizing him,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He is not,&#8221; replied Pachuca. &#8220;My friends are
+better horsemen than that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s Tom,&#8221; laughed Scott, suddenly. &#8220;He&#8217;s come
+after me. Slow down, señor, if you please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Johnson, riding rapidly, swerved suddenly to one
+side as the big machine without lights came toward
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he began.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it&#8217;s us,&#8221; said Scott, drily. &#8220;We&#8217;ve made a
+haul and we&#8217;re bringing it in. Suppose you wait for
+that horse of mine, will you, Tom, and see that he gets
+home all right? Thanks to this gentleman and his
+friends we&#8217;ve only got three head of cattle left, so
+we&#8217;d best be careful of them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet,&#8221; responded Johnson, heartily. &#8220;How&#8217;d
+you do it, old man?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t, the lady in the case did it,&#8221; responded
+Scott. &#8220;She&#8217;ll tell you about it later. Whoop her up,
+will you, señor? It&#8217;s getting chilly around here.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VIII_THE_PRISONER' id='VIII_THE_PRISONER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>THE PRISONER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Athens was dark and lonely-looking as the big machine
+reëntered it. There was the usual light in the
+store and one in the house occupied by Mrs. Van Zandt
+and Polly. Scott motioned to Pachuca to draw up in
+front of the cabin. Mrs. Van Zandt came out as the
+machine stopped; evidently she was in doubt as to
+whether or not it was another invasion, for she stopped
+in the doorway and peered out anxiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all right, Mrs. Van!&#8221; cried Scott, cheerfully.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve brought her back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly jumped out and ran to the astonished woman.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s all right,&#8221; she reiterated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I see it is; but where did you get that car?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s Señor Pachuca&#8217;s and we&#8217;ve got him, too,&#8221; replied
+the girl, in an undertone. &#8220;And we&#8217;ve brought
+back some of the things they took.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Has Hard come back?&#8221; demanded Scott, as Mrs.
+Van came out to the machine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, and I wish he would. I&#8217;m worried about
+Jimmy Adams. Where are you going to put that
+chap?&#8221; asked Mrs. Van, eyeing Pachuca resentfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think I&#8217;ll ask him to spend the night in Hard&#8217;s
+office,&#8221; replied Scott, thoughtfully. &#8220;It&#8217;s the only place
+we&#8217;ve got that isn&#8217;t on the ground floor, and I guess
+nobody wants to put in the night doing sentry duty.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
+Just bring over a couple of blankets, will you, Mrs.
+Van?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt and Polly went into the house and
+Scott with his prisoner walked across to the office
+where they fell in with O&#8217;Grady, who grinned pleasantly
+when the state of affairs was explained to him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come back to spend the night with us? Sure we
+can make him comfy! Up-stairs, son. You can have
+the engineer&#8217;s office to yourself,&#8221; he added, hospitably.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like leaving you here, Pachuca,&#8221; said Scott,
+as he threw open the door of Hard&#8217;s office. &#8220;It&#8217;s not
+my idea of entertaining the aristocracy, but it&#8217;s the best
+I can do for a gentleman of your peculiar habits.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is your idea?&#8221; remarked Pachuca, surveying
+the small room nonchalantly. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you think
+it would be more practical to let me go? I can&#8217;t do
+any more harm to-day, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s just what I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; replied Scott,
+quietly. &#8220;I know you can&#8217;t do any harm to anyone
+but yourself while you&#8217;re locked up here, and I want
+to turn you over in my mind a little.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll make it worth your while to let me drive that
+car off the place while you&#8217;re all asleep,&#8221; proposed Pachuca,
+smiling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a persuasive cuss, but we need that car.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Going to do a little banditing on our own hook,&#8221;
+put in O&#8217;Grady, cheerfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shut up, Matt! We&#8217;ll send you over some supper,
+Pachuca, and some bedding by and by,&#8221; and locking
+the door behind them, the two men went downstairs.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You think he can&#8217;t slide out?&#8221; suggested Matt,
+doubtfully. &#8220;He&#8217;s a crafty devil.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If he wants to risk breaking a bone or two jumping
+out of the window, let him try,&#8221; said Scott, easily.
+&#8220;How&#8217;s Williams?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pretty good. No bones broke and Mrs. Van
+bandaged him up. He&#8217;s sore as the devil about his
+stuff.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We got a good deal of it back. We&#8217;ll run the car
+down to the store and see just what we did get.&#8221; And
+Scott related Polly&#8217;s adventure with much enjoyment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s a mighty game youngster,&#8221; declared
+O&#8217;Grady, admiringly. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t know they raised &#8217;em
+like that in the East.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll swear I didn&#8217;t. Lucky for His Nobs she didn&#8217;t
+let a bullet into him by mistake.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I don&#8217;t know. It&#8217;s a case of &#8216;eventually, why
+not now?&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>A search of the machine revealed the more important
+part of the loot&mdash;the money taken from the
+safe in the office, Williams&#8217; cash box, and a good many
+firearms, blankets and small items. Horses, saddles,
+bridles, canned goods and innumerable other effects
+had been carried off by the horseback riders, never to
+be regained, unless, as Scott suggested, Pachuca could
+be traded off for them. And, of course, the mine
+would have to be closed down until more workers
+could be obtained, rather an improbable thing in the
+present state of the country.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What beats me is, how did you happen to think
+of it?&#8221; demanded O&#8217;Grady of Polly a little later as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span>
+they sat around the dining-room table eating a hastily
+improvised supper.</p>
+<p>Polly chuckled. &#8220;Well, you see,&#8221; she said, modestly,
+&#8220;we&#8217;ve been having a lot of auto hold-ups in
+Chicago this winter and one of them happened to a
+friend of mine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She and a friend were coming home from a party
+one afternoon, and when she drew up at the house,
+two young men popped into the car, pointed revolvers
+at her and told her to drive up the avenue. Well, she
+drove up the avenue! She said the feel of that cold
+thing on the back of her neck kept her awake at night
+for months. Then when they had gone a little way,
+they stopped, dumped both the women out, and went
+off with the car.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gosh, Chicago must be a great little place!&#8221; remarked
+Matt, admiringly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It just came to me when I saw them putting all
+those things into the car that if anybody could hide in
+it and make whoever was driving return the goods it
+would be&mdash;well&mdash;rather a nice thing to do. Of course,
+I took an awful chance. The horseback people might
+not have taken the trail&mdash;but even then the machine
+would have outdistanced them. I felt sure I could get
+Pachuca alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You took a chance you&#8217;d no business to take,&#8221;
+growled Scott. &#8220;When I told you to stay down in
+that arroyo, I meant stay.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know you did but I couldn&#8217;t,&#8221; apologized Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The only thing you did wrong was not leaving that
+young reptile in the middle of the road like the thieves
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
+did those women,&#8221; pronounced Mrs. Van Zandt, authoritatively.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought of it but I didn&#8217;t have the heart,&#8221; said
+Polly. &#8220;After all, he&#8217;d been kind to me, and he is a
+gentleman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gentleman! My God!&#8221; Scott&#8217;s profanity was
+innocent with true horror.</p>
+<p>&#8220;First time I ever heard a hoss-thief called a gentleman,&#8221;
+chuckled Matt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; Polly looked a bit crestfallen. &#8220;I mean,
+he&#8217;s educated and he comes of good family.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t go much on family,&#8221; said Mrs. Van, wisely.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve seen some mighty mean skunks hangin&#8217; around
+stage doors who were as blue-blooded as dogs in a
+show. Why, even your own family you can&#8217;t be too
+sure about! I had an old auntie who used to say
+she never went back of second cousins&mdash;&#8217;twasn&#8217;t
+safe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s true, too,&#8221; pronounced Matt. &#8220;Some
+don&#8217;t feel easy even with seconds.&#8221; He gathered up
+his dishes and followed Mrs. Van into the kitchen with
+them. Polly ate industriously, while Scott stalked to
+the window and stood lighting a cigarette.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Scott,&#8221; she said, after a long pause, &#8220;are you
+worried about Jimmy Adams?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I am,&#8221; was the curt reply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t there a doctor in Conejo?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but he&#8217;s a dirty scoundrel; I&#8217;d hate to have
+him handle a case like this. We may have to, though,
+thanks to your gentleman friend.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re rather a rude person, aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon so. Anyhow, if he&#8217;s a gentleman, I&#8217;m
+afraid I&#8217;d never pass muster.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Still,&#8221; persisted Polly, pleasantly, &#8220;you will admit
+that he is agreeable?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Agreeable nothing!&#8221; growled Scott. &#8220;He&#8217;s a
+disreputable young varmint, and no decent girl ought
+to speak to him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly smiled and rising, gathered up her plate and
+cup and carried them to the hole in the wall. Then
+she walked over to the window and said confidentially:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think it would be fun if you would tell me some
+of the things he&#8217;s done. Not the yarn about the
+actress and the man higher up&mdash;Mr. Hard told me that&mdash;but
+some other really exciting ones.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not sufficiently interested in the chap,&#8221; replied
+Scott, gruffly. &#8220;Perhaps you&#8217;d like to carry him his
+dinner and ask him to tell you himself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I would,&#8221; replied the girl, promptly. &#8220;I thought
+perhaps you were thinking of starving him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t care to starve him. I want to swap
+him off for our horses, if I can. He ain&#8217;t worth a
+dozen or two good horses, but we can try.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, of course, we have the car to make things
+square.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, we have the car, in case we have to quit in a
+hurry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quit? You mean before Bob comes back?&#8221; the
+girl&#8217;s face was a bit scared.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We may get orders to close up the mine. You
+heard what he said&mdash;that the state had seceded? Well,
+that means civil war, and civil war in Mexico can mean
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span>
+a good many things. I&#8217;m not sure that I want two
+women on my hands under the circumstances.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you talking about, Marc Scott? Is it a
+Yaqui rising?&#8221; Mrs. Van Zandt thrust her head
+through the hole in the wall.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what it is. Pachuca says there&#8217;s a
+revolution on. I&#8217;m hoping to get more news about it
+when Hard comes back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t take much stock in these Yaqui yarns,&#8221;
+said Matt, coming back with another supply of food.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Them Indians ain&#8217;t half as bad as the greasers like to
+make out. Of course, they feel like they had a right
+to raise thunder now and then because they know they
+ain&#8217;t been treated white. But you take it from me,
+I&#8217;ve been knockin&#8217; around Mexico for some time, and
+nine times out of ten there&#8217;s a greaser back of everything
+that&#8217;s laid at a Yaqui&#8217;s door.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s true enough,&#8221; nodded Mrs. Van.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I made up my mind when I read in that El Paso
+paper that there was going to be a Yaqui rising and
+that the gov&#8217;ment was orderin&#8217; troops into Sonora, that
+the gov&#8217;ment most probably had somethin&#8217; up its
+sleeve.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Most likely,&#8221; acceded Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t expect to understand Mexican politics,&#8221;
+said Polly, &#8220;but why, if Mr. Carranza wants to
+be president again, doesn&#8217;t he come out like a little man
+and say so, instead of trying to stir up things with
+troops?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He can&#8217;t be president again. The constitution under
+which he took office forbids a second term,&#8221; replied
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span>
+Scott. &#8220;He might be military dictator, however, if he
+stirred up a revolution and came out on top. That&#8217;s
+what the Sonora people say. But you can&#8217;t tell; it
+may be a square deal and there may be a Yaqui
+rising.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Even then this ain&#8217;t the place for women folks,&#8221;
+grumbled O&#8217;Grady.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nor men neither,&#8221; retorted Mrs. Van Zandt.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve been trying to get Mr. Herrick on the &#8217;phone to
+let him know there was trouble on board, but I couldn&#8217;t
+even get Central.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pachuca would attend to that, of course,&#8221; said
+Scott. &#8220;We&#8217;ll drive over there in the morning and
+see if he doesn&#8217;t want to come back with us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Am I really going to see that fascinating person?&#8221;
+sighed Polly. &#8220;I&#8217;m beginning to think he&#8217;s just hot
+air.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mighty little hot air about old Herrick,&#8221; chuckled
+Matt. &#8220;All wool and a yard wide, I&#8217;d say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he is. That&#8217;s more than I&#8217;d say about a
+good many artistic chaps,&#8221; remarked Mrs. Van.
+&#8220;Most of &#8217;em I hate&mdash;they&#8217;re so crooked. The Lord
+starts &#8217;em weak and the women finish &#8217;em. He sure
+can play, though. Regular pictures&mdash;some of the
+things he composes. I can see the cows grazing on the
+hills in some of &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How queer of him to stay down here!&#8221; said the
+girl, wonderingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; demanded Scott, warmly. &#8220;It seems to
+me that a country like this has a lot more to offer
+that kind of man than your cities have. What&#8217;s New
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span>
+York or Chicago got to give him like these grim old
+mountains, and the lonesome little canyons with the
+cows feeding up and down hunting for water holes,
+and the Mexican folks with their soft voices and fancy
+manners and all the rest of it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cows are queer,&#8221; continued Mrs. Van, pursuing
+her own thought cheerfully. &#8220;Ever see the old ones
+get between you and the calves when you rode by &#8217;em?
+Awful kind of human, they are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott chuckled. &#8220;One summer I was up in New
+Mexico on a ranch when they were rounding up.
+They brought in the cattle from all over the place; for
+days they were getting in strays out of the canyons.
+Among them were two old bulls. Funny old codgers
+they were, and as much alike as two peas in a pod&mdash;fat,
+chunky, ragged looking old rascals.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, all during the round-up those old boys
+stayed together&mdash;in the bull pen and out. We named
+them Tweedledum and Tweedledee. By George, after
+they&#8217;d been turned out on the range again, I was riding
+down a canyon about a couple of miles from the ranch,
+and who should I see but those two old pals, hoofing
+it together as chummy as two old men walking in the
+park.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, how&#8217;s the chow?&#8221; Johnson&#8217;s voice came
+from the doorway. &#8220;Not much left, I should
+say, judging from the happy faces I see around
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come in, Tommy, I&#8217;m just gettin&#8217; something ready
+for that Mexican, but there&#8217;s plenty for you,&#8221; said
+Mrs. Van.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;d you put the feller?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In Hard&#8217;s office,&#8221; said Scott. &#8220;Will you cart him
+his grub, Matt?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You said I might. I want to,&#8221; protested Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly.&#8221; Scott handed her the key ceremoniously.
+&#8220;You&#8217;ve earned the right to have your own
+way to-night, but Matt goes with you. He&#8217;s not above
+throttling you to make a getaway.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a funny world,&#8221; mused Polly, as she walked
+along beside Matt, who carried the tray balanced aloft
+on one outstretched palm. &#8220;Three weeks ago I was
+going to teas at the Blackstone; now I&#8217;m carrying grub
+to a Mexican bandit with the assistance of a fireman.
+How awfully well you carry that tray!&#8221; she said, admiringly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure! Learned to do that one winter in Minneapolis
+when I was out of a job. Handy sort of thing
+to know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; gasped the girl. Then to herself: &#8220;Why
+should I think it queer? Cousin Ben put himself
+through college by waiting on the students at table
+and we thought he had a lot of pep to do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You go on up and holler to the guy that we&#8217;re
+coming but don&#8217;t you open the door till I get there.
+He might paste you one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly complied. She sprang up the stairs with a
+freedom of motion that won O&#8217;Grady&#8217;s silent admiration.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some action!&#8221; he commented. &#8220;Takes them
+stairs as easy as a pussy-cat goes up a tree. Some
+girl that! Old Scotty&#8217;s jealous of the greaser&mdash;do him
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span>
+good&mdash;he&#8217;s gettin&#8217; to be a regular old settin&#8217; hen. Hope
+she shakes him up a bit.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor Pachuca!&#8221; called Polly at the top of the
+stairs. &#8220;We&#8217;ve brought you some supper. May we
+come in?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gracias, señorita, but that rests with you,&#8221; was the
+response.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to open it. He won&#8217;t do anything,&#8221; said
+Polly, decidedly.</p>
+<p>The room was dimly lighted. In the open window
+sat Pachuca&mdash;outside lay the open country, moonlit
+and lovely, the grim coloring of the day now touched
+with silvery softness. Pachuca leaped to his feet and
+relieved the girl of the tray which he placed on the
+desk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am obliged,&#8221; he said, with a touch of a sneer.
+&#8220;The services of a major domo and a beautiful waitress
+are more than I expected.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you ask me, I&#8217;d say it was more than you deserve,&#8221;
+replied Matt, tersely. &#8220;I&#8217;m going out to sit
+on the stairs. If the lady wants to stop and visit with
+you she can, but don&#8217;t you try no monkey tricks because
+they won&#8217;t go down. I&#8217;m heeled.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca shrugged his shapely shoulders, seated himself
+and began to eat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am hungry,&#8221; he admitted. &#8220;I have had what
+you call a hard day&#8217;s work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish,&#8221; said the girl, severely, &#8220;that you&#8217;d tell
+me why you do such things? You&#8217;re a gentleman&mdash;not
+a bandit.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I&#8217;m not a bandit.&#8221; Pachuca&#8217;s composure
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span>
+appeared to be deserting him. &#8220;You do not seem
+to understand&mdash;you Americans&mdash;that Mexico is our
+country and that we must deal with its political situations
+independently of you and your affairs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; innocently, &#8220;I didn&#8217;t know that political situations
+demanded blankets and victrola records.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You must make allowances for my people. They
+are poor and ignorant.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t the people we complain about. They only
+do what you tell them to. Why should you come and
+tell them to stop working for us?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In your country it is only the walking delegate who
+does that?&#8221; grinned Pachuca.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s different. This wasn&#8217;t a strike. These
+men didn&#8217;t want to stop work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear girl, you seem to have lost sight of the
+fact that a revolution is taking place. It is their duty
+to stop working and to fight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It always seems to be their duty to fight and they
+never get anything out of it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They do get something out of it. They got their
+land when they overthrew Diaz. With Carranza, they
+got a new constitution. With Obregon, they will get
+peace and a good government.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you are for Obregon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Naturally. But I must have men and horses and
+munitions. I&mdash;Juan Pachuca&mdash;cannot fight in the
+ranks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see why not,&#8221; said Polly, candidly. &#8220;My
+brother fought in the ranks and he&#8217;s a college man.
+He didn&#8217;t mind.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, in America&mdash;that is different! You have
+no ideas as to family. I beg your pardon, what I mean
+is, that your people are different.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I hope we are,&#8221; replied Polly, piously.
+&#8220;But I&#8217;m afraid some of us aren&#8217;t as different as we
+ought to be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now we are even,&#8221; said the Mexican, showing his
+white teeth. &#8220;And you know why I took your men
+and horses. They will be made good to you when the
+country becomes settled.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so, but it seems to me you&#8217;re going to have
+so many people to settle with that some of us are going
+to come out at the little end. Of course, your car will
+help some.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca frowned. &#8220;Señorita,&#8221; he said, gravely, &#8220;I
+must have the car and I must get away from here to-night.
+Much depends upon it. Won&#8217;t you help me?&#8221;
+He leaned toward her as he spoke, his dark eyes luminous,
+his voice soft and caressing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The tiger kitty is purring,&#8221; thought Polly. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+a nice kitty but I mustn&#8217;t pet it. Señor,&#8221; she said,
+&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry, but I can&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say rather that you won&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly fingered the key which she had taken from
+Matt. Then she put it in the pocket of her sweater.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would be easy,&#8221; said Pachuca, persuasively.
+&#8220;You could throw it into the window there when
+everyone was asleep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would be easy,&#8221; agreed Polly, &#8220;but it wouldn&#8217;t
+be nice.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca ate for a moment in silence. &#8220;I suppose,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span>
+he said, finally, &#8220;that an American girl never does
+anything that is not nice?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;d hardly go as far as to say that,&#8221; replied
+Polly, &#8220;but I don&#8217;t think you&#8217;d find many who would
+be as dishonest as&mdash;oh, what&#8217;s the use? You know I&#8217;d
+like to do it for you because you were kind to me, and
+I do not believe you meant to kidnap me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kidnap you!&#8221; wrathfully. &#8220;Who said I meant to
+kidnap you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, nobody, only&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca began to laugh; gently at first, then wholeheartedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He is jealous&mdash;that good Marc Scott! He told
+you I wanted to kidnap you&mdash;like Villa, eh? Does he
+think a Spanish gentleman so unattractive that he has
+to kidnap a young lady in order to make love to her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what he thinks and I don&#8217;t care,&#8221; said
+Polly, angrily. &#8220;And I wouldn&#8217;t have come here if I
+had thought you were going to be foolish. I wanted to
+show you that I wasn&#8217;t ungrateful&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca had jumped to his feet and stood between
+her and the door. His manner was respectful and
+apologetic.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señorita, I beg your pardon! Indeed&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not necessary,&#8221; said the girl, coldly, trying to
+pass him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no, I beg&mdash;do not go.&#8221; Then, in a lower tone,
+&#8220;I had a double reason for asking your help. I can be
+of help to you and to your brother.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly paused in some surprise. From the stairway
+came the sound of energetic whistling&mdash;a medley of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span>
+&#8220;Wearin&#8217; of the Green&#8221; and the &#8220;Long, Long Trail.&#8221;
+Pachuca continued eagerly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it sounds very extravagant, I know; what my
+brother-in-law used to call a bit thick. But I can help
+you&mdash;to a treasure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A treasure?&#8221; incredulously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. You have heard that I was for a time
+with Villa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, in his camp I met some very strange people&mdash;among
+them a fellow named Gasca&mdash;what you call a
+bad lot. He told me one night when he was very
+drunk&mdash;you know, señorita, how some people talk
+about their affairs when they are drunk?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly&#8217;s eyes were beginning to shine with excitement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He told me that he and his brother had hidden a
+treasure over in New Mexico.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A treasure! Do you mean pieces-of-eight and
+Spanish doubloons?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, I am afraid not. It would be bullion&mdash;ore.
+They took it from one of the Fiske, Doane Co.
+mines in Chihuahua. That is why your brother would
+be interested. Perhaps you have heard of the Sant
+Ynez mine?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bullion!&#8221; Polly&#8217;s face dropped.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For me, I would not object to bullion if I could get
+my hands on it, but I can&#8217;t,&#8221; said Pachuca, candidly.
+&#8220;Gasca, you understand, had this brother who lived in
+New Mexico, in a lonely sort of a spot on the border,
+with an Indian woman that he had stolen from her
+people. He helped Gasca get the treasure across
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span>
+the border&mdash;and they hid it in the canyon where he
+lived.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shortly after that they quarreled and the brother
+threatened to shoot Gasca if he came near the place.
+Also, he told the border patrol some things about Gasca
+so that he was afraid to go over any more. Just after
+I met Gasca, he had heard, in a roundabout way as my
+people hear things, that the brother had been killed and
+the Indian woman had died of a sickness. Gasca
+wanted me to go over with him to find out if the treasure
+was still there&mdash;he felt sure that it was because he
+said the brother would be afraid to dispose of it without
+his help&mdash;but I had what you call other fish to fry.
+Afterward, Gasca himself was shot for disobeying a
+command of the general. If you will help me to
+get away I will tell you exactly where that treasure
+is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly rose suddenly, the light of determination in her
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; she said, firmly. &#8220;I won&#8217;t. Mr. O&#8217;Grady,
+will you come and help me with this tray, please?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure Mike!&#8221; In two strides the fireman was in
+the room, his eyes looking searchingly at both the man
+and the girl. Pachuca, with a shrug of his shoulders,
+put his hands in his pockets and strode to the window.
+The dishes were piled up in silence, the door was
+locked&mdash;the key returning to Polly&#8217;s sweater pocket,
+and the two went back to the dining-room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, was that guy tryin&#8217; to get fresh with you?&#8221;
+demanded Matt, as they went along. &#8220;I set out there
+on the steps because I thought mebbe you wanted to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span>
+chat with the crittur, being acquaintances like, but if
+I&#8217;d of thought that he&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no, he was trying to bribe me to let him go.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let him go? Well, if he ain&#8217;t got a nerve! What&#8217;d
+he offer you&mdash;a castle in Spain?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied the girl, &#8220;a buried treasure in New
+Mexico.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What? Well, say, he must have thought you was
+green to fall for that stuff. A bright, wide-awake girl
+like you, too. Was it under an elm tree fifty paces off
+by moonlight?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why? Couldn&#8217;t there be a buried treasure in New
+Mexico?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I suppose there could if there&#8217;s been a fool
+to bury it; but it seems to me I&#8217;d of tried something
+snappier if I&#8217;d been him. An oil well, or shares in a
+gold mine, or somethin&#8217; first class in the bunk line.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IX_AT_LIBERTY' id='IX_AT_LIBERTY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>AT LIBERTY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Polly and Matt continued their walk in silence until
+they reached the dining-room. They found Scott sitting
+as they had left him, smoking and thinking; while,
+through the hole in the wall, Mrs. Van Zandt could be
+seen and heard busy with the dishes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, did His Nobs enjoy his tea?&#8221; asked Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He did that! Kicked into it like a little man,&#8221; replied
+Matt, cheerfully. &#8220;Also he made the young lady
+a real sporting proposition.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don&#8217;t be absurd!&#8221; snapped Polly, disgustedly.
+&#8220;Anybody&#8217;d suppose you were college boys at thé dansant.&#8221; And she went into the kitchen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you see what you get, Matt; you would horn
+in. What do you mean&mdash;a sporting proposition?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, a rich one. Buried treasure up in New Mexico&mdash;secret
+chart handed down to Juan Pachuca by a
+maiden aunt&mdash;I don&#8217;t know what all&mdash;just to get the
+key of the office, but she was too sharp for him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should hope so. Is that Hard?&#8221; Scott went to
+the window as the sound of hoof-beats was heard.
+Down the street came a man on horseback. Silhouetted
+against the moonlight, the tall Bostonian acquired
+a picturesqueness lacking in daylight. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span>
+take Hard out one of these days and teach him how to
+ride,&#8221; remarked Scott, meditatively. &#8220;Jolt some of
+that Boston stiffness out of him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t,&#8221; replied the Irishman, placidly. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+in his blood. His ancestors brought it over in the
+<i>Mayflower</i> with &#8217;em from England. I&#8217;ll bet you Paul
+Revere rode just like Hard does.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shucks, Matt, those English guys can ride&mdash;stands
+to reason they can. Look at the cross-country stuff
+they do! And on an English saddle at that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Country? The country they ride over&#8217;s nothing to
+what the Irish do. A feller told me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, boys, what&#8217;s up? Why the theatre supper?&#8221;
+demanded Hard, entering.</p>
+<p>He listened to the particulars which poured upon
+him. &#8220;Well,&#8221; he said, finally, &#8220;I&#8217;m sorry I missed the
+excitement. &#8217;Twas ever thus. The only time our
+house ever burned down I was at a matinée of the
+&#8216;Black Crook.&#8217; Well, you saved the cash?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Polly did,&#8221; grinned Scott. &#8220;And we&#8217;ve got
+the boy that made the mischief.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jimmy much hurt?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Afraid so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was afraid something like this would happen,&#8221;
+said Hard. &#8220;They told me over in Conejo that there
+was trouble on. They had an all-night session at Hermosillo
+and the state seceded.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what Pachuca says.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Morgan&#8217;s taken his family up to Douglas.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any news from Bob?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a letter for Miss Polly.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;We won&#8217;t desert until we have orders, but I&#8217;m
+rather glad to have the car,&#8221; continued Scott. &#8220;I
+thought we&#8217;d run over and see Herrick in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say, Scott, that Chinaman of Herrick&#8217;s is a
+doctor. Why not have him take a look at Jimmy&#8217;s
+leg?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A Chinaman!&#8221; Polly had come in with Hard&#8217;s
+coffee.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; cried Scott. &#8220;Just the thing. I&#8217;d forgotten
+about him. When a Chink is scientific, he&#8217;s as
+scientific as the devil.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He came over to practice medicine; you know how
+the Mexicans feel about the Chinese? His money
+went and he had to do what he could. Herrick picked
+him up somewhere and he&#8217;s been there ever since,&#8221; said
+Hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll get him over here for Jimmy. He&#8217;s clean
+at any rate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen to this!&#8221; Polly had opened her letter.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s from Mother,&#8221; she explained. &#8220;Poor old Bob&#8217;s
+in the hospital&mdash;just been operated on for appendicitis!
+Isn&#8217;t that the limit? On a honeymoon!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hard luck,&#8221; commented Scott. &#8220;How&#8217;s he coming
+on?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She says he&#8217;s doing splendidly. You see, he&#8217;s been
+dodging that operation for the last ten years, and now
+it&#8217;s got him, poor boy. Mother says they&#8217;re worried to
+death about me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And well they may be,&#8221; remarked Mrs. Van Zandt,
+heartily.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;She says the directors have met but didn&#8217;t do anything.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That sounds natural,&#8221; said Hard. &#8220;They&#8217;ve been
+doing that for the last three years.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Trying to figure out which costs less; to give up
+the property, or to pay us our salaries to hold it down,&#8221;
+chuckled Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She says I am to come home at once,&#8221; continued
+Polly, &#8220;but that I am not to try to travel alone. Either
+Mr. Scott or Mr. Hard is to go with me to the border.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad somebody in your family has got good
+sense,&#8221; said Scott, grimly. &#8220;It&#8217;s a pity those things
+aren&#8217;t hereditary.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you. I think I prefer to have Mr. Hard
+go.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard bowed solemnly. &#8220;Bob coming back?&#8221; he
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As soon as they&#8217;ll let him,&#8221; said Bob&#8217;s sister,
+promptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, he likes a scrap,&#8221; remarked Scott. &#8220;I hope
+they keep the papers away from him this next week.
+Well, it&#8217;s lucky for you, Miss Polly, that we&#8217;ve got
+Pachuca&#8217;s car. Traveling on these railroads is bad
+enough at any time, but with a brand new revolution
+on hand, it&#8217;ll be the deuce.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think it&#8217;s rather horrid of them not to care
+whether I go home or not,&#8221; Polly told herself, as she
+undressed for bed. &#8220;They might at least pretend they
+don&#8217;t want me to go! I always supposed that the one
+girl in a mining camp would be dazzlingly popular&mdash;but
+this doesn&#8217;t look much like it. And yet&mdash;he likes
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span>
+me, I know he does! He liked my bringing the car
+back; I saw it in his eyes, if he did make fun of me.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s jealous of Don Juan, too. Well, that won&#8217;t
+do him any harm. He&#8217;s so determined not to fall in
+love with me that he&#8217;s going to need a little outside interference
+to make him change his mind. He&#8217;s got to
+change his mind because I&mdash;yes, I do care for him&mdash;a
+lot. People may think these things don&#8217;t come suddenly
+outside of books, but they do&mdash;oh, they do!&#8221;
+And, worn out by the exertions of the day, Polly curled
+herself in a knot and prepared to sleep.</p>
+<p>Juan Baptisto Pachuca had not availed himself of
+the shakedown made for him by Mrs. Van Zandt&#8217;s
+blankets. He had put out his light because he wanted
+to think and he preferred thinking by moonlight. He
+sat in Hard&#8217;s office chair by the window, closed now,
+for the night was cool, and drummed impatiently upon
+the arm of it.</p>
+<p>Mentally, Pachuca was more than impatient; he was
+outraged. His plans had been spoiled, his liberty restricted
+and his dignity impaired. He had been made
+to look ridiculous. Of all the offenses against him the
+latter was the most serious. He hated giving up anything
+he had put his mind on, but he hated a great deal
+more being made ridiculous.</p>
+<p>Nor was it pleasant to be triumphed over by a girl.
+Juan Pachuca liked girls, especially good-looking ones,
+but he liked them in their places, not in the larger
+affairs of life. When they insisted upon mixing themselves
+up with such affairs, they ceased, in his estimation,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span>
+to be pretty girls and became merely tiresome
+members of the other sex.</p>
+<p>Had Polly Street given in to his proposals of escape
+he would have felt in a better temper with her, but he
+would not have been at all tempted to fall in love with
+her. He had been in the mood for that once&mdash;the
+night they had come over from Conejo together&mdash;but
+Fate, or the girl herself, or Marc Scott, he had hardly
+taken the time to decide which, had interfered and that
+was over.</p>
+<p>Pachuca bore Polly no ill will for her part in that
+affair. That was her province&mdash;a love affair. A lady
+had the privilege of granting or denying her favors;
+it was not always because she wanted to that she denied
+them. He knew a good deal about that sort of thing
+and he was willing to give and take very agreeably in
+the game of love, without repining if things didn&#8217;t seem
+to be going his way.</p>
+<p>This, however, was a question of business and Juan
+Pachuca considered that any woman who could get
+ahead of him in a matter of business would have to
+get up exceedingly early in the morning. He would
+get out of that room or he would know the reason why.
+It was highly important that he should. In fact, his
+plans for the next few days depended absolutely upon
+his so doing.</p>
+<p>Pachuca&#8217;s business head, for all his conceit about it,
+was exceedingly primitive. His had been rather a
+primitive career from its beginning. Hard&#8217;s story of
+the actress, while not entirely correct, had its foundation
+in fact. Pachuca had been disgraced; to be disgraced
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span>
+in any manner is bad enough, but to be disgraced
+for doing something that you know quite well
+is being done in perfect security by most of the people
+with whom you are connected is particularly galling.</p>
+<p>Aching to thwart the government he hated, Pachuca
+hastened to ally himself with its particular enemy and
+to work against it with all the impetuosity of his nature.
+But Francisco Villa was not an easy man for
+anyone as heady as Juan Pachuca to get on with.
+There were quarrels and more quarrels, and finally
+Pachuca, again disgusted with the world and its people,
+retired to private life.</p>
+<p>He was not, however, built for private life. Some
+of us are like that. We need the excitement and the
+stimulus of action to bring out our better points. Also,
+Pachuca&#8217;s friends were not of the sort who cared much
+for the quiet life. In those few months of association
+with the great Villa, he had met men of various kinds;
+men who were honestly trying to do something for
+Mexico; men who were dishonestly trying to do something
+for themselves; and men who were in such a
+truly desperate frame of mind after ten years of revolution,
+banditry, and general upset, that they scarcely
+knew what they were doing.</p>
+<p>Pachuca, who for all his aristocratic blood, was an
+exceedingly good mixer, had enjoyed these various and
+sundry associations and in the quiet of private life he
+yearned for them. Very much as a celebrated actress
+feels the lure of the footlights after she has left them
+for matrimony and the fireside, very much as the superannuated
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span>
+fire horse is said to react to the alarm, so
+Pachuca yearned for the agreeable persons with whom
+he had foregathered since leaving the army.</p>
+<p>When there were rumors of another revolution, he
+began to think of looking up some of these exceedingly
+live wires, and seeing what could be done for Freedom,
+Mexico, and Juan Pachuca. It was with the idea of
+informing himself as to these matters that he had taken
+the journey which had resulted in his meeting with
+Polly Street, and the fortnight which she had spent in
+Athens had been used to accomplish a number of
+things.</p>
+<p>Himself rather a good judge of which way the political
+cat might be expected to jump at this particular
+crisis, Pachuca had decided to throw in his lot with the
+Obregonistas. He knew Obregon, knew his hold on
+the people, his popularity with the labor party, and it
+looked to him very much as though that general of
+fascinating Irish ancestry had a good chance of being
+Mexico&#8217;s next president.</p>
+<p>At the same time he realized perfectly that his own
+reputation with the Obregonistas was not good. Various
+tales current among Mexicans of political standing,
+in regard to his relations with Villa, would be very
+much against him, and services rendered the Carranza
+government would hardly be likely to stand him in
+good stead. Pachuca wanted to stand well with the
+new party if he stood with them at all. He intended
+that the next president of Mexico should confer upon
+him an office of distinction, and offices of this sort must
+be earned, not only in Mexico but anywhere. In the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span>
+great republic near by which Pachuca hoped some day
+to visit, preferably on a state mission, things were handled
+in this way also. If he could bring to the revolutionary
+chiefs of the new party men, arms, and money,
+he might hope for a warm reception.</p>
+<p>During the fortnight referred to he had communicated
+with one Angel Gonzales, previously mentioned,
+who had also quarreled with Villa and been rigorously
+persecuted by him. Gonzales was at the head of a
+small band which he was quite willing to consolidate
+with Pachuca&#8217;s men, and they had agreed to meet and
+discuss ways and means. It was toward this rendezvous
+that Pachuca had been journeying when he
+stopped to raid the Athens mining camp.</p>
+<p>To be stopped at such a time was not to be endured.
+Pachuca looked around the small room angrily. He
+looked out of the window. It was a bad drop but not
+an impossible one. An athlete might manage it, he
+supposed, but he was not an athlete&mdash;he was a gentleman
+and a soldier. It would be a nasty thing to try it
+and to break a leg. He had never tried breaking a leg
+but he remembered having heard the family physician
+say that a broken leg meant a six weeks&#8217; vacation and
+he had no mind for a vacation on those terms.</p>
+<p>He went to the door&mdash;locked, of course, he had
+heard the girl turn the key, but one might burst it open.
+He tried, several times, but the door held maddeningly.
+There was no transom, no other door&mdash;nothing but the
+plastered walls and the window. He turned again to
+the window, and threw it open. The cool night air
+came in refreshingly. In the distance, the dark shapes
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span>
+of the mountains stood out forbiddingly in the moonlight.
+Millions of stars winked and twinkled. Gaunt
+cacti reared their ungainly shapes&mdash;beautiful because
+of their very ugliness.</p>
+<p>Somewhere over in those mountains Angel Gonzales
+was wending a torturous path to meet him. Angel
+would swear and rage when he did not come. Then
+he would probably annex Pachuca&#8217;s men and their
+plunder and go cheerfully on his way. That would be
+Angel&#8217;s idea of the philosophical manner of handling
+the situation. Juan ground his white teeth in a fury.
+Again he hung out of the window. The moonlight was
+so glaring that he was easily visible had anyone been
+watching, but all the lights in Athens were out and the
+inhabitants in bed.</p>
+<p>Pachuca swung lightly out of the window and with a
+very cattish agility caught the sill with both hands and
+lowered himself. He looked down. It was the devil
+of a drop. Ten chances to one he would turn an ankle
+at the very least. He made a wry face. One does not
+do things successfully when one does them in this
+frame of mind. With an effort surprising in one so
+slight he drew himself back into the window again.
+There must be another way. It was positively not on
+the cards for him to be fooled in this stupid manner.
+He could see his car standing near the corral and the
+sight urged him to greater efforts.</p>
+<p>He paced angrily up and down the floor. It was a
+very solid floor. As far as he was concerned it might
+be regarded as an invincible floor. If he had a pick,
+perhaps&mdash;Pachuca&#8217;s eyes brightened, and a roguish
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span>
+look came into them. He had been thinking as he
+often did in English, being practically bi-lingual, and
+the word suggested something to him. Why not pick
+the lock? He felt eagerly in his pocket for his knife&mdash;left,
+alas, in the pocket of his leather coat in the machine.
+Still, there might be one somewhere about. In
+the desk, perhaps. The saints would help a good
+Spaniard, undoubtedly. Pachuca was not unduly religious,
+and he could not recall at the moment any saint
+renowned for picking locks, so he let it go at that and
+began to hunt. Some sort of tool might be found in
+the desk.</p>
+<p>The desk yielded pencils, pens, erasers, and other
+harmless implements without number, but nothing even
+remotely resembling a knife. Pachuca slammed the
+drawers angrily and resumed his tramping. The night
+was getting on and he was apparently no nearer freedom
+than when the girl had left him. He cursed volubly
+and disgustedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose if I had the shoulders of that abominable
+Scott I could break the door!&#8221; he muttered. &#8220;On the
+other hand,&#8221; he mused, grimly, &#8220;if I had had his brains
+I would not be here. It was a foolish business&mdash;trying
+to confiscate American property. It rarely pays.&#8221;
+Pachuca, like the famous Mr. Pecksniff, believed in
+keeping up appearances even with one&#8217;s self. His attempt
+was confiscation distinctly and not robbery. &#8220;It
+was talking with the American girl that day on the
+train that put it into my head. She would talk about
+her brother and his mine. Juan Pachuca, when will
+you learn to let women alone? Every time a woman
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span>
+comes upon the scene something disagreeable happens&mdash;and
+usually to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He paused by the window and surveyed it distastefully.
+&#8220;If I have to go out by that window, I will&mdash;but
+I do not like it. If I could bribe someone to put up
+a ladder! But they are all asleep&mdash;the lazy fools.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He glanced at the shakedown which Mrs. Van Zandt
+had sent over by Miller, the idea of a rope ladder made
+of sheets having floated idly through his head. Alas,
+the shakedown consisted of a small hard mattress and a
+couple of blankets, army blankets at that. Anyone
+who can make a rope ladder of army blankets, with
+nothing more solid to fasten them to than a rickety old
+desk, must be cleverer than even Juan Pachuca considered
+himself.</p>
+<p>With a sigh of surrender he returned to the window.
+It was the only way; broken bones or no broken bones,
+it must be attempted. If he were unlucky enough to
+meet with disaster, he must crawl as far as the car, and
+once in the car he defied anyone, white, brown or black
+to stop him. If only they had left him his gun!</p>
+<p>Carefully Pachuca balanced himself once more on
+the window and swung himself out, still clinging to the
+sill. The drop looked easier than it had before; he
+felt almost cheerful about it. Give him five minutes
+alone in the moonlight and he would have his liberty,
+his car and his triumph over Gringo carelessness. At
+the same moment, there arose out of the stillness the
+loud and penetrating bark of an aroused dog.</p>
+<p>Yellow, who slept anywhere, being a tramp dog by
+nature, had elected to pass the night outside Scott&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span>
+window, and the cabin in which Scott was sleeping was
+across the street and only a few feet away from the
+window from which Pachuca was trying to escape.
+Not content with barking, the interfering Yellow
+started on a gallop for the peculiar looking person
+hanging out of the window. Almost instantly, a light
+flashed in Scott&#8217;s room and a head was thrust out of
+the window.</p>
+<p>With an exasperated groan Pachuca drew himself
+back again and waited. Scott&#8217;s head was withdrawn,
+and two seconds later, Scott, himself, clad in pajamas
+and a bathrobe, dashed out of the cabin and was met
+by another figure which seemed to spring from nowhere.
+Pachuca thought the second figure looked like
+Miller, the man who had brought his blankets, but he
+was not sure. By this time the dog had stopped barking
+and was following the two men. Pachuca stood in
+the window, waiting developments. Scott looked up
+with evident relief.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re there, are you?&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So it appears,&#8221; disgustedly. &#8220;Am I a cat to
+scramble out of a window?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Yellow was barking at something,&#8221; replied
+Scott, with a grin. &#8220;Might have been a plain, four-footed
+one, and it might have been a human puss. If
+you don&#8217;t mind, I reckon I&#8217;ll tie him to the front door
+down here. He&#8217;s rough on cats.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Suit yourself, <i>amigo</i>, I&#8217;m going to sleep,&#8221; was the
+disdainful reply.</p>
+<p>Well, that ended going out by the window. Pachuca,
+having a Latin dislike for fresh air in the sleeping-room,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span>
+closed the window angrily and threw himself
+down on the mattress. It was hard and there was no
+pillow. The blankets he would need to keep him
+warm. Pachuca, though used to hardships, dearly
+loved his comfort. He glanced around the room
+again; an old office coat hanging on a peg in a corner
+caught his eye. It would do for a pillow. He took it
+down and rolled it into a wad. As he did so, a clinking
+sound became audible. He reached into the pocket&mdash;a
+bunch of keys and an old hunting-knife came to
+light.</p>
+<p>Pachuca grinned. Well, Heaven was looking out
+for its own; it was not in the nature of things that a
+Pachuca should be trampled in the dust by the proletariat!
+Patiently, one after another, he tried the keys&mdash;ah,
+the right one at last! He turned it and the door
+opened. Pachuca chuckled delightedly; it pleased his
+whimsicality to think that so apparently unsurmountable
+a difficulty should be solved in so plain and unromantic
+a fashion.</p>
+<p>He returned to the window and saw Scott and Miller
+standing outside Scott&#8217;s cabin; saw Scott go inside and
+the cabin become dark once more and Miller go on
+down the street, stopping at the last house near the
+corral. Pachuca frowned. Was the fellow going in
+and going to bed like a Christian, or was he going to
+hang around and keep an eye on the car? This last
+would be extremely awkward. Miller, however,
+turned in at the house and disappeared.</p>
+<p>Pachuca spent five minutes at the window watching,
+but he did not reappear. &#8220;Ah well, one must risk
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span>
+something!&#8221; he mused, and glanced down at the sleeping
+Yellow. Cautiously and with the soft step of one
+who has learned the wisdom of a silent tread, the
+young man slid down the stairway. The door at the
+foot of the stairs was open; it opened outward and
+they had tied the dog back of it.</p>
+<p>Juan Pachuca opened the hunting-knife and surveyed
+it in a business-like fashion. There was a sudden
+movement of his arm and poor Yellow shivered
+and crumpled up noiselessly. Quietly, the knife still
+in his hand, Pachuca slipped behind the building and
+continued his way toward the corral. He reached the
+car unhindered and breathed a sigh of relief; the rest
+would be plain sailing. A peep into the tonneau
+showed him that the plunder had been removed; but
+that, of course, he had expected. He jumped into the
+car and started the engine. At the same moment, a
+burly figure rushed out of the house near by, caught at
+the car as it started, clung to the running-board and,
+leaning over, seized Pachuca by the arm.</p>
+<p>It was Miller; Miller, who had indeed gone to bed,
+but whose bed was near the window of the little cabin,
+and who had been keeping one eye on the car and had
+emerged, scantily attired in a nightshirt tucked into a
+pair of trousers, to put a spoke in the Mexican&#8217;s wheel.
+Pachuca set his teeth! It was too much&mdash;to be so near
+liberty and then to lose it. A desperate look came into
+his eyes; he paid no attention to the angry demand of
+his assailant that he stop the car, but, making a sudden
+lunge, he drove the hunting-knife into the shoulder of
+the big man.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Damn you, put up that knife!&#8221; choked Miller, seeing
+the blow coming but not quickly enough to dodge
+it. With one hand clutching the car and one holding
+Pachuca, he was too late to reach his gun. By the
+time he loosed his hold on the Mexican, the knife had
+reached its mark; a knife none too sharp, but driven
+by a practiced hand, it pierced the flesh, and with a
+groan, Miller dropped off the running-board into the
+road.</p>
+<p>Ah, the good car! Pachuca sang with joy as it
+leaped ahead into the darkness. They would be awake
+in a moment, the lazy Gringos, but what of it? He
+would be out of their reach. He laughed as he flew
+past the house where Polly slept.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Adieu, pretty American! I kiss your hand&mdash;until
+we meet again!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Something struck the back of the car with a sharp,
+tearing sound. Pachuca turned with a grin. A light
+had sprung up in the house into which he had seen
+Scott go. With another chuckle, the young Mexican
+bent over the wheel and whirled down the road toward
+freedom.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='X_THE_DISCOVERY' id='X_THE_DISCOVERY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>THE DISCOVERY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Marc Scott was slow in falling asleep on the night
+of Pachuca&#8217;s escape. He was in the habit of rolling
+over a few times and losing himself; but on this particular
+night he was tormented by half a dozen ugly
+little worries. He was worried about Adams, whose
+leg had a nasty look to the unprofessional eye; he was
+worried about Pachuca, whose case was going to require
+a good deal of finesse; and he was worried about
+Polly Street, who had to be conveyed to the border,
+revolution or no revolution.</p>
+<p>The most pressing danger on his horizon, Scott did
+not worry about because he did not recognize it. He
+was like one of those patients in whose system a deadly
+disease has started, but who remains in perfect health
+to all outward appearances. He was in happy ignorance
+of his feelings for Polly Street. He had been in
+love times enough, he would have told you, to know
+the symptoms; all of which was quite true, but the fact
+remained that this time he did not know them.</p>
+<p>Polly Street was so exactly the sort of girl that Marc
+Scott had not the faintest idea of falling in love with,
+much less marrying, that he would have dismissed the
+possibility with a shrug. He, who valued his freedom
+above everything, to throw it away for exactly the kind
+of woman who would take the greatest pleasure in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span>
+trampling on it? As for his jealousy of Juan Pachuca,
+which should have opened his eyes, he put it aside
+easily. He didn&#8217;t like the fellow&mdash;never had&mdash;and it
+annoyed him to see a decent girl allowing herself to be
+humbugged by his good looks and oily tongue.</p>
+<p>It was a pity, for she was a plucky young thing. She
+had done well to bring back the prisoner and his car;
+mighty few girls would have had the courage to try it.
+It was foolish, of course, a regular kid trick&mdash;wouldn&#8217;t
+have succeeded once in a dozen times, but nevertheless,
+she had shown pluck. It was at this stage in his reflections
+that he had been disturbed by Yellow&#8217;s barking
+and had gone out to investigate. The air and the
+action had changed his circulation and his thought and
+when he went to bed the second time he dropped off
+easily.</p>
+<p>This time he was aroused by the noise of the engine
+started by Pachuca on his escape. At first he hardly
+realized what it was that had wakened him, but as it
+dawned on his consciousness, he jumped to his feet and
+rushed to the window in time to see the car tear down
+the road. With a muttered exclamation, Scott seized
+his gun and sent a bullet wildly in the direction of the
+escaping prisoner. Then he drew on his trousers, calling
+to Hard at the same time.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s wrong? Another raid?&#8221; growled the
+sleepy Bostonian, who had dozed peacefully through
+Pachuca&#8217;s first attempt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. The guy&#8217;s got away,&#8221; snapped Scott, angrily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, we didn&#8217;t particularly need him, did we?&#8221;
+observed Hard, sitting up reluctantly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;We needed his car and needed it bad,&#8221; said Scott,
+viciously. He tramped out of the room, while Hard
+reached drowsily for his clothes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By George, he must have made it through the window!&#8221;
+he muttered as he crossed the street, then as
+he came upon the body of the dog, thrown aside behind
+the open door, &#8220;The dirty butcher!&#8221; he growled,
+furiously. &#8220;And I didn&#8217;t have sense enough to search
+him for a knife!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Outside, he met O&#8217;Grady and Johnson, sketchily
+dressed and wrathful.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You heard him, too, did you?&#8221; he growled. &#8220;He
+got out by the window. This is some of his work,&#8221; he
+continued, pointing to Yellow.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He did not,&#8221; said O&#8217;Grady, promptly. &#8220;Did you
+ever hear of a guy jumping out of a second-story winder
+and shutting it after him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure&mdash;it&#8217;s shut,&#8221; grinned Johnson. &#8220;He come out
+of the door all right. It&#8217;s wide open, and not hurt,
+either.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who let him out? Where&#8217;s the key? You had
+it, O&#8217;Grady.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I did not&mdash;you handed it to the girl, yourself. She
+locked him in all right; I heard her do it,&#8221; replied
+O&#8217;Grady quickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That explains it,&#8221; said Scott, shortly. &#8220;She came
+over here and let him out. Might have expected it, I
+suppose, with a flighty youngster and a smooth talker
+like Pachuca.&#8221; He turned away in the direction of the
+house.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s mad!&#8221; murmured Johnson, admiringly. He
+liked a little excitement himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mad? He&#8217;s jealous, the fool!&#8221; Matt offered, disgustedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jealous? Who of? The greaser?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. Good-looking, Juan is, and a winner with
+the dames.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Scott&#8217;s one of them woman haters. What d&#8217;ye
+mean&mdash;jealous?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Woman haters?&#8221; Matt spat disdainfully. &#8220;There
+ain&#8217;t no such thing as a woman hater, Tommy, in the
+whole animal kingdom. Don&#8217;t you fall for none of
+that stuff. But, believe me, that girl never opened that
+door. She&#8217;s a straight, honest, smart girl, if she is
+flighty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, if she didn&#8217;t, who did?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. I ain&#8217;t sleuthed around enough yet
+to find out. Hullo, here&#8217;s Boston&mdash;half asleep, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott was angry clear through. He did not stop to
+analyze his emotions&mdash;he was not of an analytical mind&mdash;and
+he did not care why he was angry. He felt that
+Polly Street, a girl of whom he was beginning to think
+rather highly, had done an unsportsmanlike thing; a
+thing that Bob&#8217;s sister ought to have been ashamed to
+do; had disgraced the family, so to speak, and had seriously
+inconvenienced him into the bargain.</p>
+<p>Scott had depended on that automobile for various
+things. He wanted it to fetch a doctor for Jimmy, and
+to take Polly, herself, to the border in comfort. Both
+these important things she had jeopardized because she
+had been coaxed into it by a soft-spoken young man
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span>
+with dark eyes. The treasure story he put aside.
+Even a girl from the East would hardly have taken
+that stuff seriously, he thought.</p>
+<p>He would have felt just the same, he reasoned, had
+the culprit been Bob instead of Bob&#8217;s sister. There
+was, thank Heaven, nothing soft about him! He could
+see and hear and even enjoy a good-looking girl without
+making a fool of himself. That was the beauty of
+being on the way to forty&mdash;one saw things in their
+right light&mdash;and did not make a fool of one&#8217;s self over
+girls.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Marc Scott, are we being raided again or what?
+Did I hear a shot and a machine going by or was I
+dreaming?&#8221; demanded Mrs. Van, who, clad in a blanket
+kimono, her feet thrust into moccasins, and a gay-looking
+pink boudoir cap on her head, came to the door
+before Scott reached it. In her rear could be dimly
+seen another figure, wrapped in a gray blanket.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You ought to know,&#8221; said Scott, rudely; focussing
+his attention on the pink cap and ignoring the blanketed
+figure in the rear.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean&mdash;I ought to know?&#8221; indignantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somebody has unlocked the office door and let that
+half-breed get away and he&#8217;s taken his car with him,&#8221;
+said Scott. &#8220;The key&#8217;s in your house&mdash;that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course it&#8217;s in this house. It&#8217;s in the pocket of
+my sweater,&#8221; answered Polly, indignantly. &#8220;If you
+think I let him out&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She was too angry to continue.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he didn&#8217;t get out by the window because
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span>
+it&#8217;s shut, and there&#8217;s no chimney for him to melt out
+of.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Marc Scott, ain&#8217;t you ashamed of yourself?
+Coming here and talking to ladies like that&mdash;and
+in the middle of the night, too.&#8221; Mrs. Van Zandt
+was as angry as the other two. &#8220;That key couldn&#8217;t
+get out of this house to-night without my knowing it.
+He&#8217;s brainy enough to get out without help, that fellow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He may be brainy, but he&#8217;s hardly brilliant enough
+to go through a locked door,&#8221; said Scott, obstinately.
+&#8220;Somebody let him out, that&#8217;s all. If you&#8217;ll be kind
+enough to look for the key, Miss Street, and see if it&#8217;s
+been taken away&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How could it be? From my room?&#8221; demanded
+Polly, angrily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to hold an inquest over it?&#8221;
+asked Mrs. Van, cuttingly. &#8220;I see the jury coming
+along.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Johnson, O&#8217;Grady and Hard were coming across the
+street. Polly drew her blanket closely around her and
+tucked one bare foot behind the other. Her reddish
+colored braids gave her a squaw-like appearance in the
+darkness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all right, Scotty, don&#8217;t stir up the community,&#8221;
+called Hard, cheerfully. &#8220;I&#8217;m the guilty party.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It never dawned on me till I saw the unlocked
+door,&#8221; confessed Hard, with a chuckle. &#8220;The chap
+must have found that old bunch of keys that&#8217;s been
+knocking around in the pocket of my old office coat.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
+I&#8217;m afraid that&#8217;s where he got the knife that did for
+poor Yellow, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean there was a duplicate key?&#8221; demanded
+Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There must have been. Clever chap to ferret it
+out,&#8221; replied Hard, breezily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mighty clever. I could open a door myself with
+a key in my hand,&#8221; muttered Scott, as he turned away.
+&#8220;Well, he&#8217;s gone and the car&#8217;s gone and we might as
+well go back to bed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just one moment.&#8221; Polly&#8217;s voice was clear and
+firm. &#8220;I think you owe me an apology, Mr. Scott.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a suppressed chuckle from the rear where
+the train gang still lingered. Scott stiffened and
+cleared his throat consciously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I apologize,&#8221; he said; then, as he saw the others
+disappear down the street, &#8220;Will you shake hands?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not right now; I&#8217;m going to think it over,&#8221; said the
+girl, coolly. &#8220;I think you should have known that I
+wouldn&#8217;t do a thing like that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I did know it, of course,&#8221; confessed Scott,
+helplessly. &#8220;But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you didn&#8217;t believe it.&#8221; Polly&#8217;s voice was cutting.
+&#8220;Well, next time have a little more faith in your
+friends, Mr. Scott,&#8221; and the blanketed figure disappeared
+into the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She had you there,&#8221; observed Mrs. Van. &#8220;Well,
+go home to bed before you wake up Jimmy&mdash;it&#8217;s a
+wonder he&#8217;s slept through this all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She went into the house and knocked softly at the
+girl&#8217;s door&mdash;after listening a moment and assuring
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span>
+herself that Adams had not wakened. Polly&#8217;s room
+was dark and she was standing, still wrapped in the
+blanket, by the window in the moonlight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; she said, rather curtly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing&mdash;only&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Mrs. Van&#8217;s usually glib
+tongue faltered. &#8220;I was just going to say that you
+mustn&#8217;t take Marc Scott too&mdash;too&mdash;I mean, you
+mustn&#8217;t be too hard on him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hard!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. It&#8217;s just his way; he don&#8217;t mean to be ugly.
+He&#8217;s queer, Scotty is, kind of&mdash;oh, I don&#8217;t know
+how to put it, but he didn&#8217;t mean to be rude to
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was, though, very rude.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that&#8217;s what I mean. It sort of shocked him
+to think you&#8217;d do a thing like that and he didn&#8217;t stop
+to think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe he&#8217;ll stop to think next time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe, but I don&#8217;t reckon so. Folks like that you
+can&#8217;t change much; you have to take &#8217;em or leave &#8217;em
+as they are. He&#8217;s awful square, though. I&#8217;d trust him
+with anything; money, liquor, or women. When
+you&#8217;ve been around as much as I have, you&#8217;ll know
+that means something.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the meantime, Scott, Hard, and the train gang,
+going down to the corral to investigate, found Miller
+lying as Pachuca had left him, in the middle of the
+road. He was regaining consciousness as they came
+along, and did not seem to be badly hurt, the knife
+having entered the fleshy part of the arm near the
+shoulder.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Serves me damn right, bein&#8217; so slow with my gun,&#8221;
+he said. &#8220;I suppose the guy got away?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, he got away!&#8221; muttered Scott, as they
+helped Miller to bed. &#8220;That&#8217;s the kind of luck we&#8217;re
+playing in just now around here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Breakfast next morning was not a particularly
+cheerful meal. Adams was still in bed, and Williams
+was feverish and cross. Miller seemed little the worse
+for his accident, but he was blue; he had been particularly
+attached to the dog and felt its death more
+than his own misadventure.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Blankets, canned goods, saddles&mdash;everything they
+could grab,&#8221; muttered Williams, resentfully. &#8220;Nice
+condition to be in with a revolution looming.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not looming, loomed,&#8221; said O&#8217;Grady, cheerfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wish I could get hold of an <i>Omaha Bee</i>,&#8221; murmured
+Johnson. &#8220;I never somehow feel like I had a
+grip on a situation till I&#8217;ve seen my home paper.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think I&#8217;ll ride over to Casa Grande this morning
+and get the doctor,&#8221; said Hard. &#8220;That leg of Jimmy&#8217;s
+needs advice.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go with you.&#8221; Scott looked at Polly. &#8220;Want
+to go?&#8221; he said; then as she hesitated, he looked at
+her penitently, smiling as Scott did not often smile,
+and whispered: &#8220;Please do!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How mean of him! He knows I&#8217;m dying to.
+How&#8217;s anybody going to stay mad when they want
+to do things?&#8221; said the girl to herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s too far for her,&#8221; objected Mrs. Van.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll send the Chink back,&#8221; said Scott, persuasively,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span>
+&#8220;and we&#8217;ll stay all night with Herrick. We&#8217;ll
+make him play for you,&#8221; he added, as Polly smiled in
+spite of herself. &#8220;Will you go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She must,&#8221; said Hard. &#8220;It&#8217;s her last chance to see
+the country.&#8221; And so the matter was settled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That Chink&#8217;ll ride the whole twenty miles on a
+dead run&mdash;he&#8217;ll be here to dinner,&#8221; said Matt. &#8220;Ever
+see a Chinaman ride?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll ride his own horse, then,&#8221; replied Scott, as
+he left the room. &#8220;Perhaps we&#8217;ll bring Herrick back
+with us, Mrs. Van.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He won&#8217;t leave that piano of his,&#8221; prophesied Mrs.
+Van Zandt. &#8220;No more than a mother&#8217;d leave her
+baby when there was danger around.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was ten o&#8217;clock when the three riders started on
+their trip, Scott preserving a reasonably cheerful face,
+in spite of the fact that he hated late starts. It was a
+beautiful morning; the sky, blue and cloudless, the air
+fresh and invigorating with the crispness of early
+spring, the radiant clearness of the atmosphere making
+neighbors of the mountains, all combined to make
+a tonic which showed signs of going to Polly&#8217;s head.
+After all, there are few sensations like the starting out
+upon a horseback trip; the mare&#8217;s springy trot, the
+freshness of her own healthy body, even the feel of
+the bridle reins brought her joy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You look mighty happy,&#8221; commented Hard. &#8220;It
+must be pleasant to be twenty-three.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly laughed. &#8220;It is,&#8221; she admitted. &#8220;But I&#8217;m
+going to be just as happy at forty-three. I&#8217;ve found
+the recipe.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you sell it to me? My next one happens to
+be my forty-second. I&#8217;ll be needing it soon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll make you a present of it. Stay out-of-doors and
+keep on doing things. Of course, I haven&#8217;t tried it for
+forty-three years, but I feel in my bones that it will
+work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never could see, myself, how people could spend
+twenty-two out of their twenty-four hours under a
+roof, the way most of them do,&#8221; said Scott, thoughtfully.
+&#8220;Here, we turn now into the trail.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s where Pachuca&#8217;s men went yesterday,&#8221; said
+Polly. &#8220;I hope we don&#8217;t meet them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No danger of that. Those fly-by-nights are a long
+way from here by this time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They told me yesterday in Conejo that Obregon
+had been put under arrest in Mexico City. If that&#8217;s
+true it may put a cog in the revolutionary machinery,&#8221;
+said Hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish we&#8217;d managed to keep our hands on that
+automobile,&#8221; remarked Scott, wistfully. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+half fancy trying to make the border in a wagon, and
+no one knows how the railroads will be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The trail debouched from the road, running over
+ground very slightly elevated. There was for some
+distance no particular reason as far as Polly could see
+for its being a trail at all except that it hadn&#8217;t been
+sufficiently traveled to make it a road. It was merely
+a narrow little path leading over some very barren-looking
+country, but leading ever upward, gradually
+but surely, toward the hills.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see, the regular road runs fairly straight along
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span>
+toward Conejo for maybe twenty miles, and then
+meets a crossroad which runs past Casa Grande,&#8221; explained
+Scott. &#8220;Now, with this trail, we cut directly
+across those foothills, over a couple of ranges of mountains,
+across a big mesa and down. Casa Grande is
+almost in a straight line from here and we cut off a
+lot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Casa Grande is an awfully fancy sort of name.
+Is it a wonderful place?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a good little ranch. These Latins like big
+sounding names,&#8221; replied Scott. &#8220;Casa Grande is
+very common down here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A dip in the trail took them into an arroyo and out
+the other side, where they lost sight entirely of Athens.
+A few moments later, they wound their way through
+some brush into a narrow canyon, walled on one side
+by hills and with a drop of some fifteen feet on the
+other side into a ravine. Out of the ravine grew more
+brush so densely that it almost crowded the little trail
+out of existence.</p>
+<p>Here it was necessary to go single file and Polly
+noticed how naturally Scott took the lead, leaving her
+to follow and Hard to bring up the rear. She noted
+with some amusement that it seemed characteristic of
+him to take the lead everywhere, just as it seemed
+quite in keeping with Hard&#8217;s easy-going nature to fall
+into the rear.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And yet of the two Mr. Hard has the education
+and the brains,&#8221; thought the girl. &#8220;No, that&#8217;s not
+fair. I believe you can have just as good a brain without
+education&mdash;only you&#8217;re hampered in the use of it.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span>
+Marc Scott has what the psychologists call &#8216;initiative.&#8217;
+Oh, look!&#8221;</p>
+<p>High up in the air a bird had flown out from among
+the tree-tops on the other side of the canyon&mdash;a big
+bird with wide spreading wings.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s an eagle.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;An eagle!&#8221; Polly was awed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a nest up there somewhere,&#8221; said Scott,
+shading his eyes with his hand and peering upward.
+&#8220;Last year I was riding over this trail with Gomez,
+an Indian we had working for us. We were just about
+here when an eagle, a young one, flew out from the
+trees. Before I could speak, Gomez up with his gun
+and shot it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wanted to kill the geezer&mdash;but Lord, what can
+you expect of an Indian?&#8221;</p>
+<p>As they proceeded, Polly found herself riding closer
+to Scott, while Hard lagged behind. She was not displeased.
+Scott on horseback and in the woods was
+Scott at his best as she was beginning to know.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m wondering,&#8221; she said, as the mare pushed her
+nose along the big bay&#8217;s flank, &#8220;how you know so
+much about the country. You aren&#8217;t a Westerner, are
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me? No, indeed. Born in New York State and
+raised in Michigan. Never laid eyes on anything west
+of the Mississippi until I came out to Colorado to work
+in the mines. Then I drifted into New Mexico and
+down here.&#8221; Scott was riding with his knee around
+the pommel and talking meditatively over his shoulder.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You see, I&#8217;ve got mining in my blood. My grandfather
+was a Forty-Niner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did he get rich?&#8221; asked Polly, interestedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not so&#8217;s you&#8217;d notice it. Spent all he had and
+died trying to get home.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hard luck, wasn&#8217;t it? My folks went to Detroit
+when I was a little codger and they both died there.
+I was adopted by an uncle&mdash;an uncle who was the
+whitest man God ever made,&#8221; declared Scott, solemnly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why was he&mdash;I mean, how was he?&#8221; Polly had
+by nature that healthy capacity for asking questions,
+which is one of the most flattering characteristics that
+a woman can have or assume.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was always doing decent things. Didn&#8217;t have
+much money, either, but somehow he always made it
+do for a lot of folks who didn&#8217;t have any. He adopted
+a girl that wasn&#8217;t any kin to him, had her educated and
+then married her. She made him a fine wife, too,
+thought the world of him. Well, he adopted me and
+sent me to school and when he saw I had the roving
+instinct and couldn&#8217;t stick to the books, he gave me a
+lift to go West to the mines. He knew that there was
+no use arguing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was queer, too. Didn&#8217;t like city folks nor their
+ways. He owned one of those big farms out near
+what&#8217;s now Grosse Pointe&mdash;ran down to the river&mdash;and
+when the town began to grow out toward them,
+instead of holding on to his land as it began to get
+valuable, he&#8217;d sell out and go further away. Died,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span>
+leaving Aunt Mary just enough to live comfortably on&mdash;might
+have been a millionaire. But Uncle Silas was
+a wise man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sometimes when I look at these tight-fisted old
+guys who make their millions and tie &#8217;em up into
+estates to hand down, and then remember Uncle Silas&mdash;not
+giving a hoot for money and always pulling
+along a dozen or two poor relations and setting &#8217;em
+on their feet, living comfortable and happy, leaving a
+wife that&#8217;s as fond of him to-day as she was the day
+he died&mdash;well, I sort of wonder if money and success
+mean as much as folks think they do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott&#8217;s autobiography was halted by the view which
+met their eyes as they rounded the turn at the top of
+the canyon. Turning, the narrow trail wound its way
+around the mountainside until one looked down upon
+the tops of foothills, green with scrubby vegetation.
+Then it stretched in an irregular line down the mountainside,
+to disappear in their midst. Beyond lay another
+range of mountains.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Back of that range and across the mesa is where
+Herrick&#8217;s place is,&#8221; said Scott, as they drew rein and
+waited for Hard to come along. Polly gazed in silence.
+It was the first view she had had of the wilder
+part of the country and it thrilled her.</p>
+<p>Hard came up with them. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you think we&#8217;d
+better make a little speed when we hit the level?&#8221; he
+said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve only crossed one stream since we started,&#8221;
+observed Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We cross another just before we get to Herrick&#8217;s,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span>
+said Hard, &#8220;but it never has much water in it except
+in the rainy season.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve seen plenty in it then,&#8221; said Scott, laughing.
+&#8220;I was caught on the wrong side once when they&#8217;d
+had a cloudburst in the mountains. Oh boy, you
+should have seen her come down! Swept away a
+wagon with two horses and the Mexican who was
+driving it in just two minutes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, how could it&mdash;in two minutes?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it could and did. Before that there wasn&#8217;t
+a foot of water in the river bed. When the water
+came thundering down there was eight or ten. Picked
+up trees, bushes, chicken coops, greasers&mdash;anything in
+its way, and whirled &#8217;em down the canyon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was the middle of the afternoon when they crossed
+the second range, which they did by means of a trail
+which went through a gap, thus cutting off the worst
+of the ascent. Once through the gap, they came out
+upon a huge mesa from which they looked down upon
+the valley in which Casa Grande was located. On the
+mesa, the tired horses broke into the little easy-going
+jog which mountain ponies love.</p>
+<p>Scott watched Polly&#8217;s sparkling eyes with real gratification.
+He had chosen to go by trail rather than by
+road very largely that she might have this experience.
+He wanted her to see more of the country before she
+went back to the city and its ways.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s a natural out-of-doors woman, and she&#8217;s
+never had the chance to find it out,&#8221; he mused. &#8220;Better
+than a golf course?&#8221; he asked, as they trotted
+across the broad mesa.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; she cried, reproachfully. &#8220;It&#8217;s like the
+happy hunting grounds! I never understood before
+why the Indians called their Heaven that. It was because
+they were thinking of space and openness and
+freedom. I think it beats our kind of Heaven all
+hollow,&#8221; finished the cheerful product of 1920.</p>
+<p>Finally they came out on the other side of the little
+river bed, which lay below the mesa and was entered
+by means of a rocky staircase, crossed a round-topped
+hill, and there, in a flat little valley surrounded by hills,
+the rear view of the Casa Grande ranch-house became
+visible. Two or three smaller buildings stood near it
+and a fence marked the corral.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XI_CASA_GRANDE' id='XI_CASA_GRANDE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h3>CASA GRANDE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>There was a great stillness about the place; the
+whole panorama suggested a picture rather than an
+actuality, except for the white clouds sailing slowly
+about in the blue sky, and an occasional bird flying
+from one tree or bush to another.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like things being so still,&#8221; said Scott.
+&#8220;Let&#8217;s push on.&#8221; Riding around to the front of the
+house&mdash;a long, narrow, adobe building, they came upon
+the first real sign of habitation; a brown hen, who, accompanied
+by her family, was scratching around the
+walk with an immense show of industry; while on the
+veranda sat two men. One was a white man; the
+other, a Chinese, dressed in the dark blue shirt and
+trousers of his people. As the newcomers dismounted,
+the white man came forward.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph, it&#8217;s you!&#8221; he remarked, with evident relief.
+&#8220;Well, here is what is left of a once prosperous
+household.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He was a little man, thin and wiry, with bushy brown
+hair and beard, and keen dark eyes. His hands, slender
+and with long white fingers, played nervously
+with a quirt which he held, apparently for no purpose
+than that those nervous members might have occupation.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s happened?&#8221; demanded Scott. &#8220;How do,
+Li Yow?&#8221; as the Chinaman came forward smilingly
+to take the horses.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All gone,&#8221; he said, blandly. &#8220;Laided. One hen,
+some shickens&mdash;notting else left.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Raided! Did that young rascal&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; began Hard,
+when Herrick interrupted impatiently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, he has been to you, too? He makes a clean
+sweep of it! He comes here at noon with a score,
+perhaps, of men; and if there is anything they do not
+take, it is because it is broken&mdash;like my wagon. Men,
+money, and stock&mdash;our neighbor is thorough and no
+mistake!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was afraid of it,&#8221; said Scott. &#8220;He&#8217;s cleaning
+up the community. Herrick, I want you to know Bob
+Street&#8217;s sister, Miss Polly Street.&#8221; He added a few
+words of explanation of the girl&#8217;s presence. Herrick
+surveyed her with interest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are unlucky to strike this country at such a
+time,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Unless you like experiences?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do,&#8221; said Polly, promptly. &#8220;That&#8217;s why they&#8217;re
+sending me home.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The little man smiled. &#8220;After all, most experience
+is worth while,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Sit down and rest&mdash;you
+will stay, all of you, won&#8217;t you? For the night?
+There is some food left.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott and Li Yow walked away with the horses to
+the barn which stood not a great way from the house,
+surrounded by a good-sized corral. Polly sank into
+an easy chair which commanded through a window a
+view of a part of the living-room. She caught a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span>
+glimpse of a grand piano, bright colored rugs, bookcases
+overflowing with books, and other evidences of
+comfort. Hard gave their host an account of the
+Athens hold-up, not forgetting the part Polly had
+played in it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I remembered,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that Li was a doctor,
+and thought perhaps you&#8217;d loan him to us for Jimmy.
+We don&#8217;t think much of the Conejo medico.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Himmel, no!&#8221; responded Herrick, quickly. &#8220;You
+shall have Li, of course.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly leaned back with a little sigh of content.
+Herrick smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are tired,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and by and by you will
+be chilly. Henry, as Li is busy, suppose you build up
+a fire in the living-room?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly looked a bit surprised, but Hard laughed as he
+went into the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Herrick never does any rough work,&#8221; he said, indulgently.
+&#8220;He has to take care of his hands.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So!&#8221; replied their host, &#8220;my fingers are my good
+friends, consequently I take good care of them. Why
+not? Some day I may need their services again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so,&#8221; said Polly, frankly. &#8220;I think it&#8217;s
+rather dreadful for an artist to bury himself in a place
+like this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One does not bury oneself, my child, one rests and
+creates,&#8221; said the musician, gently. &#8220;Ah, here is
+Scott! He has been looking at my wagon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott tossed Polly her long cloak which she had left
+on her saddle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I took a look at the wagon, while Li turned
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span>
+the horses out,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I think I can patch it up
+so that we can drive to Athens in it. You see, Herrick,
+we&#8217;ve only got three horses and I have to send
+Li back on one of them to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can he make it&mdash;the horse?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;With a little rest and a feed&mdash;if Li takes it easy.
+Of course, it&#8217;s not the way I like to treat my horses,
+but Jimmy&#8217;s leg is in a bad state.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well. You may have Li and also the wagon,&#8221;
+replied Herrick. &#8220;The more willingly because I have
+a favor to ask of you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course. What is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have a guest,&#8221; said the other, slowly. &#8220;A lady,
+from the South. She has had to leave her plantation
+and is on her way back to the United States. I had
+intended taking her to the border, but since you are
+sending this young lady&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He stopped, and Polly
+thought she saw a look of understanding pass between
+them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll see her through, of course,&#8221; said Scott, readily.
+&#8220;Can she be ready to go in the morning?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should think so,&#8221; replied the little man; &#8220;we will
+ask her.&#8221; To Polly&#8217;s disappointment, the talk passed
+on to the revolution and other political subjects, and
+nothing more was said about the mysterious guest.
+&#8220;If they&#8217;re going to tack a Mexican refugee to me,
+they might at least tell me something about her!&#8221; she
+thought.</p>
+<p>In the meantime, Hard had entered the living-room
+and was examining the contents of the wood-box.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Empty, of course!&#8221; he said, with a smile. &#8220;The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span>
+household is quite evidently off its balance.&#8221; He went
+out through the kitchen and returned in a few minutes
+with a basket of logs from the wood-pile. As he re-entered
+the living-room, a woman&mdash;a tall, slender,
+graceful woman, with black hair and eyes, entered it
+from the hall. There was a moment&#8217;s silence and
+then the basket of wood dropped crashingly from
+Hard&#8217;s arms. The woman smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Henry!&#8221; she exclaimed, coming forward, both
+hands outstretched. &#8220;Henry! I heard your voice&mdash;I&#8217;d
+have known it anywhere, even if Victor hadn&#8217;t told
+me that you lived near here. You haven&#8217;t changed
+one bit in&mdash;how many years is it since I saw you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fifteen years, six months, and twenty-seven days,
+Clara,&#8221; replied the tall Bostonian, taking her hands and
+leading her to the light. Something in her easy,
+friendly manner had softened both the shock of the
+surprise and the embarrassment of the situation. He
+looked long into her face and then dropped her hands.
+She sank into a chair by the fireplace.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is a long time, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; she said, smiling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No one would think so to look at you,&#8221; said Hard,
+sincerely. &#8220;You are the same Clara Mallory who
+went to Paris fifteen years ago to study music.&#8221; He
+picked up the basket of wood and proceeded to build
+the fire. She watched him, her eyes misty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s odd that I haven&#8217;t changed for I&#8217;ve been
+through a lot,&#8221; she said, with a little smile. &#8220;And
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just the same easy-going, good-for-nothing chap, I
+reckon,&#8221; replied Hard.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But this mining business? But, of course, you
+were educated for it at the Tech&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, without much idea of using it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, being a Hard, you weren&#8217;t contented with doing
+nothing,&#8221; said Mrs. Conrad. &#8220;You know why I&#8217;m
+here, I suppose?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Herrick told me some time ago that you
+were living down near Mexico City&mdash;and that Dick
+Conrad had died, and how.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Conrad was silent for a moment. &#8220;Two years
+ago,&#8221; she said, quietly. &#8220;While he lived, we managed
+to hold down the plantation fairly well. He got on
+well with the government, and he organized the peons
+and fought off the bandits. Since then, things have
+gone rather badly; it takes a man to handle that kind
+of a situation. I&#8217;ve been raided six times in two years
+and my patience is almost gone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wrote up here to Victor; he&#8217;s always been a
+good friend of mine&mdash;I studied with him in London,
+you know, and knew his wife well. He advised me to
+sell and go home. I didn&#8217;t take his advice about selling;
+I couldn&#8217;t get anything decent for the place right
+now, and I&#8217;ve a fairly good man running it for me.
+I have faith in this country and I intend to come back
+some day and go on with my plantation.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You always were plucky, Clara.&#8221; Hard touched
+a match to his fire. &#8220;But Mexico&#8217;s no place for you.
+Where are you going?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; admitted Clara, frankly. &#8220;Back to
+the States, of course, but where and for what I don&#8217;t
+know. But I hope&mdash;my music.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Your music?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Victor says it&#8217;s not too late&mdash;but&mdash;well, perhaps.
+I&#8217;m out of the way of cities, and I&#8217;ve enough so that
+I don&#8217;t have to do anything, but&mdash;oh, I would love to
+be at it again!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard smiled. &#8220;You will, Clara. You&#8217;re not an
+idler&mdash;as I am. You&#8217;ll be in the thick of it in no
+time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, you have found one another! I thought perhaps
+you would.&#8221; Herrick&#8217;s voice broke in upon their
+talk. He was followed by Polly and Scott, and introductions
+and explanations came naturally.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not a Mexican refugee, and it is the lady of the
+photograph!&#8221; Polly said to herself, triumphantly.
+&#8220;But it doesn&#8217;t look to me much like a love affair.
+They&#8217;ve got over it evidently.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you also were raided by Juan Pachuca?&#8221; said
+Mrs. Conrad, as Scott seated himself beside her. The
+latter nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I happened to hear him talking to one of my men,&#8221;
+said Herrick, &#8220;and telling him that he had a rendezvous
+with Angel Gonzales, somewhere in the vicinity&mdash;not
+too near, I hope. I don&#8217;t want Angel Gonzales
+on my place; I&#8217;d rather entertain the devil.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a queer name&mdash;Angel! Who is he?&#8221; asked
+Polly, curiously. She was beginning to realize, since
+she had gotten off her horse and relaxed into the comfort
+of an easy chair near the fire, how very tired she
+was.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A young ruffian with a price on his head,&#8221; replied
+Herrick. &#8220;He&#8217;s half Indian and half Mexican
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span>
+and they tell me that both halves are very bad indeed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If Gonzales&mdash;by the way, Miss Polly, don&#8217;t mix
+him up with Pablo Gonzales who is a general of note
+and one of the candidates for the next presidency&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; said
+Hard, laughing. &#8220;If Gonzales is
+trying to get in with the new party, he must have inside
+information that the revolution is going to be a success.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, its first work had better be to line Angel
+and a few more of his kind up against a wall and settle
+&#8217;em with a firing squad,&#8221; said Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what I think,&#8221; declared Mrs. Conrad. &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t put much faith in this regiment business. I
+think Pachuca has simply gone back to first principles
+and run amuck.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Polly stopped, consciously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Polly thinks he&#8217;s a gentleman and that ends
+it,&#8221; said Scott, drily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s young, and the wretch has a way with him.
+I liked him myself when I was young and frivolous,&#8221;
+said Mrs. Conrad, cheerfully. &#8220;I&#8217;ve entertained him
+many a time in Mexico City. Suppose you go into
+my room, my dear, and have a nice rest and clean up
+while I go and help Li rustle us a dinner out of the
+remnants?&#8221; she continued, taking the girl by the
+hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If Angel Gonzales is playing around this neighborhood,
+the sooner we get away the better,&#8221; said Scott to
+Hard as the three men were left together. &#8220;Come
+and cast your weather eye over the wagon. For a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span>
+quiet part of the country, we seem to have struck a bad
+gait.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was nearly eight o&#8217;clock when they sat down to
+their dinner; a dinner contrived with Oriental thrift
+from materials scorned by the marauders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Give a Chinaman a handful of rice and a few vegetables
+and he&#8217;ll make you a feast, so my husband used
+to say,&#8221; remarked Mrs. Conrad. &#8220;You simply can&#8217;t
+starve them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Li wants to start right after dinner,&#8221; said Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And ride all night?&#8221; asked Herrick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He says so. He says he knows the trail, and, of
+course, he&#8217;s got the moon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A little later, as they sat around the fire, they heard
+the sound of his horse&#8217;s feet on the stones and knew
+that the Chinaman had started.</p>
+<p>Polly began to feel the charm of the quaint room,
+with its dim lighting, the low fire, the fantastic patterns
+of rug and basket showing faintly, and through the
+windows the mountains and the stars. As the conversation
+began to yield to the quiet of the place, Herrick
+went to the piano and played softly. It had never
+fallen to the lot of the girl to hear such music; the
+revelation of a man&#8217;s soul, poured out through an absolute
+mastery of the art. The little man, with the
+brown beard and the long nervous hands, sat hunched
+up in his low chair, knees crossed, eyes half closed,
+drawing from the keyboard the chords which carried to
+each one the message of his own heart.</p>
+<p>Presently, Clara Conrad rose, and, standing back of
+the piano, leaning over it, her hands clasped, began to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span>
+sing&mdash;softly and easily&mdash;her voice, a rich contralto,
+blending with Herrick&#8217;s small but exquisite baritone,
+in an old song. Polly looked at Hard, seated in a dim
+corner, his chin resting on his hand, his eyes fixed on
+the two at the piano. She wondered what he was
+thinking and what the woman meant to him. There
+was something almost too intimate about the whole
+scene and she was glad when Scott rose and went
+toward the door, speaking to her as he passed her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Want to see a pretty sight?&#8221; he said. She nodded
+and followed him out. For miles in front of them
+stretched the hilly country, dotted here and there in
+the half light by clumps of trees and bushes showing
+inky black in the night, while in the distance stretched
+the mountains, irregular, dark, and mysterious looking.
+Over all shone the moon, while the stars&mdash;but
+who can describe the stars in a desert country?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Makes you feel like you&#8217;d never seen stars before,
+doesn&#8217;t it?&#8221; asked Scott, as the girl stood, drinking in
+the scene.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t it? So many, so bright and so twinkly!
+Do you know, I don&#8217;t wonder that Mrs. Conrad&#8217;s
+rather a wonderful woman&mdash;living all the time with
+this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, she is, rather. She&#8217;s had a hard life, too;
+lots of trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wasn&#8217;t her husband&mdash;I mean, weren&#8217;t they happy
+together?&#8221; asked the girl.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, I guess they were,&#8221; replied Scott,
+cautiously. &#8220;I reckon they were like most married
+folks, rubbed along together pretty well.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But you said she&#8217;d had lots of trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott smiled. &#8220;And you made up your mind right
+off that it was a love affair, eh? You&#8217;re a good deal
+of a kid, aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly flushed. &#8220;I think you&#8217;re rather inconsiderate,&#8221;
+she said, crossly. &#8220;You start up my curiosity
+and then you make fun of me. I don&#8217;t think I like
+the way you treat me, most of the time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think it&#8217;s fair, myself,&#8221; said Scott, penitently.
+&#8220;I suppose a girl brought up as you&#8217;ve been
+oughtn&#8217;t to be blamed for seeing a love affair behind
+every bush.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why do you say brought up as I&#8217;ve been?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean having everything easy; everything done
+for you. No real hard knocks in life.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, if that&#8217;s all, I&#8217;ll probably have hard
+knocks enough before I get through. Most people do,
+I&#8217;ve noticed,&#8221; replied Polly, easily. &#8220;I&#8217;ll probably
+marry somebody who&#8217;ll spend all his money and leave
+me eight children to support, or else I&#8217;ll die a rheumaticky
+old maid. Will that satisfy you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t talk that way,&#8221; said Scott, sharply. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+unlucky.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Unlucky? Are you superstitious?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, but I&#8217;ve noticed that people who are always
+expecting bad luck usually get it. I&#8217;d hate to have
+you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he stopped, and Polly caught a look in his
+eyes that startled her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Die a rheumaticky old maid?&#8221; she said, nervously.
+&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t want to, either, but it seems to me that
+the number of people who get out of this world without
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span>
+a lot of trouble of some kind or other is a pretty small
+one, so you needn&#8217;t begrudge me a few years of easy
+going. What was Mrs. Conrad&#8217;s trouble?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s had a good deal of it first and last, but I was
+thinking of her husband&#8217;s death, two years ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you know her then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me? No, indeed, I never met her before to-night,
+but Hard told me, and so did Herrick. I don&#8217;t reckon
+Hard would mind my telling you her story, now
+you&#8217;ve met her. You see, he and she were young folks
+together in Boston. I guess they sort of played at being
+in love with each other, like young folks do. Then
+her father died, and left her with hardly anything, and
+that woke &#8217;em up. It made things look more serious.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hard wanted to marry her, but she wouldn&#8217;t. She
+had a voice and she wanted a career; so she went to
+Europe. That&#8217;s where she met Herrick and took lessons
+of him. Then, suddenly, instead of going on the
+stage, she married one of those floating Englishmen.
+Met him in Paris, married him, and came over here
+with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t she care for Mr. Hard?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s pretty hard sometimes to know who a
+woman does care for,&#8221; said Scott, candidly. &#8220;But if
+she did, she must have got over it. Or maybe she got
+tired of the singing business and took Conrad in a fit
+of the blues. I&#8217;ve known &#8217;em to do that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Men, I suppose, never marry for reasons of that
+sort!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Men? Lord, yes, men&#8217;ll do anything&mdash;most of
+&#8217;em,&#8221; grinned Scott, cheerfully. &#8220;We&#8217;re a rum lot.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span>
+Anyhow, Mrs. Conrad married her Englishman and
+came over to the coffee plantation with him. I guess
+they had some trouble like everybody else has had these
+last few years, but they managed to weather it. Then,
+about two years ago, they went on a hunting trip, up in
+the mountains, just the two of them and a Mexican
+boy. While they were there, Conrad shot himself
+while he was cleaning his gun.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was hopeless from the first and she knew it, but
+she stayed alone with him and sent the boy back to the
+ranch for a doctor. He died while they were there
+alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly&#8217;s eyes had tears in them. She was staring
+wistfully at the mountains. &#8220;I&#8217;m trying to think what
+it would mean&mdash;being up there, alone, with someone
+you loved who was dying,&#8221; she said at last. &#8220;No
+wonder little things don&#8217;t bother a woman who&#8217;s been
+through a thing like that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it&#8217;s those things that make character, I guess,&#8221;
+said Scott, thoughtfully. &#8220;Or break it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hasn&#8217;t Mr. Hard ever been down there to see
+her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, there&#8217;s a proud streak in Hard&mdash;or maybe he&#8217;s
+got over his feeling for her. He never would let her
+know he was in the country. I rather guess Herrick
+planned this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder? Oh, what is it? What do you see?&#8221;
+she cried, as she noticed that Scott&#8217;s attention was no
+longer on her, but was fastened upon the dark foothills
+which rose between them and the mountains.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know; wish I had my glasses! Looks to
+me like fellows riding&mdash;do you see &#8217;em? Over there,
+coming through that darkish spot between the foothills?
+Wonder if we&#8217;re in for another row?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;yes, it is! Coming this way!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go in and tell them to put out the lights and stop
+that noise quick!&#8221; Scott&#8217;s voice was hard and sharp.
+Polly darted into the house. Scott strained his eyes to
+watch the party of riders racking recklessly down the
+dark roadway from the hills. &#8220;It can&#8217;t be Pachuca!&#8221;
+he muttered. &#8220;He wouldn&#8217;t come back. It must be
+that damned young Angel. Well, I guess we&#8217;re in for
+trouble before daybreak.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; Hard was at his elbow. Scott
+turned and saw that the house was dark.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a bunch on horseback&mdash;see, over yonder?
+They&#8217;re making good time; they&#8217;ll be on us in half a
+minute. Where&#8217;s Herrick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Getting the rifles. Where are the horses?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the pasture, up by the river. They&#8217;ll not find
+them in a hurry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hadn&#8217;t we better have the women go up there,
+too?&#8221; said Hard, anxiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe so. If they&#8217;re bound for us, there&#8217;s
+no time. I think&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Scott,&#8221; Clara Conrad&#8217;s voice came softly from
+the dark doorway, &#8220;if that&#8217;s Angel Gonzales why can&#8217;t
+we all go&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know who it is, and the moon&#8217;s too strong
+out there&mdash;they&#8217;d spot you in a minute.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But we can&#8217;t sit here and do nothing!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You can do as you please.&#8221; Scott&#8217;s voice was
+ugly with the ugliness of strained nerves. &#8220;I say stick
+to shelter while you&#8217;ve got it.&#8221; He drew his revolver
+as he spoke and examined it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re coming fast.&#8221; Hard&#8217;s voice was tense.
+Herrick carrying three rifles came out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get inside&mdash;everybody!&#8221; ordered Scott. The
+party had turned in from the road and were dashing
+toward them. Mrs. Conrad and Polly were already in
+the house. The men followed. &#8220;They ride like Indians,
+Hard; I believe it&#8217;s Yaquis on the warpath!&#8221;
+He and Hard stationed themselves at the open windows
+in the darkness. &#8220;I&#8217;m for waiting till they attack us;
+what do you think?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Let them make the first move.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The intruders were at the gate. Now they swept in,
+a couple of score of them. They whirled and made
+for the barn.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re Indians, all right,&#8221; whispered Scott.
+&#8220;They&#8217;re after the horses.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The silence was complete for a few seconds, the
+women obediently crouching in the darkest corner
+scarcely seeming to breathe, Scott and Hard, hidden
+behind the light curtains, keeping their eyes fixed upon
+the swiftly moving figures outside, Herrick standing
+just within the doorway. Suddenly, cries broke the
+stillness. Two of the Yaquis who had entered the
+barn came out with the news. The yells were of rage.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No horses!&#8221; grinned Scott. &#8220;Their feelings are
+hurt. Here&#8217;s where the play begins.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re firing the barn,&#8221; said Hard, grimly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></p>
+<p>They were. It blazed like a child&#8217;s bonfire and the
+shouts and curses of the disappointed Yaquis rose
+with the flames.</p>
+<p>In another moment the Indians had ridden toward
+the house. Polly, who in spite of orders, had crept
+toward the window saw them in amazement. Between
+the moon and the light of the blazing barn, they were
+distinctly visible.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But they can&#8217;t be Indians!&#8221; she exclaimed, at
+Scott&#8217;s elbow. &#8220;They&#8217;re just like our Mexicans!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you expect them to wear scalp locks? Get out
+of range, quick! Hard, cover the second chap, there.
+I&#8217;m going to give the first boy a shock. They&#8217;ll be in
+here in half a minute if I don&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His shot rang out and the bullet flew over the Indian&#8217;s
+head. It was close enough to make him pull his
+horse to its haunches while those behind him did the
+same.</p>
+<p>&#8220;While I&#8217;m talking to him, you women slide out
+the back door,&#8221; muttered Scott, hurriedly. &#8220;Make
+for the stream and the horses while they&#8217;re watching
+us. Hello, out there, what do you want?&#8221; he said in
+Spanish.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Conrad gripped Polly&#8217;s arm. &#8220;Come!&#8221; she
+said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We can&#8217;t!&#8221; demurred the girl. &#8220;We can&#8217;t leave
+them like this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come!&#8221; repeated Clara, angrily. &#8220;Do you want to
+fall into their hands?&#8221; Polly, too frightened by her
+tone to resist, crept softly behind her. They heard the
+Indian at whom Scott had fired answer. To Polly it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span>
+meant nothing, but Clara&#8217;s ears, accustomed to the
+tongue, caught an angry demand for horses, food and
+money.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We haven&#8217;t any of those things. We&#8217;ve just been
+raided&mdash;cleaned out&mdash;we&#8217;re as poor as you are,&#8221; was
+Scott&#8217;s reply. The Indians conferred together. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+a question of whether they think we&#8217;re lying or not,&#8221;
+said Scott, drily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. And they have unfortunately every reason
+to believe that a white man usually is,&#8221; replied
+Hard. &#8220;What&#8217;s the play if they come at us?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shoot as many as we can,&#8221; said Scott. &#8220;They&#8217;ll
+do the rest. That&#8217;s why I sent the women off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought so. Well, here goes. I ought to be
+able to get a couple before I cash in though I&#8217;m not
+considered very dangerous with firearms,&#8221; replied
+Hard, calmly, though his heart was registering something
+approaching acute blood pressure.</p>
+<p>From the leader came in angry Spanish: &#8220;We don&#8217;t
+believe you! We&#8217;ll come and get it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on!&#8221; yelled Herrick. Instantly, a dozen
+Yaquis were off their horses and running toward the
+house, shooting as they came. As instantly, two of
+the leaders fell in the path of the others.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good boy, Herrick!&#8221; cried Scott. &#8220;Let &#8217;em have
+it again!&#8221; he yelled, as the Indians, halted for a moment
+by the fall of their men, came on again. The
+shots rang out again but this time no one fell. Hard
+felt something sing by him in the darkness and thanked
+God that the women were not there. Herrick rushed
+over for more cartridges.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re coming!&#8221; he shouted, excitedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let &#8217;em come. Some of &#8217;em are coming to something
+they won&#8217;t like,&#8221; growled Scott. &#8220;Look out&mdash;in
+the doorway!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Two Indians had burst their way into the house, but
+disconcerted by its utter darkness after the moonlight
+outside, paused a moment to get their bearings. Scott,
+Hard and Herrick shot with one accord. One Indian
+came on; the other uttered a cry of pain; then both
+dashed outside for the shelter of the veranda. There
+was silence; the Indians hesitating in doubt as to their
+companions&#8217; fate, the white men uncertain as to what
+form the attack would take next.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are the women gone?&#8221; Herrick called softly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Hard. &#8220;Are you all right?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So. They whistle through my hair but they do
+not touch me,&#8221; replied the musician, cheerfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here they come!&#8221; cried Scott, impatiently.
+&#8220;Watch your shots!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Indians were coming, and coming in a body.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gosh, it&#8217;s going to be all day with us in half a
+minute!&#8221; gasped Scott. &#8220;Let &#8217;em have it as hard as
+you can, boys. We may be able to hold &#8217;em long
+enough to give the women a chance to get the horses.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard clenched his teeth and bent his eye on his
+rifle. In another moment the invaders would be upon
+them&mdash;when, sharp and decisive came the sound of
+shots; shots from among the foothills, followed by
+yells. There was a cry from the Indian who led the
+rush; a wavering of the line; and a stop. They broke
+into loud talk. In the meantime, the shots and yells
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span>
+continued. They seemed to come from two directions.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s another crowd back in the hills. They&#8217;ve
+got another fight on their hands,&#8221; muttered Scott,
+listening. &#8220;It&#8217;s a flank attack and these fellows don&#8217;t
+like it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it is&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is. Hear that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>There were more yells; the Yaquis outside flung
+themselves into their saddles and in another moment
+the two wounded men lying near the windows were all
+that remained of the attack.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By golly, I&#8217;ve heard of luck before, but this is a
+case of the pure and unadulterated article,&#8221; said Scott,
+awed.</p>
+<p>Hard did not reply. He was taking a deep breath&mdash;the
+first in several minutes. Herrick whistled cheerfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Unless it&#8217;s Angel Gonzales,&#8221; continued Scott, pensively.
+&#8220;In that case it&#8217;s a question of &#8216;Go it, old
+woman; go it, b&#8217;ar.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s go after the horses and the women,&#8221; said
+Hard. &#8220;The quicker we hit the trail for home the
+better my circulation&#8217;s going to be. I think the Hards
+must have deteriorated considerably since the battle
+of Lexington. I&#8217;m getting to be a regular old
+woman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott laughed. &#8220;You&#8217;re a pretty good pal in a fight,
+old man,&#8221; he said, simply. &#8220;I think you winged one
+of those birds outside. Shall we go and have a look?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not I,&#8221; replied Hard, decidedly. &#8220;It&#8217;s unpleasant
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span>
+enough to me to kill a man without pawing him over
+afterward.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott went outside and looked over the victims of
+the fight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dead, both of them,&#8221; he said, briefly. &#8220;Come on,
+let&#8217;s get out of this before their friends come back.&#8221;
+And to the sounds of yells and shots in the distance
+they made their way toward the stream.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XII_A_NIGHT_RIDE' id='XII_A_NIGHT_RIDE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h3>A NIGHT RIDE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>When Li Yow clattered up the trail leading out of
+the river bed and up the mesa, he was a happy man,
+in spite of the fact that a horse was to him the last
+means of locomotion that he would have chosen for an
+all night trip, with the possible exception of a camel
+or an elephant. Except as objects for his scientific
+skill, horses were not dear to his heart. A wagon, a
+train, an automobile, these were sensible conveyances
+for an intellectual man of an old and distinguished
+family going about his business, but a horse, never!</p>
+<p>Not that Li would have admitted that his family was
+old. Distinguished, perhaps, but scarcely old when it
+only counted its ancestry through some eight or nine
+hundred years. In China that is to be classed among
+the blatantly new. He was happy, however, because
+he was being given a chance to use his skill for that
+great purpose for which it had been acquired, the alleviation
+of pain.</p>
+<p>Li was a student, and for five years he had had very
+little opportunity for the work that he loved. With
+the patience of the Oriental, he had toiled at an inferior
+art; now opportunity had come, and so eager
+was he to grasp it, that a twenty-mile ride on an uncongenial
+animal, in the night, did not deter him. Not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span>
+that he was afraid of the dark as we like to think the
+Chinese are. Li Yow had a philosophy, old when the
+Christian philosophy was born, which amply sufficed to
+relieve his mind of any superstitious terrors. Mexicans
+on the rampage, and Yaquis on the warpath, did not,
+however, come under the category of superstitious
+fears, and he heartily hoped he might accomplish his
+journey without meeting either of them.</p>
+<p>He rode Scott&#8217;s big roan, Cochise, a common-sense
+animal which could be trusted to the tender mercies
+of what its master called &#8220;a crazy Chink.&#8221; This excellent
+beast understood thoroughly the art of saving
+his strength, and curbing any foolish enthusiasm on
+the part of a rider to race up-hill or to exhaust one&#8217;s
+wind too early in the game.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Spirit and a bit of deviltry are all right in a horse
+or a woman, I&#8217;ll grant you,&#8221; Scott used to say when
+anyone derided the roan. &#8220;But the horse or the
+woman who lives with me has got to have common
+sense.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So Li Yow and Cochise trotted placidly along the
+mesa, one thinking of the joys of surgery, and the
+other of the pleasure of feeding in one&#8217;s own corral.
+They had been out a couple of hours perhaps, and Li,
+moved by the beauty of the night, quoted a fragment
+of eighth century poetry and turned in his saddle to
+see how far he had come&mdash;when, suddenly, he gave an
+exclamation of horror!</p>
+<p>Back of him, across the river bed, back of the
+round-topped hill, from exactly the spot where Casa
+Grande stood, he saw the tops of flames shooting up
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span>
+against the sky line! Something was being burned.
+Something sizable, or its flames would not rise so
+high. It must be either Casa Grande, its barn, or
+both. Li&#8217;s heart stood still. He stopped Cochise in
+sympathy with that important organ. What to do?
+At Casa Grande was a friend to whom he was attached.
+Things of a most unpleasant nature might be happening
+to him&mdash;could he ride away and leave him?</p>
+<p>On the other hand, what could he do&mdash;a lone
+Chinese, unarmed except for a formidable surgical apparatus?
+After all, they had two horses and perhaps
+they had seen the brigands coming and had escaped.
+Still, if he went back they would have three horses.
+The women could ride and the men could ride and
+tie. Li groaned in spirit. He hated walking more
+than he hated riding.</p>
+<p>Obviously his duty was to go back and offer his help
+such as it was. If they were fighting, it would not be
+worth much, unless he could persuade a Mexican or
+two to stand still while he stabbed them with a lancet.
+With a sigh, Li turned Cochise in the direction of
+Casa Grande and applied an encouraging dig of the
+heel.</p>
+<p>Cochise, however, saw things differently. He had
+started for Athens. Athens was home and a good
+place at that. He saw no reason for going back just
+to please an ignoramus who didn&#8217;t know how to ride
+and who would probably change his mind again before
+they had gone a mile. Consequently, when Li kicked,
+Cochise threw his head in the air and made crab-like
+motions with his legs. Li pulled and Cochise reared.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span>
+Li, mindful of past instructions, loosed the reins and
+Cochise whirled. Li leaned over and patted the horse&#8217;s
+neck and Cochise bucked.</p>
+<p>It was a nice exhibition of obstinacy on the part of
+both man and beast, and no one there but the moon to
+witness it. The buck, however, did the business. A
+bump and a rattle reminded Li Yow of his precious
+medical chest&mdash;absolutely unreplaceable&mdash;and with a
+frightened:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whoa, thou son of evil, thou animal of ill omen!&#8221;
+he gave in; and Cochise, secure in his victory, settled
+down to a trot again. &#8220;Ah, well, a sensible man
+spends no time in weeping over the inevitable,&#8221; meditated
+Li. &#8220;What is to be, will be. The young man
+with the injured leg is the gainer by thy obstinacy, oh,
+vile beast!&#8221;</p>
+<p>At daybreak a tired man and a stiff horse arrived at
+Athens. Mrs. Van Zandt saw them because she was
+up attending to Adams who was suffering. She hailed
+the Chinaman from her doorway, bathrobed and
+boudoir capped as she was.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that you, Marc Scott?&#8221; she called anxiously, as
+she recognized Cochise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, lady,&#8221; replied Li, in his professional manner.
+&#8220;This not Mr. Scott, this Li Yow from Casa Grande.
+I come see sick boy,&#8221; and he rolled off the horse.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s good, he needs you! Leave the horse
+and come in.&#8221; Li complied and Cochise, released,
+started wearily for the corral. &#8220;See here,&#8221; Mrs. Van
+Zandt led the way to the bedroom, &#8220;I guess you&#8217;re
+pretty well used up, ain&#8217;t you? I&#8217;m going to get you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span>
+something to eat in a minute. Did you have a hard
+ride?&#8221; She had got a light and looked at him curiously.
+Li Yow did look very much used up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hurry a great lot,&#8221; he said, simply. &#8220;I want go
+back but the horse he want come on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did you want to go back for?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fire. I see big fire at Casa Grande,&#8221; replied the
+Chinaman, gravely. &#8220;I much afraid the bandits burn
+the house.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt pulled him suddenly from the bedroom
+door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good land, man, don&#8217;t let the boy hear you! He&#8217;s
+half out of his head now. What do you mean? Has
+Casa Grande been raided?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Li nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By Pachuca?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He come morning, take everything&mdash;horses,
+chow, money, everything! Then Mr. Scott&#8217;s folks
+they come in afternoon. Only thlee horse for
+everybody. Mr. Scott say he mend wagon and they
+come over to-morrow. I come to-night to see sick boy.
+When I get up on mesa I see fire&mdash;don&#8217;t know who
+make him but mebbe bandits.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt turned pale. Clutching her bathrobe
+tightly she made for the door. &#8220;Look here,&#8221; she
+called, over her shoulder, &#8220;you look after the boy and
+mind you don&#8217;t spill any of that news before him. I&#8217;ll
+get you some breakfast and see what&#8217;s to be done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then she came back. &#8220;They were all right when
+you left them? The young lady, too?&#8221; she queried,
+anxiously.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, they all light. Both them ladies all light.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Both! Who&#8217;s the other?&#8221; demanded Mrs. Van
+Zandt, instantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Hellick got flend&mdash;Mrs. Conlad,&#8221; said Li,
+wearily. &#8220;She come day before yest&#8217;day&mdash;from
+Mexico City. Mr. Hard&#8217;s flend, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens, now what do you suppose the
+heathen means by that?&#8221; gasped the astonished
+woman. &#8220;Come here,&#8221; she added, sternly, and seizing
+the Chinaman by the sleeve of his blouse, she led him
+into the room occupied by Polly. Dramatically, she
+pointed to the photograph on the wall. &#8220;Is that the
+woman you&#8217;re talking about?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Li examined the face gravely and nodded. &#8220;Yes,&#8221;
+he said, &#8220;only younger here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van released him suddenly. &#8220;All right, go
+on in and see the boy,&#8221; she said, and hurried down
+the street. &#8220;Fire and bandits&mdash;and I let that poor
+girl go over there with those men!&#8221; she gasped.
+&#8220;And what on earth is that woman doing at Casa
+Grande? It&#8217;s either a scandal or a romance, that&#8217;s a
+cinch!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter? Whose horse was that?
+Great snakes, Mrs. Van, what the devil&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Johnson,
+hastily and scantily attired, came down the street,
+followed by the others. Cochise had waked up the
+camp. Mrs. Van looked at them tragically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the Casa Grande Chinaman come over to see
+Jimmy. He rode Cochise,&#8221; she sobbed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;d he ride Cochise for? What&#8217;s come over
+Marc Scott, lendin&#8217; Cochise to a Chink?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Tom, something awful has happened,&#8221; and she
+burst into the story.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t the heathen go back to help?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess he tried to, but Cochise got scared and
+wouldn&#8217;t go. What do you suppose it is ?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gosh, I dunno! Don&#8217;t sound like Pachuca; he
+wouldn&#8217;t come back a second time. Sure looks
+bad.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the feller says Mrs. Conrad&#8217;s there. What&#8217;s
+he mean by that, do you think?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Hard&#8217;s friend; the widow woman that lives
+down South. Upon my word, Tom Johnson, I do believe
+that&#8217;s the woman and the trouble that the ouija
+meant and I thought all the time it was talking about
+Polly Street!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dunno, I&#8217;m sure. Where&#8217;s Cochise?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gone down to the corral.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Guess I&#8217;d better go down and give him the once
+over. They&#8217;ve probably rode him to death between
+&#8217;em. Gosh, I&#8217;m sorry to hear that news!&#8221; and Tom
+strode off, sadly, followed by the others. &#8220;Poor old
+chap,&#8221; he murmured, a few minutes later, as he took
+the saddle off Cochise. &#8220;Can&#8217;t do nothin&#8217; for your
+boss, so I&#8217;ll do what I can for you. Pretty well petered
+out, ain&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Tom, what are we going to do about this
+Casa Grande business, anyhow?&#8221; demanded O&#8217;Grady.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, with a dynamited track, a busted auto, a
+smashed &#8217;phone connection and a foundered horse,
+what would you suggest doing?&#8221; demanded Johnson,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span>
+pessimistically. &#8220;Walkin&#8217; ain&#8217;t so durned good in this
+country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If we could get to Conejo we could get Mendoza
+to drive us over to Casa Grande,&#8221; hazarded Williams.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that ain&#8217;t a bad idea for you, Jack,&#8221; said
+Tom, patronizingly. &#8220;I reckon I&#8217;ll stretch my legs in
+that direction after breakfast. Suppose we go up and
+see what the Doc says about Jimmy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the meantime, the doctor had examined his patient&#8217;s
+leg, quietly ignoring the flood of excited questions
+hurled at him by the boy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Him velly bad,&#8221; he declared at length. &#8220;You
+keep him still while I get bullet out, mebbe he get well.
+You talk a heap and mebbe I cut him off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You cut him off and I&#8217;ll cut your liver out, Li, you
+sabe?&#8221; grinned Adams, gamely. &#8220;Anyhow, it&#8217;s
+blamed good of you to ride over here. I&#8217;ll bet you&#8217;re
+sore, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt coming up the road with the tray
+in her arms met the men coming up from the corral.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never did suppose I&#8217;d see myself carrying breakfast
+to a Chinese,&#8221; she said, wearily, &#8220;but you can&#8217;t
+tell these days what&#8217;ll come your way. I know exactly
+how that poor guy feels. I rode over to Casa Grande
+once on Cochise. He&#8217;s wide and he&#8217;s rough and anyone
+who wants to ride him twenty miles is welcome to
+him as far as I&#8217;m concerned.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The train gang hung around to hear the verdict on
+Jimmy Adams. They were much relieved to hear that
+the operation was to be one of probing rather than of
+cutting. They had had some gloomy discussions on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span>
+that point which had ended in consulting the mail order
+catalogue in order to see whether it advertised artificial
+limbs.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He wants one of you to help,&#8221; said Mrs. Van, coming
+out of the room. &#8220;I wisht you would. I feel that
+nasty this morning that the sight of blood would just
+about finish me. Go on in, Tom.&#8221; Tom went in.
+Mrs. Van set the tray on the table. &#8220;Seems funny to
+be waiting on a cook, don&#8217;t it? But I suppose it&#8217;s different
+when he&#8217;s tending the sick, and I&#8217;ll say he&#8217;s
+clean. He washed his hands before he touched Jimmy.
+I watched him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s more than old Estrada over in Conejo
+does,&#8221; said O&#8217;Grady. &#8220;He pulled a tooth for me last
+winter and he come in from feedin&#8217; his pigs to do it.
+Right plumb into my mouth he started to put his dirty
+fist. &#8216;No,&#8217; says I, &#8216;you wash that mitt first. Afterward
+you can suit yourself.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You better get a swig of whiskey ready for Tom,&#8221;
+suggested the brakeman, solicitously. &#8220;Them operations
+is ugly things.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will,&#8221; said Mrs. Van, hurrying to the cabinet and
+taking down the bottle.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIII_THE_WAGON' id='XIII_THE_WAGON'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h3>THE WAGON</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Herrick stopped before they had gone a dozen
+yards from the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go on and find the women,&#8221; he said, curtly. &#8220;I
+have something to do before they come.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Scott stared at the little man
+uncomprehendingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So. Do you want them to see those ugly bodies?&#8221;
+he pointed to the two dead Yaquis, stretched ghastly
+and plain in the moonlight. &#8220;I shall pull them into the
+shadow of the bushes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he&#8217;s nervy for a piano player, ain&#8217;t he?&#8221;
+murmured Scott, as he and Hard turned the corner of
+the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think, myself, that there&#8217;s a lot of rot talked
+about the artistic temperament,&#8221; replied Hard, drily.
+&#8220;The war showed us that poets could fight as courageously
+as plumbers, and I&#8217;ve always thought that
+when you got the real unadulterated article in artistic
+temperament, you usually got with it a distinctly cruel
+streak. I believe that you and I hated killing those
+Indians a lot more than Herrick did, though he&#8217;ll
+probably throw a nervous chill over it after a while
+and compose a piece about it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe so,&#8221; assented Scott. &#8220;He&#8217;s the only
+artistic chap I ever got real close to and I don&#8217;t mind
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span>
+admitting he&#8217;s mighty queer&mdash;but he ain&#8217;t yellow. I&#8217;ll
+say that for him after to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were passing a clump of bushes as he spoke
+and two dark figures started forth. Scott instinctively
+put his hand on his gun.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; gasped the shorter figure, &#8220;what has happened?
+Are you shot? Who is running away&mdash;you
+or they?&#8221; She seized Scott&#8217;s wrists with a clutching
+hold.</p>
+<p>Scott laughed. &#8220;That&#8217;s how you obey orders, is it?
+Where are the horses?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. We stayed right here,&#8221; faltered
+Polly. &#8220;I want to know if you&#8217;re hurt!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, not if I know it, and I usually recognize bullets
+when they hit me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What happened?&#8221; insisted the other woman.
+&#8220;Have they gone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re fighting somebody over in the hills&mdash;we
+don&#8217;t know who it is,&#8221; replied Hard. &#8220;Probably
+Angel Gonzales. These fellows were evidently an advance
+guard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We ought to get out of here before they come
+back,&#8221; said Scott. &#8220;You can&#8217;t tell how long that will
+last&mdash;and whoever licks, we don&#8217;t want to be hanging
+around here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll burn the place, I suppose,&#8221; said Mrs. Conrad,
+wearily. &#8220;May I go back and get some things?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott hesitated. &#8220;I think we ought to get away,&#8221;
+he said. &#8220;But one of us will have to go back to get
+Herrick and the saddles&mdash;if you can hurry&mdash;go with
+her, Hard, and I&#8217;ll go after the horses.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Saddles?&#8221; Polly spoke suddenly. &#8220;Weren&#8217;t they
+in the barn?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No; luckily I put them in the wagon when I was
+tinkering with it,&#8221; said Scott. &#8220;We&#8217;ve only two
+horses, you know, and I want you women to ride
+them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By&mdash;by ourselves?&#8221; Mrs. Conrad&#8217;s usually cheerful
+voice sounded a little frightened. &#8220;I couldn&#8217;t find
+that trail in the dark; I&#8217;m not Li Yow, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The horses will take you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, please let&#8217;s keep together!&#8221; pleaded Polly.
+&#8220;Why can&#8217;t we all go in the wagon the way you
+planned?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, for one reason, the harness was in the
+barn and was burned,&#8221; said Scott, with some irritation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Herrick has a lot of old junk of that sort in his
+storeroom,&#8221; volunteered Hard. &#8220;I believe you could
+patch up one. Those sounds have died away&mdash;the
+fight&#8217;s over,&#8221; he added. &#8220;Let&#8217;s go back and have a
+look, and see what Herrick says.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a pause and the two men consulted anxiously
+together. It was very still&mdash;not a sound from
+the direction of the hills. It really did look as though
+the attack had been followed by flight. Scott, against
+what he afterward called his better judgment, but what
+was really only a disinclination to change his mind,
+gave in, and the two men walked on ahead.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If we&#8217;re going in the wagon, Hard, we&#8217;ve got to
+go by the road, and I don&#8217;t stir a step on that road till
+I know whether this deviltry is over for the night or
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span>
+not. We&#8217;ll camp down here for a few hours, and
+start by daybreak.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not? The horses need the rest and so do we.
+I say camp, by all means.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Everything seemed harmless at the ranch house.
+Herrick, who had performed his unpleasant task, was
+studying the extent of the damage, which seemed to be
+confined to broken windows. When consulted, he approved
+of the idea of an early morning start in the
+wagon and believed that out of the odds and ends of
+harness in the storeroom something could be patched
+up and made to do.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right then.&#8221; Scott&#8217;s voice was emphatic. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+fix the wagon first thing in the morning. And now,
+let&#8217;s all turn in and catch a few winks before daybreak.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe I&#8217;ll sleep a minute,&#8221; said Polly, as
+the two women were left alone in the room which
+Clara Conrad had been occupying. &#8220;I&#8217;ll throw my
+cloak around me and lie down on the couch. I feel
+awfully strung up, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said the older woman. &#8220;But I&#8217;m going to
+try to sleep, and so must you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As a matter of fact, Clara did not expect to sleep.
+The meeting with Henry Hard had brought up old
+memories&mdash;memories both happy and sad. He had
+changed little, the tall, thin, sandy-haired man. It was
+good, oh so good, to have something back again from
+the old life! As she closed her eyes and put away
+from her the events of the day, old scenes came back
+with a clearness that they had not worn for many
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span>
+years. The old houses; the quiet, cultured, elderly
+men and women, the gayer young ones, herself and
+Hard among them; the dinners, dances, concerts; the
+summer days on the water, and the rides&mdash;all came
+back as though they had been but yesterday, and all on
+account of this one man who had played so important
+a part in them.</p>
+<p>She realized, as she lay there in the darkness, that
+without putting the thought clearly, she had had deeply
+imbedded in her mind the idea that she would see him
+or hear something about him when she went back to
+Boston. She was not in love with him, but she had
+never forgotten him and she would never feel about
+him as she did about so many of the others who had
+played parts in her old life. Soothed by the thought,
+she drifted into a calm and restful sleep.</p>
+<p>Polly, however, was too unskilled in the management
+of her thoughts to be able to relax at will. She lay
+quietly, so as not to disturb the other woman, but her
+mind was whirling. She lived again each event of the
+past two days; the raid on the mine, the ride with
+Pachuca, his escape, the trip to Casa Grande, and the
+growing companionship with Scott&mdash;the look she had
+surprised in his eyes only an hour ago when she had
+stood with him on the veranda, looking at the distant
+mountains; and then the dreadful minutes spent behind
+the bushes, listening to the guns of the attacking
+Yaquis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I thought a golf tournament was exciting!&#8221;
+she said, smiling in the dark. Softly she rose and crept
+to the window. It was very beautiful out there; mountains,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span>
+hills, bushes, all a study in absolute stillness.
+The only sound that came to her ears was the howl of
+a wolf in the distance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Coming in at just the right moment,&#8221; smiled the
+girl. &#8220;What a country for effects! Oh dear, I believe
+I could sleep out there in the hammock if it wasn&#8217;t
+too chilly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Taking the couch cover over her arm she crept softly
+out of the door and out on to the veranda where the
+hammock swayed gently in the breeze. Polly adjusted
+herself in it with care; a fall would bring all the occupants
+of the house out with a bound.</p>
+<p>&#8220;First they&#8217;d bound and then they&#8217;d fuss,&#8221; she said
+to herself. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want to be fussed at, I just want
+to snatch a few winks out under this gorgeous sky. I
+don&#8217;t understand how when skies and stars and
+mountains are all laid out for them, artists want to do
+the red and green futurist horrors that they love so.
+Now, what&#8217;s that noise?&#8221;</p>
+<p>A queer kind of noise it was. Polly sat up quite
+suddenly. It seemed to come from behind a clump of
+bushes some distance to the right. It was a pounding,
+scraping sort of noise, not very loud, but distinctly disconcerting.
+You got the impression that whoever was
+doing it was trying not to make any more noise than he
+could help. Polly&#8217;s heart beat rapidly. She must call
+one of the men. She rose unsteadily and at the same
+moment the noise stopped. A tall figure stepped
+out from behind the bushes and came toward the
+house.</p>
+<p>Polly stepped back into the shadow of the porch.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span>
+She was about to dive into the open window when another
+sound caught her ear. The man was whistling
+softly&mdash;whistling the Slumber Motif from Die Walküre!
+Polly laughed aloud. She had taken Henry
+Hard for a bandit.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, what are you doing up on deck?&#8221; he said,
+whimsically. &#8220;I thought we&#8217;d sent the passengers below
+and battened down the hatches.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t sleep, so I came out here. What are
+you doing with that pick? Was it you I heard digging?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Scott and me. I came up for a match.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But what can you be digging for at this time of
+night? Not buried treasure?&#8221; eagerly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear child, I hate to disappoint you, knowing
+your feelings on the subject. If you must know, we
+killed a couple of Yaquis and we&#8217;re burying them on
+what we&#8217;d call at home &#8216;the lawn.&#8217; It&#8217;s rather awful,
+but we can&#8217;t help it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Killed them!&#8221; Polly&#8217;s eyes were wide with horror.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a rotten business, if you ask me, both killing
+and burying. I&#8217;m just beginning to form a faint idea
+of the sort of thing the youngsters we sent abroad had
+to face. I was keeping up my courage by whistling.
+Won&#8217;t you go to bed like a nice girl?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I couldn&#8217;t stand it in there in the dark. It
+doesn&#8217;t seem so bad out here. Go on&mdash;don&#8217;t bother
+about me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After Hard had got his match and joined Scott
+again behind the bushes, Polly sat and listened to the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span>
+ominous sounds, her pleasant reflections quite at an
+end.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s how it always goes. You begin to feel
+comfortable and pleased with your philosophy and
+yourself and then reality comes along and swats you
+one in the eye. I will not think of those Indians! I&#8217;ll
+think of Bob and Emma. Wonder what kind of a
+nurse Emma makes? Not that she&#8217;ll have a chance to
+try, poor lamb. Those trained ones will shoo her off
+and flirt with Bob themselves.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was some time before the two men finished their
+ugly job. Polly saw them come out from behind the
+bushes and go into the house by the back door. She
+stretched herself sleepily&mdash;it was beginning to be a bit
+chilly, even when wrapped in a coat and a serape.
+Perhaps it would be wiser to go in. She folded the
+serape and started for the door, only to stop midway as
+Scott came out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I thought you&#8217;d all gone to bed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you know you ought to,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+blame you for not wanting to. Those mountains get
+one, don&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were standing exactly where they had stood so
+short a time ago, but so much had happened since that
+it seemed hours gone by. It wasn&#8217;t to be expected, the
+girl thought, that they could go on from where they
+had left off. She looked up. He was staring at the
+mountains. She felt a ridiculous mixture of relief and
+disappointment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They get me,&#8221; she answered. &#8220;I never knew I
+was so fond of mountains.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the mystery of them. You have the feeling
+that things are going on in and about them that you
+don&#8217;t know&mdash;that nobody&#8217;ll ever know. I remember
+the first time I climbed a big mountain&mdash;up in Colorado.
+When I was about three-quarters of the way up
+I looked down on one of those little mountain lakes&mdash;just
+as blue as that ring of yours&mdash;set in the brown of
+the mountain. It made me feel as if I&#8217;d struck gold.
+I couldn&#8217;t believe that anybody but the Indians and I
+had ever seen that lake.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott was leaning against the post of the veranda,
+still looking at the mountains. Suddenly he turned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Little girl, I think you&#8217;d better be going in and getting
+a few hours of sleep,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Four o&#8217;clock
+comes along awfully early in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly said nothing. She picked up the serape again
+and turned to go. Then she came back again, holding
+out her hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Scott, I haven&#8217;t said a word to show that I&#8217;m
+grateful for what you did to-night. You saved my
+life, didn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott took the hand and smiled down into the serious
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t go that far,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Those fellows
+who horned into our fight did that, I reckon. I sure
+tried to, though, if you&#8217;d like to shake hands on that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You risked your own life, anyhow, so please don&#8217;t
+spoil my story.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, put it that I&#8217;ll be delighted to save your life
+any time you say, even if I get my hide full of holes
+for doing it. How&#8217;s that?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right,&#8221; agreed Polly, heartily. &#8220;You
+may call me at twenty minutes of four, if you please,&#8221;
+and she disappeared into the house.</p>
+<p>Scott stood a moment after she was gone, an odd
+little smile on his lips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if she&#8217;d care&mdash;or would it be another case
+of Joyce Henderson?&#8221; he said. &#8220;Well, serve me
+right for a fool if it was!&#8221; He kicked a stick out of
+his way as he made for the wagon. &#8220;What have you
+got to offer a girl, anyhow?&#8221; He took a pocket torch
+out and examined the wheel of the wagon. &#8220;I&#8217;ve seen
+better looking wheels and then again I&#8217;ve seen worse,&#8221;
+he decided, pessimistically. &#8220;If our luck holds we&#8217;ll
+make it. Doggone it, being civilized makes an awful
+idiot of a man. I&#8217;m going to dream of those poor
+Yaquis we&#8217;ve just buried, sure as shoe leather.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Four o&#8217;clock does indeed come along early when you
+have not closed your eyes before midnight. It also
+comes along chilly and dark and generally uncomfortable.
+The women were awakened by Hard, who had
+to knock loudly on their door in order to accomplish it.
+They tumbled to their feet and performed the necessary
+dressing operations in the dark, except for a candle
+which Clara lighted cautiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And to think that people once lived by candlelight!&#8221;
+murmured Polly, sleepily. &#8220;Were born, married,
+and finally died by it. Well, the race has come
+up a peg, I&#8217;ll say that for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Conrad was ready first. She was very rapid,
+in a quiet, unhurried fashion. In her corduroy skirt
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span>
+and jacket, she looked very girlish. Polly mentally
+took five years off her estimate of her new acquaintance&#8217;s
+age.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Awfully natural looking woman, too,&#8221; she commented,
+silently. &#8220;Most of the pretty women I know
+at home are always doing things to themselves&mdash;fussing
+over their looks; but she just seems to keep herself
+fresh and neat and let it go at that, and she manages to
+look young and handsome. As for me, I&#8217;m a rag and
+I look it, but perhaps as there are no tremendous beauties
+around, I&#8217;ll pass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She followed Mrs. Conrad into the kitchen, where
+she found her busy with Herrick over the breakfast.
+The pleasant odors of burning wood and boiling coffee
+had already made themselves noticed. Scott, in a corner
+of the kitchen, was working over the harness which
+he was getting into a condition possible for use. He
+looked up and nodded as Polly entered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your gentleman friend left a few things; we won&#8217;t
+have to starve on the road,&#8221; he said, drily. &#8220;There&#8217;s
+a side of bacon&mdash;wonder why he left that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps he didn&#8217;t see it,&#8221; suggested Polly,
+sweetly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess that&#8217;s the answer. There, I reckon that
+harness will take us as far as Athens, if we have a bit
+of luck. If you&#8217;ll bring out what you want to take,
+Mrs. Conrad, we&#8217;ll pack it in the wagon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve only a couple of suitcases. My trunks went
+by rail to the border&mdash;that is, they started.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How about you, Herrick? Afraid we can&#8217;t take
+the piano.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p>
+<p>Herrick looked up in some surprise. &#8220;Me?&#8221; he
+said. &#8220;I am not going with you, my friend.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not going with us? But, Victor, you can&#8217;t stay
+here alone.&#8221; Mrs. Conrad&#8217;s voice had real solicitude
+in it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not? Li will return and you shall send him
+first to Conejo to buy provisions. When things settle
+down, my men will come back and we shall go to work
+again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re going to stick by the ranch?&#8221; demanded
+Scott.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is my home. What else have I?&#8221; The little
+man&#8217;s voice was sad.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe you&#8217;re right,&#8221; said Scott, after a moment.
+&#8220;The best way to hang on to property just now
+is to sit down on it. We&#8217;ll send Li over to Conejo with
+the wagon and he can load up. If you get into trouble,
+remember you&#8217;ve got friends in this country.&#8221; And the
+two men shook hands heartily as Scott tramped off to
+the wagon.</p>
+<p>Polly did not see the parting between the musician
+and Clara Conrad, but the latter looked, when she came
+out of the house, as though she had been crying, and
+the little man looked more pathetic than ever as he
+stood alone in the doorway waving them good-bye.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think he ought to say there?&#8221; demanded
+Polly, as Scott helped her into the wagon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t, but he&#8217;s obstinate and you can&#8217;t move
+him once he makes up his mind. There&#8217;s a lot of the
+woman in every artistic man, I believe,&#8221; grunted Scott,
+disgustedly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></p>
+<p>A little later, with the two Athens horses hitched to
+the mountain wagon, the party started out, Hard driving.
+The road led out through the hills where the fighting
+had been only a few hours ago. There was no sign
+of what had happened. It was a poor road, narrow,
+rough and little used. There were ruts in it and
+chuck-holes, turns and an occasional arroyo. It was
+rather ghostly, too, driving at this hour; the chill, early
+morning feel of the air, the fading moon, the faint
+pinkness hanging over the mountains suggesting the
+coming dawn.</p>
+<p>&#8220;One thing you miss around here is the cattle,&#8221; said
+Scott. &#8220;Up in New Mexico you&#8217;d be starting out this
+time in the morning and you&#8217;d see the range cattle looking
+at you, sort of surprised to see folks around so
+early in the morning; some of &#8217;em still lying down and
+napping. Around here raising cattle hasn&#8217;t been very
+popular the last few years&mdash;too hazardous.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Polly, I want you to notice that funny little
+house over there,&#8221; said Hard, pointing to his right.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Indeed, there was reason for the question. The little
+cabin had been built tightly against a hill, with the
+hill scooped out to make the back part. A closer look
+revealed a burro standing on the roof beside the chimney.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s the first time I ever saw a burro on a
+roof!&#8221; declared Polly. &#8220;Who lives there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A Mexican family named Soria,&#8221; replied Hard.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll go over and see if they know anything about the
+fighting last night.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You won&#8217;t need to,&#8221; said Scott. &#8220;Here comes the
+whole population.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So it seemed. There was an old woman&mdash;very old,
+very thin and very brown; a younger one, half a dozen
+youngsters, several dogs and finally the burro. The
+family were clad in every sort of decrepit garment.
+Polly thought she had rarely seen so pitiful an assemblage;
+and yet they did not look particularly unhappy,
+except the younger woman, who hung back and seemed
+to have been crying. They had seen the wagon and
+had come out to find out what was going on. The
+older woman came directly to the wagon, while the
+younger one stood a little way off, a baby in her arms,
+and the other children hanging around her. She was
+rather a pretty woman, or would have been with half a
+chance. It is difficult to be pretty when your hair
+hangs in straggling locks, your too plump figure festoons
+itself around you in bags, and your clothes look
+as though you had never had them off since you first
+became acquainted with them. Poor things, they lead
+an awful life.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll let you speak to her, Clara,&#8221; Hard said, with a
+smile. &#8220;I think your Spanish is in better working
+order than mine. Ask after the daughter&#8217;s husband;
+he&#8217;s in the army and it may open the way for a little
+information.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Conrad spoke in rapid and soft-sounding Spanish
+to the old woman who stood listening, her wrinkled
+face set in the monotony of hopelessness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How beautifully she speaks Spanish!&#8221; thought
+Polly, enviously. &#8220;I don&#8217;t understand a word of it,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span>
+but even I can tell the difference between hers and the
+kind that both the men speak.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning, my friend.&#8221; Clara&#8217;s voice was
+cheerful and pleasant. &#8220;How is the family?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Badly, señora, very badly. My son Manuel joined
+the army last night and with him his wife and two little
+ones. Now we have no man in the house&mdash;we shall
+starve.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But your daughter&#8217;s husband?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Francisco was killed last week in a fight. The
+soldiers brought the news. Carlotta has four little
+ones now and no man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is very bad. I am sorry. What soldiers do
+you mean?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Last night. The soldiers who came from the
+north.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;D&#8217;you mean that the crowd that was fighting up
+here in the hills were soldiers?&#8221; broke in Scott,
+eagerly. &#8220;Federal soldiers?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no, the soldiers of the revolution&mdash;Sonora
+troops. They march south against Sinaloa.&#8221; Carlotta
+had crept nearer and was taking part in the conversation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t get you. Who was doing the fighting?&#8221;
+demanded Scott.</p>
+<p>The old woman burst into rapid speech, leaving Scott
+in the lurch immediately. Clara came to his rescue.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The poor old thing is more Indian than Mexican
+and she doesn&#8217;t talk very clearly,&#8221; she said. &#8220;She
+says that the party which came along the road last night
+was a regiment of cavalry from up north. They saw
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span>
+the barn burning and thought that the bandits were on
+the march; so they started over that way. They fell
+in with the stragglers of the Yaqui crowd and started
+to fight. As near as I can tell, each party seems to
+have thought that the other was Angel Gonzales&#8217; band.
+The Yaquis had been rooted out of their village by
+Gonzales and were on the warpath, poor creatures.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fortunately, there were a lot of Yaquis in the troop
+and by the time the fellows who were trying to loot us
+came along they began to understand the situation and
+the lot of them joined the troops. This old lady&#8217;s son,
+Manuel, joined too, and his wife and babies went
+along. That explains why they let us alone last night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It does,&#8221; said Scott. &#8220;And it shows that Angel is
+around somewhere bent on deviltry. Here, old lady, is
+something to buy chow for the babies for a few days&mdash;better
+luck to you!&#8221; He handed her some money and
+they drove away amid loud thanks and happy smiles.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What in the world do you mean by the wife and
+babies going, too?&#8221; demanded Polly, excitedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, here in Mexico war is a family affair,&#8221; replied
+Scott. &#8220;There&#8217;s no such thing as the girl I left
+behind me. The Missus goes along and so do the
+youngsters. She does most of the foraging for food
+on the march.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Mexican believes in equality of the sexes,&#8221; said
+Hard. &#8220;He believes that the woman has just as much
+right to do manual labor, to provide a living for the
+family, to fight, and to perform all the other unpleasant
+functions of living as he has. If there are not enough
+to go around, he generously allows her to do his share.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s great to be a wife in Mexico,&#8221; observed Scott,
+drily. &#8220;Think of that, Miss Polly, next time you meet
+a fascinating Spaniard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be disagreeable,&#8221; said Mrs. Conrad, &#8220;and
+don&#8217;t tell fibs. It&#8217;s the women of the lower classes
+who have the hard time down here just as they do in
+every country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Except the U. S. A.,&#8221; replied Scott, stoutly. &#8220;A
+woman may have hard luck in our country because
+she&#8217;s sick or poor or married to a no-account; but not
+because the general opinion of the female sex is so
+darned low that any loafer who comes along feels that
+he&#8217;s got a right to treat her as he pleases.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How you like to argue every point, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;
+observed Polly. &#8220;Were you born like that or did it
+grow on you? Oh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The &#8220;oh&#8221; was literally jolted out of her. Turning
+rather a sudden curve at a pretty good clip, the wagon
+slipped over the edge of a chuck-hole a little deeper
+than the ordinary. Happening as it did in just the
+right place, it caught the weakened wheel and
+wrenched it off as neatly and as suddenly as a dentist
+wrenches a tooth out of the jaw of an unwilling patient.</p>
+<p>There was a crash and a jar as the wagon sank on its
+side, and the frightened horses struggling to pull the
+dragging load, snapped the harness where Scott had
+patched it. The occupants were jumbled into the bottom
+of the wagon, except Hard, who was pitched out
+into the road. Scott was out in a minute and at the
+horses&#8217; heads; the women righted themselves just in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span>
+time to see Hard pull himself to his feet, staggering as
+he did so.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hurt, Henry?&#8221; asked Scott, who was trying to
+calm the horses.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, just bent my knee under me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here, hold these critturs while I pull the ladies
+out!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re all right&mdash;that is, I&#8217;m all right. Look after
+Mrs. Conrad,&#8221; said Polly, as Scott lifted her from the
+débris. &#8220;What was it? The wheel?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Conrad gladly availed herself of Scott&#8217;s ready
+arm. &#8220;What did Henry do?&#8221; she said. By this time,
+Scott was loosing the horses from the harness and
+Hard had hobbled over to the edge of the road, where
+he sat down.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s my bad knee,&#8221; he explained. &#8220;I did this once,
+only much worse, playing football in college. Fell,
+you know, with it doubled under me. I was laid up
+for six months.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Henry!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I shan&#8217;t be this time. It always lames me for
+a few hours, though, when I do anything to it. Knees
+are great chaps for bearing malice.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you certainly shan&#8217;t walk to Athens,&#8221; said
+Polly, with decision. &#8220;You must ride one horse and
+Mrs. Conrad the other, while Mr. Scott and I walk.
+I&#8217;d love to!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear child, you couldn&#8217;t,&#8221; exclaimed Clara.
+&#8220;Could you ride, Henry, do you think? You and
+Polly could ride to Athens and send somebody back for
+us with the other wagon.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I could,&#8221; said Hard, &#8220;but I&#8217;d rather not. I&#8217;d like
+to rest it for a couple of hours if I could. Scott, suppose
+you walk and let them ride and leave me here.
+There&#8217;s a shady-looking spot over in those cottonwoods
+and I&#8217;ll just rest there till I&#8217;m able to hobble back to the
+Soria place. You can send for me there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a trail just above here that goes over and
+strikes the one we came on about eight miles from
+Athens,&#8221; said Scott, doubtfully. &#8220;I&#8217;ve never traveled
+it, but Gomez told me about it last year. Rough, he
+said, but navigable. I guess that&#8217;s what we&#8217;d better do,
+Hard, leave you here and I&#8217;ll walk.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How far is it?&#8221; asked Mrs. Conrad.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, twenty miles, maybe. It cuts off a good deal.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You shan&#8217;t walk twenty miles on a rough trail, my
+dear man, if I can prevent it,&#8221; said Clara, firmly.
+&#8220;You and Polly must ride, and I&#8217;ll stay here with
+Henry. Now, please! I&#8217;m at home in this country
+and I&#8217;m not afraid.&#8221; There was a pause, then Scott
+said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess she&#8217;s right, Hard. They don&#8217;t either of
+&#8217;em ride well enough to tackle a strange trail alone,
+and if I walk it will delay sending back for you. One
+of us had better ride the trail with Polly, while the
+other stays at Soria&#8217;s with Mrs. Conrad.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a little more discussion it was decided that
+Scott and Polly should go, while the other two returned,
+after Hard had rested a bit, to the Soria place.
+Scott moved the suitcases which Clara had brought
+over to the little nook made by the cottonwoods, where
+they could be left until someone came with the Athens
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span>
+wagon, and helped Hard to hobble over there. Then,
+feeling rather as though they had deserted their
+friends, and yet not knowing what else to do, Scott and
+Polly rode away.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIV_THE_TRAIL' id='XIV_THE_TRAIL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h3>THE TRAIL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>In after years, Scott was wont to say that he distrusted
+the trail recommended by Gomez from the moment
+his horse started to travel it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was one of those trails that didn&#8217;t look right&mdash;from
+the first,&#8221; he would say with a reminiscent inflection.
+As a matter of fact, however, the trail looked
+innocent enough at the first glance, and Scott&#8217;s pessimism
+may be laid partly to the circumstances under
+which the trip was attempted and partly to the fact
+that Scott almost always hated to change his mind.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long will it be, do you suppose, before you
+can send back for the others?&#8221; queried Polly, as
+they rode away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, we ought to make Athens to-night,&#8221; replied
+Scott, thoughtfully. &#8220;Tom could start back with our
+wagon early in the morning. Cochise and this fellow
+I&#8217;m riding, Jasper, could make it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll have to stay at the Sorias&#8217; all night.
+They&#8217;ll be very uncomfortable.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I don&#8217;t know. They&#8217;re neither of them tenderfeet.
+They&#8217;ll get along.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be very romantic, of course, and very exciting,&#8221;
+sighed Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Romantic? Why?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, people have a way of making love to
+widows,&#8221; said Polly, wistfully. &#8220;And anybody with
+half an eye can see that he likes her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shucks! Hard&#8217;s a gentleman; he won&#8217;t think he
+has to be rude to a woman just because he&#8217;s left alone
+with her overnight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t being rude to ask a woman to marry you if
+you happen to like her, is it?&#8221; demanded Polly, with
+spirit.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is, under some circumstances,&#8221; replied Scott,
+shortly. &#8220;You&#8217;re pretty romantic, aren&#8217;t you, for a
+grown-up girl?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I? Not at all.&#8221; Polly flushed, indignantly. &#8220;But
+I&#8217;m interested when I see two people that I like falling
+nicely in love with each other.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s not in love with him or she&#8217;d have married
+him when she had the chance,&#8221; said Scott, authoritatively.
+&#8220;She&#8217;s an ambitious woman; what does she
+want of a man buried in a coal mine?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She may have changed. That was a long time
+ago,&#8221; ventured the girl. &#8220;And if she cares for him,
+she might forget her ambition. Women do, sometimes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, in books they do,&#8221; replied Scott, moodily.
+&#8220;But I never saw a woman in her class give up anything
+she really wanted just to marry a poor man. If
+she did, she&#8217;d probably make him miserable afterward,
+when she was sorry she&#8217;d done it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They rode a while in silence. Polly was hurt and
+angry. It occurred to her that Scott&#8217;s objection to her
+romantic imaginings was based on something deeper
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span>
+than just his usual argumentativeness. Perhaps her
+imagination had misled her in regard to what had been
+in his eyes the night before. Or rather, not her imagination,
+but her vanity. It was a disagreeable
+thought for one who had promised herself to have done
+forever with that unpleasant trait. Also, down underneath,
+there was a hurt that had nothing to do with
+vanity.</p>
+<p>Scott rode silently, occupied with his thoughts. He
+glanced now and then, however, at the slender figure
+of the girl who rode beside him. She was very pleasing
+to look upon, with her curly, reddish hair, big dark
+eyes, delicate features, and smooth tanned skin. Her
+white hat was pulled down to shade her eyes; her
+brown coat, trousers and boots wore a jaunty appearance;
+but it was not altogether of appearances that
+Scott was thinking.</p>
+<p>It is possible with some of us to view the outward
+and the inward at the same time and to render quite
+unrelated verdicts. Scott had been conscious of doing
+this before with Polly Street, but of late somehow the
+verdicts had begun to agree. He was finding the inward
+Polly quite as attractive as the outward. Had
+she changed or had he learned to look deeper, he wondered?
+He had thought her spoiled and superficial,
+yet possessing undoubtedly worth-while qualities, such
+as pluck and honesty&mdash;things you cannot be deceived
+in.</p>
+<p>Now he was finding another side to the girl; a something
+very sweet and lovable. Was he being led away
+by the eye of man which is troubled by many things, or
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span>
+was the better side of the girl coming to the surface under
+different conditions? Was she beginning to care
+a little for him or was she playing with him as she
+probably had done with the Henderson boy? Scott set
+his teeth grimly.</p>
+<p>There are after all two great classes into which humanity
+may be divided; those who are living purposefully,
+in the higher sense of the word, and those who
+are drifting. The purposeful people may and often do
+go wrong, but they have at least something to come
+back to when they right themselves. The drifters, on
+the other hand, are not only without help for themselves,
+but have a dreadful way of clutching at the
+purposeful ones and submerging them as well. The
+average man or woman who belongs to the former
+class has rather a horror of the drifter and likes to
+give him a wide berth. Something of this nature had
+passed through Scott&#8217;s head more than once when he
+had been attracted by a woman whose outer and inner
+trappings did not correspond.</p>
+<p>It was so easy, however, to like this auburn-headed
+youngster, who seemed to have gotten over her anger
+against him and to be beginning to like him. She had
+such a warm, quick smile; such a caressing look in
+those serious eyes. She was so natural and easy with
+him; turned to him so quickly for his approval of what
+she said or did and took his uncouth criticism so
+sweetly. It was flattering&mdash;yes, that was just the
+point. Was she sincere, or was she planning to add
+him to the list of her victims? She would not do that.
+He was no boy, to be petted and thrown aside.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></p>
+<p>About this time, they came upon the trail. The little
+river had followed the road for about a mile and a half,
+when across on its other bank Scott saw a deep rut
+leading out of it and continuing in a narrow line or
+trail so faint as to be easily overlooked. It wound
+along, lost itself in some chaparral and doubtless became
+clear again beyond. The chaparral being on a
+little rise, one could not see beyond it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There we are,&#8221; he called to the girl, who had fallen
+a little behind. &#8220;Wait a bit till I find a place to get
+down the bank on this side.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly waited. Scott rode up and down the bank;
+finally he stopped.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll have to cross here,&#8221; he called. &#8220;It&#8217;s steep
+but it&#8217;s all right. Follow me,&#8221; and both he and his
+horse disappeared in the river bed. Polly rode up and
+took a look at the descent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t go so far as to say that he picked a nasty
+one because he&#8217;s out of temper, but it looks like it,&#8221;
+she grumbled. &#8220;Go on, pony, if he can do it I suppose
+we can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The pony put her two forefeet over the edge of the
+descent and clung to solidity and sanity with her hind
+two.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t blame you. It&#8217;s what I&#8217;d do if I had four
+legs and some fool tried to make me slide down a
+precipice. But we&#8217;ve got to go. That man&#8217;s got a
+jaw like Napoleon and there&#8217;s no use arguing with
+him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She looked down. Scott had reached the bottom
+and was smiling back at her. One had to admit that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span>
+he had the sort of smile which warmed up the atmosphere.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Want me to come and lead her?&#8221; he offered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not.&#8221; Polly gave her mount a little dig with
+her heel, the tension on the hind legs relaxed, a series
+of slides and jolts and the descent was made. She
+found herself in the river with Scott while the horses
+drank thirstily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was the only place to come down,&#8221; he said, penitently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I wasn&#8217;t scared, it was the horse,&#8221; replied
+Polly, briefly. &#8220;You needn&#8217;t think that every time we
+hang back it&#8217;s my fault.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve known times when it was a sign of good sense
+to be scared,&#8221; retorted Scott, as he turned his horse&#8217;s
+nose toward the upward climb.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That man can use up more good gray matter trying
+to dodge paying one a compliment than most men use
+in thinking up one,&#8221; decided Polly.</p>
+<p>The way through the chaparral was trying. The
+trail was very faint, the stiff brush hit one in the face
+and almost tore one&#8217;s clothing. It was necessary for
+Scott to go first in order to keep the trail, while the
+girl fell considerably into the rear to escape the blows
+from the brush which flew back after he had disturbed
+it. On either side of them, above the brush, rose
+walls formed by foothills, growing higher as they went.
+They were evidently going directly into the mountains.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course, we crossed two ranges when we came
+from Athens to Casa Grande,&#8221; reasoned Polly, &#8220;and
+we&#8217;ve got to cross them again going back. But this
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span>
+doesn&#8217;t look as though we were going through any gaps
+as we did on the other trail. We&#8217;re evidently going
+straight up. It&#8217;s going to be hard on the horses.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It <i>was</i> hard on the horses. It was getting on in the
+afternoon and the sun was still very hot. They had
+seen no water since leaving the little river. The trail
+had come out of the brush and become a narrow&mdash;a
+very narrow ledge on the side of the mountain, while
+on the other side one looked down into a ravine deep
+enough to make one&#8217;s head swim if one looked too long.
+Scott ploughed along ahead, looking back whenever the
+trail showed a nasty place, ready to jump off and go
+to the girl&#8217;s rescue if necessary.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s a plucky one all right,&#8221; he said to himself.
+&#8220;This is no trail for a tenderfoot. I hope we don&#8217;t
+run into anything worse before we get through. How
+are you coming?&#8221; he called back.</p>
+<p>They had come to a turn in the trail. Huge boulders
+poised on the edge of the narrow ledge with that utter
+disregard for gravity displayed now and then by rocks
+which look big enough to know better. Scott had dismounted
+and stood looking into the ravine which had
+widened into a valley. In front of him, on the narrow
+turn, it seemed but a step to the tree-tops of the valley
+below. Further ahead, lay the next range of mountains,
+higher than the ones through which they were
+passing. Back of them, the winding trail seemed to
+flutter like a brown ribbon. Polly hopped down and
+joined him. Together they drank in the scene.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s too lovely. It hurts,&#8221; said the girl, with wet
+eyes.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t it? I didn&#8217;t know myself that there was
+anything around here like this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s worth being raided for,&#8221; replied Polly. &#8220;Let&#8217;s
+stay here a while and keep on looking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott smiled. &#8220;Will it spoil it for you if I eat a
+sandwich?&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not if there&#8217;s one for me, too,&#8221; laughed the
+girl. &#8220;But I thought you left all the lunch with the
+others.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not all. I&#8217;m too good a woodsman to go on a
+strange trail with nothing to eat in my saddle-bag.
+Luckily I didn&#8217;t have to leave them the canteen.&#8221;
+They ate the sandwiches&mdash;saving a portion for dinner
+in case they were late reaching Athens&mdash;and washed
+them down with warm water from the canteen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s look around the corner before we mount
+again,&#8221; suggested the girl. &#8220;I like to know what&#8217;s
+ahead of me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Around the corner&#8221; was a slope down into the
+ravine, more gradual than before and green with
+stunted grass and mesquite. Here and there a cactus
+rose gauntly, some in the tall Spanish bayonet with its
+lovely bloom, and some in the low, dagger-like plant
+close to the ground. Above them, on the right side
+rose the rocky wall of the mountain, not altogether
+sheer in its ascent, but curving in and then out at the
+top, the upper ridge forming a shelf. Mesquite grew
+seemingly out of the solid rock.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, look,&#8221; exclaimed the girl. &#8220;There&#8217;s almost
+a little cave up there under that shelf! It could be a
+rustler&#8217;s cave if there were any rustlers around.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;There are more rustlers than there are things to
+rustle,&#8221; remarked her companion.</p>
+<p>Standing on the narrow trail, they looked over and
+down into the valley. It was lonely to look at; not a
+house, not a living creature, and yet so very beautiful&mdash;with
+a warmth of color and sunshine. Polly did not
+speak. Her eyes were fixed on the scene below. She
+did not see the look on Scott&#8217;s face as he stood beside
+her, gazing not at the valley but at the purity of her
+face so near his shoulder.</p>
+<p>It was very still. Suddenly a bird flew from one
+of the bushes, flew across the rock in front of their
+faces. Polly, her thought broken, turned quickly and
+surprised the hungry look in Scott&#8217;s eyes. Her face
+flushed and neither spoke. Then, impulsively, he took
+her in his arms and kissed her passionately, Polly, sobbing,
+clinging to him in a silence full of meaning. As
+suddenly Scott put her away from him, holding her
+and looking into her eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean it?&#8221; he demanded almost angrily.
+&#8220;You&#8217;re not playing with me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly did not answer. She looked up into his eyes,
+her own still wet. He took her in his arms again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see why!&#8221; he said, softly. &#8220;There&#8217;s nothing
+about me for you to fall in love with. Are you
+sure?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very sure,&#8221; she lifted her head. &#8220;I was sure last
+night, when you nearly told me&mdash;before those Indians
+came. Why didn&#8217;t you want to tell me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I knew I&#8217;d no business to,&#8221; replied Scott,
+roughly. &#8220;I&#8217;ve no business to, now, but I&#8217;m human
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span>
+and when you stood there with the sun on your hair,
+and that look on your face, I fell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll stand that way again,&#8221; smiled Polly, &#8220;if you&#8217;ll
+stop scowling and say nice things to me. It isn&#8217;t a
+criminal offense, Marc Scott, for an unmarried man to
+fall in love with me. Don&#8217;t feel so badly about it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It may not be criminal, but it&#8217;s not square,&#8221; replied
+Scott, obstinately. &#8220;With you a rich man&#8217;s daughter,
+and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But not an heiress, remember! That makes a difference,&#8221;
+she said, coaxingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps&mdash;anyhow, I&#8217;m glad you&#8217;re not rich,&#8221; said
+Scott, soberly. &#8220;I think I&#8217;d fight with a rich wife.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear Marc, you and I would fight, no matter
+who had the money. We&#8217;re the scrappy kind. But,
+on the other hand, we&#8217;ll always make up again, and
+that&#8217;s what counts. That&#8217;s what Joyce Henderson and
+I couldn&#8217;t do. We went for months and months without
+a quarrel, but when we once had one we couldn&#8217;t
+get over it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re sure you&#8217;ve forgotten about that chap?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite. He doesn&#8217;t exist.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again they were silent, the sun picking out radiant
+bits of Polly&#8217;s hair to light upon as she stood leaning
+against Scott&#8217;s arm, his rough coat rubbing her soft
+skin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a nice old world,&#8221; she said, drawing a long
+breath.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s good enough for me,&#8221; he answered as he leaned
+over and kissed her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know, I&#8217;ve been wondering for a week
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span>
+whether it was me or Mrs. Van Zandt that you were
+in love with?&#8221; said Polly, with one of her sudden
+smiles.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me? Care for&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Scott&#8217;s voice died away in
+surprise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You behaved as though you did. You are always
+so gentle and pleasant with her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m gentle and pleasant with everybody,&#8221; declared
+Scott, stoutly. &#8220;I have that kind of disposition.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think you&#8217;d better go and get the horses,&#8221; suggested
+Polly. &#8220;I&#8217;d rather not begin disagreeing with
+you just yet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott, chuckling, went back after the horses. Polly,
+left alone, sat down on a stone and gave a little sigh
+of contentment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To think,&#8221; she said, incredulously, &#8220;that once I
+thought I was in love with Joyce Henderson!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Polly!&#8221; Scott&#8217;s voice was sharp. He came
+around the turn on a trot. &#8220;Those cussed horses
+have cleared out and left us high and dry. I&#8217;ve got to
+go after them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;I thought horses always went home when
+they ran off!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think they&#8217;ve gone down into the canyon&mdash;there
+may be water down there. Will you sit here while I
+go after them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so,&#8221; forlornly. &#8220;You won&#8217;t stay
+long?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be back in half an hour.&#8221; Scott disappeared down
+the trail. Polly watched him a moment or two and
+then returned to her resting place. Something of the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span>
+happiness was gone from her eyes. The accident was
+ill-timed. It brought a feeling of foreboding most disagreeable
+in its contrast with her former exaltation.
+She jumped to her feet determined to do something to
+take her mind off the ugly thought.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll climb up and see if that really is a cave up
+there,&#8221; she thought. Fired by this ambition, she
+started to work her way up the cliff; no easy task and
+ruinous to riding boots of soft leather. By the time
+she had discovered this last fact she had covered about
+one-third of the distance and was crouching beside a
+protruding rock to get her breath. &#8220;It&#8217;s rather foolish
+to tear up a perfectly good pair of riding boots just at
+the psychological moment when leather is villainously
+high and I&#8217;m on the verge of marrying a poor man. I
+guess I&#8217;ll give up the cave.&#8221;</p>
+<p>If the view had been remarkable from the trail, it
+was marvelous from the little eminence which she had
+reached. She looked and looked, her eyes full of
+wonder. Away in the distance, a tiny stream fluttered
+its way over the brown side of the mountain, which
+the sun seemed to polish until it shone; while on the
+shadowed side, the pines took on a dark, heavy green,
+both sombre and beautiful. Below her, on the trail&mdash;but
+what was that? Coming over the top of a hilly
+rise, a little way below, was a man on a horse&mdash;then a
+second and a third, and finally a line of riders, so long
+a line that it suggested a regiment!</p>
+<p>Polly&#8217;s mind worked quickly. There was but one
+explanation; Angel Gonzales was in the neighborhood,
+was on his way to rendezvous with Juan Pachuca, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
+without doubt this was Angel Gonzales, and these
+were his men. What should she do? They were coming
+very rapidly, and whatever was done would have to
+be done instantly. Her first thought was for Scott.
+He would be taken unaware. If she could only get to
+him&mdash;warn him&mdash;so that he could hide in the brush till
+the men had passed! Breathlessly, she began to climb
+down the cliff. She was badly frightened, her nerve
+was shaken and her strength seemed to be leaving
+her. She found herself slipping and sliding on the
+rock.</p>
+<p>Another look at the riders showed them very near&mdash;so
+near that her courage failed her. In a panic she began
+to climb again. She must reach the little cave before
+they saw her. She could not fall into the hands
+of Angel Gonzales. She caught her breath in little
+sobs, her heart seemed about to burst, every foot gained
+meant a desperate effort. She clutched at the tufts of
+mesquite that grew out of the rock and thanked Providence
+that her brown suit was so nearly the color of
+the cliff. Gasping and sobbing, she finally sank behind
+the mesquite bush which covered the cave.</p>
+<p>It was not really a cave, she discovered, but merely
+a crevice in the cliff, made into a little shelf by the
+rock which protruded above it, while the bush growing
+thickly in front of it gave it the look of a cave. It
+was, however, a shelter, and Polly crouched in it
+thankfully, breathing with difficulty and keeping one
+eye on the line of men filing along below her. They
+were a hard looking lot, clad in all sorts of clothes
+from uniforms to overalls. They seemed to her inexperienced
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span>
+eye innumerable; they were, perhaps, seventy-five
+or a hundred.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And poor&mdash;like an army of tramps,&#8221; she thought.
+&#8220;Very desperate tramps&mdash;oh, why didn&#8217;t I keep on
+and try to warn Marc?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She could not understand her panic, now that her
+own danger was over and the men had passed. Marc
+Scott had called her a brave girl, and she had saved her
+own skin and let him walk into the trap. She sobbed
+bitterly. If there was only anything that she could
+do! To sit there in that awful silence was more than
+she could bear. She could no longer see the riders,
+who had turned the curve and were out of sight and
+sound. Far off in the distance two buzzards circled
+about over something that was dead or dying. Perhaps
+it was a man&mdash;at the thought the girl rose unsteadily
+to her feet. She could not stay alone another
+moment in this horrible place; she would go and find
+Scott, if she had to brave Angel Gonzales to do it.
+With a recklessness born of desperation she slid and
+scuffled down the side of the cliff and ran blindly down
+the trail.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XV_ANGEL' id='XV_ANGEL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h3>ANGEL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Scott, starting breezily down the trail after the recreant
+horses, whistled a tune as he went, for he was
+happy. He did not weigh reason against happiness&mdash;it
+was too soon for that. He would have given you,
+however, if pressed, a number of very good reasons
+why he and Polly Street were going to be happy together,
+in spite of their different upbringing, and his
+own not very lucid reasons for not having wanted to
+marry her.</p>
+<p>Just at present he was occupied with the idea of the
+horses. He felt that they would not be apt to go back
+on the trail unless it was to look for water, and water
+they might find at the bottom of the ravine though the
+underbrush was too dense for him to see it. He could
+follow their trail very easily in the sandy path but he
+walked a quarter of a mile before he found the place
+where they had struck out of the trail for the bottom
+of the ravine.</p>
+<p>Very cautiously he started down, for the going was
+decidedly bad and he had no wish to risk a fall. He
+trailed the prints, marveling at the sure-footedness of
+the animal which can follow so hazardous a path.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t dare put a horse down a trail like this,&#8221;
+he mused with a grin, &#8220;and yet the rascals will go
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span>
+down by themselves as smooth as silk. Hullo, I
+guessed right! There is water down here. There&#8217;s
+old Jasper filling up on it, and the mare, too. Well,
+I guess we don&#8217;t walk home this trip.&#8221; And just as
+Polly, some hundreds of feet above him was trying
+madly to reach the cave, Scott, quite oblivious of impending
+danger, started on his difficult climb, leading
+the two horses.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Serve you darn well right, you fellows, if I was to
+make you haul me,&#8221; he said, as Jasper&#8217;s soft nose
+rubbed against his shoulder. &#8220;I would, too, if I didn&#8217;t
+think you&#8217;d slide down and break my neck just when
+my girl needs me. Come on, you grafters, shake a
+leg, will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was a bad climb. The perspiration rolled off
+Scott&#8217;s face and the veins stood out upon his forehead.
+Gasping for breath, he dug his toes into the soft earth
+and plugged ahead, pulling the reluctant animals after
+him. He had nearly gained the top, was within
+twenty feet, perhaps, of the end of the climb, when
+Jasper began to pull back. They were breaking
+through some brush, Scott being nearly through when
+Jasper began pulling. Scott gave the bridle an irritated
+jerk and spoke sharply to the horse. As he did
+so, he looked up and saw Angel Gonzales and his band
+coming down the trail. For a second, Scott lost his
+wits. He took a quick step forward, giving the bridle
+another jerk as he did so. Jasper, naturally aggrieved,
+pulled back again, and Scott, standing on a
+loose bit of rock, slipped, tried to right himself, slipped
+again, overbalanced, fell and rolled down&mdash;over boulders,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span>
+through brush, falling ever faster as he tried to
+regain a foothold.</p>
+<p>Both bridles had been wrenched from his hand as he
+fell and the horses, half scared, half inquisitive, followed
+him a few steps and then returned to the
+munching of grass, behind the clump of brush.</p>
+<p>Angel Gonzales, a large, brutal-looking man, his face
+covered with a black beard, his clothes bearing the
+mark of many a scuffle, swung down the trail in the
+lead, his particular crony, one Porfirio Cortes, riding
+immediately after him. A little distance intervened
+between Cortes and the other members of the party.
+Even in bandit circles the line is drawn somewhere,
+and in Angel&#8217;s band it was drawn immediately after
+Porfirio Cortes.</p>
+<p>Angel rode, one leg thrown over his pommel, which
+enabled him to chat comfortably with Cortes. They
+were talking of Juan Pachuca.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A slippery one, that,&#8221; Cortes had remarked, keenly.
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe he means to throw in his lot with us.
+When I see him do it, I will believe&mdash;not before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not? I have more men than he has. He
+needs men. All he has is this understanding that he
+brags of with the new government.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lies, <i>amigo</i>, lies! His record with Carranza is
+against him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, all men lie,&#8221; replied Angel, tersely, and with
+probably no intention of plagiarism. &#8220;Anyhow, we
+can do some good fighting together. There will be
+some fine pickings when we get the old man out of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span>
+Mexico City. Think of the money, the fine clothes,
+the women!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I think of them,&#8221; replied Cortes, meditatively.
+&#8220;But I think also of Obregon. I hate that man. He
+hung a cousin of mine, once, for less than what you
+and I did to those Yaquis. Also, he has persecuted
+Villa.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, so will I persecute Villa if I ever get a
+chance,&#8221; replied Angel, cheerfully. &#8220;The fat thief!
+Think of the gold he has hidden in these mountains!
+Hold&mdash;what is that? Down in the canyon? Horses!
+Is it troops, do you think?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Troops&mdash;in a hole like that? It might be those Indians&mdash;an
+ambush!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would be like the devils. I don&#8217;t see them
+now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You saw Soria&#8217;s burro, most likely. Your nerves
+are bad, as the gringos say.&#8221; Both men grinned and
+rode on. Suddenly, they heard a crashing sound of
+scattering stones that rose even above the noise made
+by their horses. Angel threw up his head in alarm,
+very much as a horse does when he scents danger.
+&#8220;It is the Indians,&#8221; he said to Porfirio. &#8220;We must
+not be attacked in this narrow place. Forward! Ride!
+The Yaquis are upon us!&#8221; he cried, driving the spurs
+into his horse. He was followed by Cortes, who in
+turn was followed by the others. The entire band
+gave a vivid moving picture of a reckless run down a
+narrow trail, by a hundred men, any one of whom
+would have considered it utter madness had he been
+alone.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></p>
+<p>Marc Scott, stopped by a mesquite bush near the
+bottom of the canyon, lay for a few moments where
+he had fallen, literally too shaken to move. When he
+realized what had happened to him, he crawled to his
+feet and listened. All was still. The sounds from
+above had ceased, and a cloud of dust hovering over
+the trail was the only evidence that he had not imagined
+the passing of a crowd of men.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By golly, I believe they didn&#8217;t hear me after all!&#8221;
+he gasped. Then the thought came to him of Polly&mdash;alone
+on the trail above him. A sickening fear shook
+him; how could she possibly have escaped those men?
+In a blind fury he started to climb the ravine. It had
+been hard going before&mdash;now, in spite of his body, stiff
+and shaken, he did not feel the effort. His face was
+purple with heat and exertion, his hands were bloody
+with the cactus he had clutched when falling, but his
+terror for the girl dwarfed all physical discomfort.
+Panting and choking, he forged ahead. If he could
+only reach Jasper he would follow that cloud of dust
+until he knew what had happened to the woman he
+loved.</p>
+<p>Jasper and the mare, uninfluenced by motives either
+of fear or anger, still grazed by the clump of brush
+and allowed the almost exhausted Scott to lead them
+back to the trail. He mounted Jasper, and turned the
+mare loose. He started down the trail after the vanished
+band at a pace quite as reckless as their own.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Marc! Marc Scott!&#8221; Polly&#8217;s voice rose desperately
+as she saw him disappearing down the trail.
+&#8220;Come back here!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></p>
+<p>Scott turned, bewildered, to see Polly running wildly
+toward him. She flung herself upon him and upon
+Jasper before he could dismount, pouring out the story
+of the men who had gone down the trail.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the worst of it was,&#8221; she wept, stormily, &#8220;that
+I didn&#8217;t even try to warn you. I just made for that
+cave and hid myself. That&#8217;s the sort of a girl I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you, honey? Do you know, that strikes me as
+mighty sensible? I don&#8217;t hold much with girls saving
+men&#8217;s lives outside the movies, where they&#8217;re well
+paid for it. It strikes me life-saving is a man-sized
+job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you&#8217;re all scratched! What in the
+world&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had to roll down the hill to dodge &#8217;em,&#8221; chuckled
+Scott, as he caught the mare and helped the girl to
+mount her. &#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you about it after a while; just
+now I think we&#8217;d better be on our way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They rode on in silence, back over the trail and
+around the curve past the imitation cave which had
+sheltered Polly. Scott eyed the horses with inward
+pessimism.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re never going to make it,&#8221; he thought.
+&#8220;They&#8217;re about all in now. Wish I knew whether to
+camp out and go on in the morning or to keep on
+pushing. If I was alone I&#8217;d bed down for the night
+but I hate to ask her to spend a night in the open
+unless I have to. Well, we&#8217;ll go on a while.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They rode on, the tired horses going more and more
+slowly and responding less and less readily to urging.
+The trail did not go all the way down into the canyon,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span>
+but met a rocky ledge which crossed it like a natural
+bridge. It was narrow and it was slippery with loose
+stones, but the girl took it silently. She was too tired
+and hungry to be afraid. The two sandwiches seemed
+things belonging to another life. She tried to smile
+when Scott looked back at her but it was hard
+work.</p>
+<p>They came off the ledge onto the side of a hill which
+formed a part of the second range of mountains. The
+spot, green as a deer park, was directly on the side of
+the hill, about half-way up. Around it were trees&mdash;pines
+and live oaks. The trail seemed to have disappeared
+altogether. Scott had dismounted and was
+waiting for the girl to come up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; she demanded, anxiously.</p>
+<p>He dropped his horse&#8217;s bridle and came to her side.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve a question for you, best girl,&#8221; he said, his hand
+on the pommel of her saddle, &#8220;These horses are
+hardly fit to climb this next range. They might do it
+and make the rest of the trip to-day if we urged them
+but it ain&#8217;t a square deal. Then, too, it would be dark
+before we got there.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is a place where we could stay. There&#8217;s pasture
+for the horses and I think that little stream that
+I found down in the canyon starts from up here somewhere.
+If we go on we may make it and again we
+may get tangled up in the mountains after dark, which
+I don&#8217;t fancy. I&#8217;m no forest ranger, you know. Shall
+we stay here till three or four o&#8217;clock in the morning
+or shall we plug ahead? It&#8217;s up to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly turned an appalled face toward him. &#8220;But,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span>
+Marc, you don&#8217;t mean to stay here&mdash;in this place&mdash;all
+night?&#8221; she said, faintly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it won&#8217;t be exactly all night. It&#8217;s nearly five
+o&#8217;clock now and we could start at daybreak.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;why, we haven&#8217;t anything to stop with! No
+tent and no blankets and nothing to eat! It would be
+rather dreadful, wouldn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, not dreadful, exactly. We&#8217;ve the blankets
+under our saddles, and you have your long cloak. I&#8217;ll
+build you a fire. Of course there&#8217;s nothing to eat except
+the rest of the sandwiches.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, perhaps&mdash;it would be pretty bad to get lost
+up here after dark. There might be mountain lions or
+mad skunks. They do have mad skunks out here,
+don&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott chuckled. &#8220;Search me, honey, all the
+skunks I ever met were mad. Come on down and
+we&#8217;ll have a look at the country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Marc,&#8221; Polly looked down at him, her eyes soft,
+&#8220;I&#8217;m wondering what I would have done if those
+bandits had gobbled you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t let bandits gobble me when I&#8217;m escorting
+ladies,&#8221; replied Scott. Then meeting her eyes, the
+twinkle faded out of his. &#8220;You&#8217;d better say what
+would I have done if you hadn&#8217;t hidden in that cave.&#8221;
+His head rested for a moment against her knee.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. Seems as though things were being
+managed for us, doesn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He lifted her to her feet and she looked around her
+curiously.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a pretty place,&#8221; she pronounced. &#8220;I hope
+you&#8217;re right about the water. I saw a little stream
+way up in the mountains when I climbed to the cave.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to let Jasper find it for me,&#8221; replied
+Scott. He had the saddles off the tired horses in a
+few seconds and they lay down and rolled happily,
+drying their sweaty backs in the dust. When they got
+to their feet again, he took the two long ropes from
+the saddles and fastened them around the horses&#8217;
+necks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to tie them up?&#8221; demanded the
+girl.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not now. Going to let them drag the ropes
+around. I can catch &#8217;em easy that way. Guess
+they&#8217;re too tired to go far.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The horses had smelled the water and made for it.
+It ran in a trickling little stream down the hillside about
+a dozen feet away, hidden by some brush. Once refreshed,
+they were easily led back and began to feed
+on the coarse grass. Scott shook out the blankets.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re a bit horsey,&#8221; he admitted, &#8220;but they&#8217;ll
+keep you warm. I put them under the saddles instead
+of the regular saddle blankets because I&#8217;ve been caught
+out this way before. A man learns things in this country.&#8221;
+He handed Polly her long coat and she slipped
+into it. &#8220;This isn&#8217;t exactly the time of year I&#8217;d pick
+for a camping trip,&#8221; he added, &#8220;but we&#8217;ll do, I reckon.
+Do you want to eat the sandwiches now, or do you prefer
+dinner at six?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly eyed the two big sandwiches with a serious
+eye. &#8220;Let&#8217;s look at them a while first,&#8221; she said,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span>
+hungrily. &#8220;Isn&#8217;t there any way of getting anything
+else? Can&#8217;t you shoot something?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see anything but you and me and the
+horses. What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; For the girl had given
+a shriek of joy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In my coat pocket! A cake of chocolate that Mrs.
+Van put there&mdash;and the sugar. I always bring it for
+the horses. We&#8217;ll keep the chocolate for breakfast,
+shall we?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They ate the sandwiches and topped off with the
+sugar. &#8220;Which,&#8221; said Polly, seriously, &#8220;is very
+strengthening. I&#8217;ve heard that they feed it to the
+Japanese army.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;ve heard that, too,&#8221; assented Scott, &#8220;but I
+reckon that&#8217;s not all they feed &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s not all you&#8217;ve been fed, either, so don&#8217;t
+grumble,&#8221; said the lady, practically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think,&#8221; said Scott, rising, &#8220;that before it grows
+dark I&#8217;ll investigate this trail a bit. It looks sort of
+blind to me. If we have to start by moonlight
+it&#8217;ll be just as well to have some notion of where to
+begin.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly leaned back against a tree and watched him
+lazily. He looked very strong and capable. She recalled
+Joyce Henderson&#8217;s graceful proportions and
+smiled. She had had to come a long way to find the
+man she wanted but she was well content. It was odd,
+she reflected, that she and Joyce Henderson, who had
+known each other all their lives, were like strangers
+once they attempted the more intimate relation; while
+for this man whom she had known but a few weeks she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span>
+felt a sense of familiarity, of belongingness, that she
+could scarcely believe. She was trusting him now in
+a way that she had never imagined herself trusting any
+man and yet she felt at ease.</p>
+<p>Scott, returning, threw himself down beside her.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve found the trail,&#8221; he said, &#8220;but we&#8217;ve got some
+traveling ahead of us. Don&#8217;t look to me as if anybody&#8217;d
+been over it since Gomez was.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t those men come this way?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. They must have hit the trail lower down&mdash;from
+some place we&#8217;ve missed. I&#8217;ll swear no crowd
+like that have been where I&#8217;ve just been.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl looked at him gravely. &#8220;Do you think we
+ought to go back?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Back? No, I don&#8217;t. Those folks are waiting for
+us at Soria&#8217;s and I want to get Tom started for them
+as soon as I can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if those men will make any trouble at
+Soria&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe so. If it was Angel Gonzales, he&#8217;s
+heading for your gentleman friend&#8217;s place and he&#8217;ll be
+in a hurry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why do you go on calling him my gentleman
+friend?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you think he&#8217;s some kind of a guy, don&#8217;t
+you?&#8221; demanded Scott, with a grin. &#8220;Pretty manners,
+soft voice, nice long eyelashes&mdash;all that kind of
+thing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I do,&#8221; replied Polly, stoutly. &#8220;I like Juan
+Pachuca and I believe he&#8217;s been led away by bad
+company. I believe what he told me about that treasure,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span>
+too. I only wish I&#8217;d made him tell me the name
+of the border town where it was.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Women are queer,&#8221; remarked Scott, with more
+truth than originality. &#8220;Well, Polly Street, I think
+I&#8217;ll gather the wood for your fire.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Together they gathered the loose twigs and branches&mdash;they
+were not many, but eked out with pine cones
+would make a fire for a few hours, and Scott made
+Polly&#8217;s bed close by it. He put his rubber poncho on
+the ground and made the girl wrap herself in both
+blankets.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got a heavy sweater under my coat,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;and I&#8217;ll have to keep moving a good deal to look
+after the horses and keep the fire going.&#8221; And he refused
+to take a blanket, much to Polly&#8217;s dismay.
+&#8220;Curl up and be comfortable, girlie, and relax. It
+don&#8217;t matter if you don&#8217;t sleep if you can relax.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly tried to comply, but she was too much interested
+in what was going on around her to give up
+either to sleep or to relaxation. The crackling of the
+fire and its wonderful odor, the little hushing noises
+of the birds going to rest, the gentle coming up of the
+moon and the myriads of stars, all were too fascinating
+to risk missing in sleep. Scott had gone after the
+horses and had tethered each by a long rope in a place
+where feeding could be attended to, and had come back
+to the fire and thrown on some more wood. He sat
+smoking with his feet nearly in the fire and his face lit
+by its glow.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you&#8217;ve spent lots of glorious nights in
+the open?&#8221; asked Polly, wistfully.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;A good many. Some of them not so glorious,
+either. One night up in New Mexico&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he paused
+to light another cigarette.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go on,&#8221; demanded the girl. &#8220;When you say &#8216;one
+night up in New Mexico&#8217; I feel just as I used to when
+my father used to say &#8216;once upon a time.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t know why I happened to think of this
+special night,&#8221; grinned Scott, &#8220;except that on most of
+my out-of-door nights I&#8217;ve been by myself&mdash;out hunting
+and that kind of thing&mdash;and this one I had somebody
+with me. It was when I was mining in Colorado,
+and some fellows I knew had a big cattle ranch down
+in New Mexico. It was a real ranch&mdash;not a two for a
+cent one like Herrick&#8217;s. I went down to visit them
+at round-up time. I&#8217;d never seen a round-up before so
+I was hanging around every chance I got.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They had a lot of cattle&mdash;some of them pretty wild&mdash;and
+it wasn&#8217;t easy to keep &#8217;em together especially at
+night. Well, one day Jim Masters got a fall from his
+horse and a kick on the head from another when he
+was down, and he was in a pretty bad state&mdash;it looked
+to us like concussion of the brain but we didn&#8217;t know.
+We carried him into a tent we&#8217;d put up about a quarter
+of a mile from where the cattle were, and one of the
+boys rode to town for a doctor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We were up on a mesa, like the one we crossed
+yesterday, remember? We had outlaw cattle in the
+bunch and it took all the boys to handle them. I,
+being a tenderfoot and not much use with the cattle,
+said I&#8217;d sit with Jim and sort of watch him till the
+doctor came. He was out of his head so &#8217;twasn&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span>
+any comfort to him but it made the boys feel better.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet it was a comfort to him, Marc Scott! You
+are the sort of person it would be a comfort to have
+around if one was out of one&#8217;s head,&#8221; said Polly,
+emphatically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, honey; I&#8217;m afraid you&#8217;re jollying me.
+Anyhow, I stayed with Jim and while he lay there
+groaning I sat in the doorway of the tent and smoked&mdash;wasn&#8217;t
+anything I could do for the poor boy. Man,
+that was a night! The mesa just like a big green table
+spread under the sky&mdash;what is it that lunger poet said&mdash;&#8216;under
+the wide and starry sky&#8217;? Well, that&#8217;s how
+she looked. Mountains all around, moon blazing away
+showing up the cattle at the other end of the mesa,
+not a sound except the river, one of those busy little
+rivers that keep it up night and day. If I&#8217;d known
+something of cattle I wouldn&#8217;t have thought that stillness
+was so pretty, but I didn&#8217;t. I hadn&#8217;t even noticed
+that the cows had stopped bellowing&mdash;it seemed like a
+night that ought to be still.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When, all of a sudden, I saw a movement in that
+bunch of cattle. It was a stampede. That&#8217;s what
+they&#8217;re cooking up, you know, when they&#8217;re still like
+that. Before I&#8217;d realized what had happened they began
+to bolt&mdash;and in our direction. It was just exactly
+as if one of those old bulls had said to the crowd:
+&#8216;There&#8217;s a couple of stiffs in a tent down by the river,
+boys, let&#8217;s rush &#8217;em.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They came down that mesa like all heck let loose.
+The electricity in their hides had made a sort of blue
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span>
+haze&mdash;phosphorescent, they call it&mdash;and it gave &#8217;em
+an awful look. Of course, the boys hadn&#8217;t let them
+start a stampede without doing anything to stop &#8217;em.
+They were riding round &#8217;em, yelling and shooting into
+the air, but on they came.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it was no place for me and Jim. It began
+to look to me as if that doctor was going to have his
+trip for nothing, but what could I do? I couldn&#8217;t go
+off and leave Jim, and when I tried to pick him up he
+fought me so I had to drop him. &#8217;Twouldn&#8217;t have
+done much good anyhow because there was no place to
+go. So I said to myself: &#8216;Sit tight, old man, and if
+you can&#8217;t die game, die as game as you can.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On they came like a lot of mad things. Then, all
+at once, when I&#8217;d about given up hope, the boys got
+&#8217;em to milling. You know how they do that? Get &#8217;em
+started to going round and round instead of straight
+ahead and the fools will go till they drop in their
+tracks. When I saw &#8217;em doing that I knew that Jim
+and I weren&#8217;t slated for Heaven that night so I sat
+still and enjoyed the sight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was one wild sight. You can read about stampedes
+till your head aches but you&#8217;ve got to see one
+to know how she feels.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What an interesting life you&#8217;ve had, Marc, and all
+I&#8217;ve done was to drive a Red Cross ambulance around
+Chicago and win a few golf trophies,&#8221; murmured
+Polly, sleepily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that depends. Perhaps it&#8217;s been interesting,
+but it ain&#8217;t been easy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They sat in silence for a while and then Scott saw
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span>
+that the girl had fallen asleep. He smiled as he put
+more wood on the fire.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Funny that she and I should find each other out of
+all the world,&#8221; he meditated. &#8220;Just one nice girl and
+one no-account chap drawn toward each other. Some
+folks call it Fate. I didn&#8217;t mean to do it and maybe
+I&#8217;m going to wish I hadn&#8217;t&mdash;but just now I&#8217;m satisfied.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVI_TOM_DOES_A_MARATHON' id='XVI_TOM_DOES_A_MARATHON'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h3>TOM DOES A MARATHON</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>That Jimmy Adams survived the operation of probing
+to which he was subjected by Li Yow was to Tom
+Johnson evidence of an almost miraculous skill on the
+part of the Chinese doctor. Tom knew very little
+of operations. His life had been a normal one and
+the grisly sight which he was called upon to witness
+would have altogether unmanned him had it not been
+for Mrs. Van&#8217;s timely nip. As it was, he came out of
+the room extremely depressed.</p>
+<p>Depression was a mood which in Tom Johnson usually
+led to action. In this case his first move was to
+visit Cochise. It did not brighten his outlook upon
+life. Cochise was in no state to travel, that was evident.
+He was tired and stiff and his back showed signs
+of soreness. Rest was undoubtedly what his case demanded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you was a society dame, your doctor would send
+you to Miami for a month and say cut out all mental
+strain,&#8221; soliloquized the engineer, bathing the back
+gently. &#8220;Being as you&#8217;re a horse, the best we can do
+is to turn you out to pasture for a while. Well, I&#8217;m
+no fancy rider, God knows, but nobody can say I
+ever give a horse a sore back. That blanket was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span>
+pretty nigh off your tail when he brought you in. Any
+white man would have stopped and fixed it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He sauntered back to his cabin and sat down to
+think. Tom was tall, over six feet, and very thin.
+His skin was brown and his straight black hair which
+he wore rather long, not because he liked it, but because
+he disliked the Conejo barber, gave him rather
+an Indian look. His clothes hung loosely on him, lending
+very little to his personal charm, and when he sat
+he usually sat on his spine, a practice deplored by
+beauty doctors. When O&#8217;Grady came along a few
+minutes later, he was deep in thought.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, what do you think of this here business over
+at Casa Grande?&#8221; demanded the latter persistently.
+&#8220;Think the Doc&#8217;s lyin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why should he? Besides, he was scared. He
+most put old Cochise out of commission. He saw
+something all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think it was Pachuca?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Why should Pachuca come back after he&#8217;d
+cleaned &#8217;em out once?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yaquis?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might be. And ag&#8217;in it might be the rebels.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is the rebels now? Johnny&#8217;s bunch?&#8221; asked
+O&#8217;Grady.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Search me. I suppose this here state of Sonora
+is fighting the rest, but I don&#8217;t see that they&#8217;ve got any
+call to burn an Englishman&#8217;s property. This here Mrs.
+Conrad&#8217;s English, too, ain&#8217;t she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, she ain&#8217;t English, she&#8217;s good plain American,
+Came from Boston, same as Hard,&#8221; said O&#8217;Grady.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, don&#8217;t an American woman lose her nationality
+when she marries a foreigner?&#8221; demanded Tom,
+wisely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;d ought to if she marries an Englishman,&#8221; replied
+O&#8217;Grady, belligerently. &#8220;But don&#8217;t she get it
+back if he dies?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hanged if I know! Woman&#8217;s suffrage has come
+up since I left home,&#8221; replied Johnson, placidly.
+&#8220;Anyhow, I&#8217;m going to walk to Conejo and see if I
+can&#8217;t find out something about Casa Grande.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Walk? Holy Moses! I&#8217;ll go with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, you won&#8217;t. Somebody&#8217;s got to stay here and
+look after Mrs. Van and Jimmy. The Doc can&#8217;t fight
+and Williams don&#8217;t think of anything but the store.
+You and Miller have got to do the rest.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you go to Casa Grande? It&#8217;s nearer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the use? What could I do? If I go to
+Conejo, I can pick up Mendoza and his car and mebbe
+some fellers to go along and make a posse. Of course,
+if they&#8217;re cleaned out&mdash;but I&#8217;m figurin&#8217; that they ain&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. You got to do that,&#8221; replied O&#8217;Grady.
+&#8220;When you goin&#8217; to start?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soon as I can get Mrs. Van to put me up some
+chow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, good luck to you&mdash;and the rest of them. I&#8217;d
+sure hate to think of them folks of ours massacred
+by a bunch of greasers,&#8221; and O&#8217;Grady strolled sadly
+away.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Van Zandt was washing dishes when Johnson
+stopped in with his request He prefaced it with an
+inquiry about the invalid.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, he&#8217;s doin&#8217; all right, I guess. Doc&#8217;s give him
+something to make him sleep. I&#8217;ll say this for the man&mdash;he&#8217;s
+a good doctor. He means to be a doctor while
+he&#8217;s here, too. Nothing doing on the cooking job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, sir! I asked him something just kind of
+casual about pies and you&#8217;d have said he&#8217;d never heard
+of one. Distant as anything! I suppose I can stand it
+if he cures Jimmy. Where you going?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Going to walk to Conejo.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Walk!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Tom repeated his plan. Mrs. Van wiped her eyes on
+the dish towel. &#8220;You&#8217;re a good man,&#8221; she said, simply.
+&#8220;I wish I could go with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t feeling as brisk as I&#8217;m letting on about this
+business, Mrs. Van,&#8221; continued Tom. &#8220;What that
+Chink saw don&#8217;t listen good to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nor to me. When I think of those girls&mdash;well, I
+ain&#8217;t going to think of them. After all, Tom, there&#8217;s
+more ways for folks to get out of trouble than there is
+for them to get in. I&#8217;ve always noticed that. When I
+was married, I had a husband who knew more about
+getting into trouble than any living man, and I used to
+notice that he always went about it in just the same
+kind of ways&mdash;drink, cards, and women; but when I
+had to get him out of it&mdash;why, Lord, there were a million
+different ways I had to manage. There are loads
+of ways for smart folks to dodge trouble and our folks
+are smart.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Johnson started for Conejo about noon. It was not
+the hour he would have selected for a long walk in a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span>
+warm climate, but he had no choice. He did not try to
+make very rapid progress during the afternoon, his
+idea being to get in his best work at night; so he rested
+whenever he struck a shady spot. A stranger coming
+along and spying Tom stretched under a tree, with his
+sombrero covering his face, would not have associated
+him with reckless speed. He ate his supper slowly,
+thanking Heaven for the invention of the thermos bottle,
+and then started for the long pull.</p>
+<p>It was cool and delightful now and he felt refreshed
+and invigorated. His bundle was light and he swung
+along at a good clip. In and out of arroyos, over little
+bridges, under fragrant branches of pine&mdash;the walk
+was pleasant and the engineer reflected that one sees a
+good deal from one&#8217;s feet that one misses from the cab
+of an engine. Prairie dogs scuttled into their holes as
+he approached and chipmunks sat on branches and
+swore at him in sharp little voices. Now and then a
+far-away but penetrating odor reminded him of another
+night animal on the prowl.</p>
+<p>His wisdom in following the railroad track instead
+of the road was evident. It was longer but it led
+through the mountains at the lowest places. Midnight
+found him nearly out of the mountains, standing, tired
+but not exhausted, on the edge of a decline, looking
+over miles of the semi-flat country to a dark spot where
+one or two lights twinkled faintly and which he knew
+was Conejo.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Old Swartz is still on the job,&#8221; he reflected, as he
+rolled himself in his blanket and settled down for a
+nap. He had built a small fire and lay with his feet
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span>
+almost in it. He stared ahead of him over the road
+which he must travel before he could reach his destination
+and though his trip was only half made he felt as
+though he were already there, so encouraging was the
+sight of Swartz&#8217; night light.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a great country for them that can stand the
+pace,&#8221; he murmured, sleepily. &#8220;I&#8217;ve a notion sometimes
+to go back to Omaha and get me a wife and settle
+down out here. Picking a woman these days is a risk,
+though. Get a young one, so&#8217;s you can educate her,
+and ten to one you get an ambitious young brat that
+wants to spend all your money seein&#8217; life. Pick a settled
+one, a widow woman, say, and you get one that
+knows more&#8217;n you do and that don&#8217;t make for happiness
+in married life. Mrs. Van Zandt&#8217;s a likely woman
+but she&#8217;s had one gold brick&mdash;&#8217;tain&#8217;t likely she&#8217;d want
+to fall for another. Besides, I can enjoy her cooking
+and her company without bein&#8217; married to her, and
+there&#8217;s times I like right well to get clear of her gab,&#8221;
+and so he drifted into sleep, snoring comfortably before
+his fire went out.</p>
+<p>It was the middle of the afternoon when Johnson,
+tall, gaunt and tired, stalked into Swartz&#8217; store at Conejo
+where he found a situation for which he was not
+prepared. Conejo was under martial law, and from
+every doorway he saw the interested faces of women
+and children who stared at the soldiers as they went
+by or stood talking in groups. The jail had a military
+guard while the office of the local <i>jefe</i> swarmed with
+uniforms. Outside stood a motor truck and two large
+automobiles, quite dwarfing Mendoza&#8217;s Ford, which,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span>
+having been requisitioned, also stood near by, its
+wrathful owner lurking in the distance keeping an eye
+on his treasure.</p>
+<p>In Swartz&#8217; store the fat owner was still in his accustomed
+seat, while the usual loafers still persistently
+loafed, but there were soldiers everywhere.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whew, this is something new for Conejo!&#8221; whistled
+Tom. &#8220;I reckon I&#8217;d better have a word with
+Dutch before I horn in. Say, Swartz,&#8221; he said, pushing
+a crowd of youngsters out of the way, &#8220;got
+anything to drink? I&#8217;ve just walked in from
+Athens.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My Gott, are you mad?&#8221; inquired Swartz, pleasantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet, but I&#8217;m likely to be if I don&#8217;t get something
+down my gullet. Got any beer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Beer?&#8221; Swartz&#8217; contempt was sweeping. &#8220;Look
+at dem,&#8221; pointing to the soldiers. &#8220;Doos that look like
+I haf any beer mit dem fellers around?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who are they? Federals or Rebs?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;De State troops. Don&#8217;t you know dis here state
+has&mdash;what you call it&mdash;seceded?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Martial law, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Swartz nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did they grab your stuff or did they pay for it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, dey pays&mdash;in paper money,&#8221; replied the German,
+sourly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you&#8217;re better off than we are. They took
+our stuff, shot two of the boys, knifed another, and
+blew up our track.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who done it?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Young Pachuca and his crowd. Say, who&#8217;s the
+boss of this outfit?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Swartz opined that Colonel d&#8217;Anguerra, who was
+lodged in the house of the local <i>jefe</i>, was in command.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-natured kind of a guy, is he?&#8221; queried Tom,
+anxiously. &#8220;Or one of the kind that orders out the
+firing squad if his dinner don&#8217;t set well on him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Swartz had seen better natured men than the
+Colonel, but on the other hand admitted that he had
+seen worse. &#8220;He iss a young man,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and he
+ain&#8217;t got so much sense that it bothers him, yet he tries
+to keep them devils quiet if he can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, give me a drink of water if you ain&#8217;t got no
+beer. I guess I&#8217;ll look this feller up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I got some lemon pop,&#8221; offered Swartz, hospitably.
+&#8220;Them fellers don&#8217;t like it; it ain&#8217;t got poison enough
+in it for &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Johnson, having drunk the pop, departed for the official
+residence. It took some time and a good deal of
+diplomacy to get an audience with the military chief,
+but it was accomplished at last. D&#8217;Anguerra was a
+youngish man, tall, thin and sallow. He spoke very
+little English, but his secretary spoke it very well and
+acted as interpreter, Tom&#8217;s Spanish being several degrees
+worse than the Colonel&#8217;s English. The conversation
+in two tongues proceeded through the secretary
+with dispatch and accuracy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I understand that you are from an American mining
+company located at Athens?&#8221; the Colonel began.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am,&#8221; replied Tom, a little awed by the other&#8217;s
+dignity and the threefold nature of the dialogue.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You have been raided by bandits, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I suppose you&#8217;d call it that. Juan Pachuca
+helped himself to what he wanted and shot two of our
+boys.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Killed them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, they ain&#8217;t killed, but one of &#8217;em&#8217;s likely to lose
+a leg. He knifed one, but the knife was dull and he
+ain&#8217;t hurt much. But that ain&#8217;t what I come over here
+about.&#8221; And Tom went on with Li Yow&#8217;s story of the
+Casa Grande raid, the arrival of Scott, Hard and Polly,
+and the fire. &#8220;I dunno and he dunno who done the
+burnin&#8217; or what else has happened over there, but he
+says they heard Pachuca say somethin&#8217; about meeting
+Angel Gonzales, and I guess you know who he is. I
+thought mebbe you could let me have a car and a posse
+and I could go over and see what&#8217;s been done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Colonel and his secretary conversed together
+for a few moments, Tom listening anxiously but quite
+unable to get the thread of the talk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see, Colonel,&#8221; he continued, anxiously, &#8220;I
+dunno if this little revolution of yours is going to turn
+out the real thing or not; but there&#8217;s one thing you can
+be darn sure of if it does, and that is that one of the
+first letters your new president&#8217;s going to get in his
+official mail is going to be a bill of damages from
+Washington and whatever&#8217;s happened to our folks is
+going to be wrote down in it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Colonel d&#8217;Anguerra smiled patiently. &#8220;I will tell
+you, señor, what I know about the affair at Casa
+Grande. According to this dispatch, a regiment of
+Sonora troops passed by the ranch on their way south.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span>
+They saw flames and heard shots. A band of Yaquis
+who had been driven from their village by one Angel
+Gonzales were burning and looting. The troops&#8217; orders
+were for haste and they did not stop to find out
+the extent of the damage but called off the Yaquis.
+You perhaps know that those Indians are excellent soldiers
+and that there are many of them in our army.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean to say they didn&#8217;t go over to see if anything
+had happened to the women folks?&#8221; demanded
+Tom, aghast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Their orders were positive. They could not take
+the time. To-day we have news that some of our
+troops have crossed the Sinaloa border. These men
+who passed Casa Grande were on their way to Hermosillo
+to guard the capital.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it does look like you were pulling it off, don&#8217;t
+it?&#8221; Tom&#8217;s voice was admiring in spite of himself.
+&#8220;What beats me, señor, is how you manage to pump
+enough enthusiasm into these fellers to keep them
+fighting. You&#8217;ve been at it nearly ten years now. In
+my country we&#8217;d either have put it through by that
+time or given it up as a bad job and pretended we&#8217;d
+never wanted it anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Mexican laughed. &#8220;My friend,&#8221; he said, seriously,
+&#8220;people will fight for more than ten years with
+the hope of liberty and a good government ahead of
+them. This time we hope to get both.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I hope you do. It&#8217;s too good a country to go
+to the dogs. But about this Juan Pachuca&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He is no business of mine,&#8221; replied the Colonel,
+briefly. &#8220;He was out of favor with the Carranza government
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span>
+and evidently hopes to get into the saddle
+again through the revolution. Personally, I do not believe
+he will. General Obregon is not fond of his type.
+Angel Gonzales is what you call in your country a
+regular bad lot. I have orders in this dispatch to look
+into his case. As to the automobile. I can give you an
+order for the car which you saw outside&mdash;the small
+one. I can&#8217;t spare any men.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mendoza&#8217;s Ford?&#8221; groaned Tom. &#8220;I knew I&#8217;d
+draw that. Well, never mind, señor. I&#8217;m obliged to
+you just the same.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The order written, Mendoza was induced to start.
+&#8220;What the devil are those for?&#8221; demanded Johnson,
+as he saw the old Mexican putting three large cans in
+the car.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Water,&#8221; replied Mendoza, tersely. &#8220;Las&#8217; time I
+drive him ze radiator he leak. I mend him, but <i>quien
+sabe</i>? We play safe, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My God, yes,&#8221; murmured Tom. &#8220;Come on,
+<i>amigo</i>, it&#8217;s near six and this here&#8217;s no country to be
+rattlin&#8217; round in a damaged Ford after dark.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The little car justified its owner&#8217;s faith in it, however,
+for it went along at a good clip. The road from
+Conejo was fairly good and they made good time. The
+sun was down and the evening had set when they
+reached the place where Scott and Polly had taken the
+trail. Mendoza stopped the car.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lots of men been by here,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Soldiers or
+bandits&mdash;mebbe bot&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What d&#8217;ye mean?&#8221; demanded Tom, waking up.
+&#8220;How can you tell?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217; have to be Injun to know dat. See tracks,&#8221;
+grunted Mendoza. &#8220;Mebbe hundred men come here
+from trail, <i>amigo</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Tom looked. The banks of the river were broken
+and trodden by the feet of many horses. Even in the
+dim light he could see that, though he would never
+have noticed it for himself. He admitted when Mendoza
+persisted that it did look as though a large party
+of horsemen had crossed the river.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, they&#8217;ve passed anyhow, so we should worry.
+Got a gun?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Si</i>,&#8221; grinned Mendoza, cheerfully, &#8220;I always got a
+gun.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on, what&#8217;s this?&#8221; They had come around
+the corner and saw, by the edge of the road, the
+wrecked wagon. &#8220;That&#8217;s Herrick&#8217;s wagon,&#8221; said Tom,
+excitedly. &#8220;In the ditch!&#8221; He got down and went
+to investigate.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wheel&#8217;s busted. Horses must have got scared and
+bolted round the curve,&#8221; said the engineer, meditatively.
+&#8220;Nothin&#8217; in the wagon. Looks bad to me;
+don&#8217;t it to you, Mendoza?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Si</i>,&#8221; responded Mendoza. &#8220;We go by Soria&#8217;s
+place. He know mebbe what happen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; assented Tom, sadly. &#8220;If they&#8217;d got
+away on the horses seems to me we&#8217;d have seen or
+heard somethin&#8217; of them on the road. Unless they
+went by the trail&mdash;in that case them fellers on horseback
+would have met &#8217;em. Well, step on your gas,
+Mendoza, and let&#8217;s get to Soria&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soria&#8217;s place was empty. Not a child, nor a dog,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span>
+nor a burro. Not a sign of life on the place anywhere.
+This was a blow and intensified Tom&#8217;s gloomy fears.
+He did not speak as they drove on to Casa Grande.
+The moon was coming up and they saw the badly
+burned ruins of the barn as they turned in.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ze house is lef&#8217;,&#8221; said Mendoza, consolingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it is,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;But look at them windows!
+Riddled with bullets. The boys must have put
+up a good fight with them Indians, anyhow. Tell you
+what, Mendoza, I&#8217;d give a good deal to see old Scotty&#8217;s
+ugly mug in one of &#8217;em! Come on, we may as well go
+in,&#8221; and he stepped apprehensively out of the car.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVII_AT_SORIA_S' id='XVII_AT_SORIA_S'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+<h3>AT SORIA&#8217;S</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Hard and Mrs. Conrad stared at each other in whimsical
+dismay as the other couple rode away. Then they
+looked at the suitcases carefully tucked away in the
+brush.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not much of a hiding place,&#8221; observed Hard, &#8220;but
+it&#8217;s better than leaving them in the wagon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And decidedly better than carrying them all the
+way to Soria&#8217;s,&#8221; replied Clara. &#8220;Safe enough, too.
+It isn&#8217;t once in a coon&#8217;s age that anybody travels
+around these places. Funny, isn&#8217;t it, when you think
+of all the crowded spots there are in the world?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It reminds me,&#8221; said Hard, with a reminiscent
+chuckle, &#8220;of a yarn. I was in New Mexico on a hunting
+trip with Joe McArthur&mdash;you remember the Boston
+McArthurs who had a ranch near one of the Apache
+reservations? Well, we rode up to the agency store to
+ask old Slade, the trader, about an Indian guide.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We got him and started out the next day. We
+were riding up among the pines&mdash;great tall fellows, a
+regular park of them; not a living thing in sight except
+the birds, not a sound except the river. McArthur and
+I were riding behind Charley, the guide. We&#8217;d been
+arguing rather aimlessly as to whether an Indian had
+a sense of humor or not; Joe thought they hadn&#8217;t,
+while I contended that they had.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;The quiet of the place rather got us. McArthur
+took a silver dollar from his pocket and said: &#8216;Hard,
+I believe I could lay this dollar on that stump over
+there and come back here in a year and find it there.&#8217;
+Old Charley turned around, his wrinkled face twisted
+into a grin. &#8216;No,&#8217; he said, &#8216;no find him nex&#8217; year.
+Mr. Slade he get him nex&#8217; morning.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Charley got the dollar and McArthur admitted
+that I had the right of the argument.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That sounds to me just like a McArthur of Boston,&#8221;
+said Clara, severely. &#8220;An Indian without a sense
+of humor! Just because they don&#8217;t see fit to howl over
+the fool things a white man howls over, I suppose.&#8221;
+She did not speak again for some time, then she burst
+out tempestuously:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Henry, why did you begin talking about Boston?
+Do you know, I&#8217;ve been more lonesome for the dear old
+place in the last twenty-four hours than ever before?
+I wonder if seeing you has made me homesick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so,&#8221; said Hard. &#8220;It&#8217;s time for you to go
+back to Boston, Clara.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps; but I shall come back here. Once this
+country gets on its feet I can sell for a decent price.
+There&#8217;s going to be a rush to Mexico some day when
+people find that they can come without risking their
+lives and their money.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think that time is coming soon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope it is. This last move looks hopeful. If
+Obregon can establish a good government, he will. Of
+course, our people will have to be patient. At any rate,
+I&#8217;m going to risk it.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; smiled Hard, &#8220;you would feel that way, of
+course.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Money getting isn&#8217;t such an ugly business, Henry,
+when you risk something. It puts a bit of romance
+into the thing. I think I rather despise people who
+make money just by sitting in an office and guessing
+right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Clara, how old are you? Sixteen?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind telling you that I&#8217;m older than I look,
+and it&#8217;s a wonder to me after the hard knocks I&#8217;ve
+had. Well, do you think you can hobble back to
+Soria&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s wait a little longer. I could wish it a little
+cooler.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;d wear a sombrero instead of that white
+thing&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t. I&#8217;m not built for a sombrero. Makes me
+look like the villain in a show.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara burst into laughter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Henry,&#8221; she said, &#8220;what an absurd world this is
+once a human being cuts loose from his original moorings!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes? It&#8217;s an almighty hot world when he cuts
+loose from a roof and an ice-water tank, I&#8217;ve noticed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not thinking of ordinary things&mdash;I&#8217;m thinking
+of you and me and Boston,&#8221; pursued Clara, firmly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Clara, I can stand a good deal, especially from you,
+but if you insist upon talking about Boston I&#8217;m likely to
+do something that we&#8217;ll both regret.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was just thinking that if you and I had stayed in
+Boston, in our own little niches, as our kind of people
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span>
+usually do, what would we be doing?&#8221; went on Clara,
+meditatively.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I would be having a gin fizz at the club,&#8221; said
+Hard, pensively, &#8220;to be followed possibly by a game of
+bridge and a dinner&mdash;a real, human dinner, not just
+food&mdash;at my brother John&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I had stayed where I belonged, or where everybody
+said I belonged when my father died and the
+family income disappeared,&#8221; said Clara, persistently,
+&#8220;I would be teaching music in a girls&#8217; school, and
+planning a trip to Italy with a lot of other middle-aged
+spinsters. Instead of that, I put all that I had into a
+two years&#8217; study in London and Paris and fell in with
+a wandering Englishman, married him, and here I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m glad you didn&#8217;t stay where you belonged,
+Clara, for quite apart from the pleasure of your company,
+which under sane conditions I find very delightful,
+I don&#8217;t seem to see you in the rôle of a middle-aged
+spinster. Still, you might easily have been one. I
+know some charming girls in Boston who have gone
+that path.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So do I,&#8221; soberly. &#8220;Some of them so much more
+charming than some of my married friends that I don&#8217;t
+quite get the idea. Some of Nature&#8217;s blunders, I suppose.
+Well, shall we start?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;d better. I think it&#8217;s going to be some walk.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They plodded along in silence. This time Hard
+broke it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Clara, do you think that youngster is good enough
+for Marc Scott? You&#8217;re clever enough to judge people
+even on a short acquaintance.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Heavens, Henry, what a question!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I admit it&#8217;s crude. Theoretically, any nice girl
+confers a tremendous favor on the man she marries
+merely by so doing; man being inherently vile. But,
+Clara, honestly, man to man, how many nice girls one
+knows who would be the deuce to live with!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara&#8217;s eyes twinkled. &#8220;Henry,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you&#8217;re
+perfectly right, of course, but man to man, do you
+think you&#8217;ve any right to assume that the ones who
+aren&#8217;t nice are any pleasanter&mdash;taken as a steady
+diet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, no, if you put it like that. But, I mean&mdash;well&mdash;this
+Polly youngster, of whom by the way I am
+very fond, I don&#8217;t know why, she&#8217;s as spoiled as the
+deuce, has had very little education&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She graduated from Wellesley, so she tells
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Truly? How well they cover it up these days!
+In my youth, you knew when a woman was well educated.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And avoided her. That&#8217;s why they learned to
+cover it up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be trivial. What I mean is this. Scott is
+an unusual fellow. He&#8217;s brought himself up from
+nothing, with only a boost here and there from someone
+who recognized his worth. He&#8217;s rough and he&#8217;s
+odd, but he has a mind. He will always be a man of
+importance in his community.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I admit all that; but it doesn&#8217;t imply that he&#8217;s too
+good for Polly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, but after all, what does a spoiled society girl
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span>
+of twenty-four know about a worth-while man, anyhow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, my dear Henry, wake up! You aren&#8217;t living
+in the Victorian period. She knows a lot more about
+everything than you think, and well for her that she
+does. Girls of to-day may be daring, they may be
+over confident, they may be hard, but at least they
+know something of the world outside their own environment.
+After all, life&#8217;s a tricky job for a woman&mdash;don&#8217;t
+begrudge her a little folly before she undertakes
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t. I like frivolous girls&mdash;in a way; but I
+don&#8217;t like to see a man with a brain marrying a kitten.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Polly Street isn&#8217;t a kitten. She&#8217;s never had to consider
+anything more serious than a golf course, but
+she&#8217;ll make good when the time comes. She&#8217;s shown
+that since she&#8217;s been here. But, Henry, why this sudden
+interest in match-making? Has he, by any chance,
+asked your valuable advice?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good Heavens, no!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Match-making, you know, belongs to middle age.
+Young people are too self-centred to bother with it. I
+wonder if we&#8217;re nearly there? I&#8217;m dead.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, my aching feet tell me we are, Clara, but my
+manly intelligence suggests that if we&#8217;ve covered one-third
+of the distance we&#8217;re mighty lucky.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s about what I thought,&#8221; groaned Clara.
+&#8220;How&#8217;s your knee?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Peevish but possible. Shall we take a rest?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh dear, yes, and a bite.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They topped the next rise. It was decidedly a rise
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span>
+and commanded a wide view of the flat part of the
+country. At a little distance rose a live oak whose low
+branches offered a slight shelter from the sun. A
+cooling breeze played about them, kicking up spirals
+of sand, and a prairie-dog village manifested eager interest
+in their presence. They ate their sandwiches
+and Hard returned to the subject of Scott and Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think&mdash;you being a woman and acute in
+such matters&mdash;that he&#8217;s asked her yet?&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t; they both look too edgy. He&#8217;s going
+to, however, and she&#8217;s going to take him, I think. I&#8217;m
+not sure. She may be flirting.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If she flirts with Scott, I&#8217;ll have her punished,&#8221;
+declared Hard, indignantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe she won&#8217;t. She&#8217;s a bit of a minx,
+though, and while she&#8217;s young she&#8217;s no infant. Some
+girls have to do the world&#8217;s flirting, Henry, because the
+others won&#8217;t&mdash;or can&#8217;t. It wouldn&#8217;t do to have things
+made too easy for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They are not,&#8221; said Hard, with meaning.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, this isn&#8217;t getting to Soria&#8217;s.&#8221; Clara rose
+hastily. She looked back over the road. &#8220;It looks
+like people back there&mdash;dust flying. Do you suppose
+it&#8217;s more troops?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard stared. &#8220;No,&#8221; he said, finally, &#8220;it&#8217;s only the
+wind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I guess it is,&#8221; assented Clara. &#8220;Let&#8217;s be
+moving.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was slow going&mdash;a lame man and a tired woman&mdash;both
+unused to walking even under favorable circumstances.
+It seemed to Clara Conrad as she looked
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span>
+ahead at the wearisome stretch of road, as though they
+made no more progress than a couple of ants crawling
+up a mountainside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think we&#8217;ll ever make it?&#8221; she said, stopping
+for a long breath at the top of a small rise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve got to,&#8221; said Hard, simply, &#8220;What else is
+there to do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara did not answer but looked longingly back toward
+the spot in the cottonwoods.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t play Lot&#8217;s wife, Clara; keep on looking forward.
+It&#8217;s our only hope.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lot&#8217;s wife always appealed to my sympathies,&#8221; said
+Clara, pensively. &#8220;I think she was probably a settled
+sort of a woman, married to one of these men who like
+change. It must have irritated her awfully to have to
+pack up and move when she was so comfortable. Oh,
+Henry, that&#8217;s not wind blowing the dust! It&#8217;s men&mdash;horsemen!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It does look like it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re coming this way. I don&#8217;t like it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Neither do I.&#8221; Hard&#8217;s voice was anxious. &#8220;If
+we had a bit of shelter&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>They looked anxiously about, but the flatness of the
+country offered no opportunity for anything larger
+than a gopher to hide. Trees and bushes, alike too
+small for shelter, and little rises of land, hard enough
+to climb but easily visible to anyone on horseback, were
+all that offered themselves. In the distance an arroyo
+looked promising, but it was far and the line of riders
+very near.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve got to make a break for it, anyhow,&#8221; said
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span>
+Hard, at last. &#8220;It&#8217;s off the road. It&#8217;s our only
+chance; that, and the possibility that they may be
+troops and in too much of a hurry to stop for the likes
+of us. Come on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara sighed and quickened her pace. They left
+the road and struck across country toward the arroyo.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe they&#8217;re troops,&#8221; she said. &#8220;There
+aren&#8217;t enough of them. Oh, Henry, suppose it&#8217;s Angel
+Gonzales and his men!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard shrugged his shoulders. &#8220;They may very
+well be,&#8221; he said. &#8220;But we&#8217;ll hope they&#8217;re not. Let&#8217;s
+be optimistic as long as we have a straw to clutch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara did not answer. She took another look at the
+rapidly advancing line and felt, not unreasonably, that
+the straw was a weak one even for the clutch of an
+optimist. They dug in, weary as they were, making
+small progress, but with hopeful eyes bent upon the
+distant arroyo. At least they were going in a different
+direction from the riders. Hard limped painfully.
+His face was set in lines of determination&mdash;or was it
+pain? Clara wondered. She stopped suddenly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Henry,&#8221; she said, firmly, &#8220;this is folly. Those
+men must have seen us. They&#8217;re able to overtake us if
+they want to, and if they want to do anything to us,
+they will. We can&#8217;t help ourselves. I&#8217;m not going
+another step. I&#8217;m going to sit down here and see what
+happens.&#8221; As she spoke, she sat down on a tree stump.
+Hard laughed ruefully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I suppose you&#8217;re right,&#8221; he said. &#8220;They&#8217;ve
+got us, if they want us. We&#8217;ll hope they don&#8217;t.&#8221; He
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span>
+sat down on the ground beside her, feeling very much
+as though he would never get up again.</p>
+<p>So far the horsemen had given no indication of having
+seen the fugitives. They were fox-trotting along,
+in twos and threes, for the road was fairly wide.
+There was no air of discipline about the party, nothing
+to indicate that it was of a military character. As they
+came opposite the fugitives, who had struck off the
+road at a right angle, they stopped, in obedience to a
+signal from one of the two riding ahead.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve seen us!&#8221; breathed Clara.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And are wondering whether we&#8217;re worth while,&#8221;
+supplemented Hard. &#8220;Ah, here they come!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The result of the conference reached, the two leaders
+of the party followed by half a dozen men struck off
+toward Clara and Hard. The others waited in the
+road. They came at a good gait, their badly fed horses
+responding to the ugly spur with a nervous speed which
+covered the hilly space in seconds where Hard and
+Clara had taken minutes to crawl.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid they&#8217;re not troops,&#8221; observed Hard.
+&#8220;They wouldn&#8217;t take all that trouble for a pair of
+strangers. It&#8217;s Angel, or someone of his sort. Well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; Clara smiled bravely. &#8220;There&#8217;s nothing
+to do but wait. Better let me talk to them; I have the
+language better in hand, I think. If it&#8217;s money they
+want we may as well give them what we have to buy
+our freedom.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By all means.&#8221; Hard grinned. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got ten dollars.
+It won&#8217;t buy much&mdash;even of freedom, I&#8217;m
+afraid.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Most of mine is in express checks, tucked away in
+a sheltered spot,&#8221; said Clara, frowning. &#8220;I don&#8217;t believe
+they&#8217;d want them&mdash;Pachuca didn&#8217;t. However, I
+have a little to offer.&#8221; She handed him her handbag.</p>
+<p>Angel Gonzales, closely followed by Porfirio Cortes,
+drew up beside the odd-looking couple sitting by the
+wayside. The other men lingered within hearing.
+Angel opened the conversation in his native tongue.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who are you and where are you going?&#8221; he demanded,
+his shifty black eyes gleaming from his
+weather-beaten face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And why?&#8221; growled Cortes. &#8220;When the country
+is upset, the place for foreigners is at home.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, we know it is,&#8221; said Clara, placatingly. &#8220;But
+your country, you know, is almost always upset. This
+gentleman, Señor Hard, is connected with the mining
+company at Athens. I am from the South, and on my
+way to the border.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where are your horses?&#8221; said Angel, suspiciously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A young man named Juan Pachuca raided the
+ranch where we were visiting and took all the livestock,&#8221;
+replied Clara, eyeing the swarthy fellow quietly.</p>
+<p>There was a hurried colloquy between the two Mexicans
+and a laugh from Gonzales.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are not going toward Athens,&#8221; he observed,
+drily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, we&#8217;re not,&#8221; replied Hard. &#8220;We&#8217;re heading
+for the Soria place just at present with the idea of borrowing
+their burro to ride and tie.&#8221; He had risen and
+was leaning heavily on his well leg.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph! It is a long walk to the Soria place,&#8221;
+grunted Angel. &#8220;You&#8217;re lame?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, temporarily.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; Angel turned to his men. &#8220;Here, two
+of you double up and give these people horses,&#8221; he
+commanded curtly. Apparently, he was one of those
+leaders whose word is law, for two of the men rolled
+their horses and led them toward the two Americans
+who stared at them in astonishment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We go by Soria&#8217;s,&#8221; said Angel, gruffly. &#8220;We will
+take you that far.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, but I think&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Clara began weakly,
+but stopped as she felt herself being seized by one of
+the men and lifted roughly to the saddle of a wiry little
+gray horse which was dancing around in a most disconcerting
+manner. It was a time for self-preservation
+and not for protest. She grasped the pommel desperately
+with one hand and the reins with the other,
+while her feet were being thrust into the straps
+of the stirrups&mdash;the stirrups themselves being too
+long.</p>
+<p>She was badly scared, for the horse gave every indication
+of being unmanageable; and very miserable, for
+her skirt pulled in a most uncomfortable and unsightly
+fashion. There was nothing to do, however, but to
+make the best of it; for having helped her mount, the
+man who did so climbed up back of one of his fellows
+and abandoned her to her fate. Hard, in the meantime,
+had mounted another rough-looking but more
+conventionally disposed beast, and the procession
+started back to the road, the two Americans side by
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span>
+side, surrounded by the Mexicans; Angel Gonzales
+leading, and Porfirio Cortes bringing up the rear.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It may be a friendly lift, but it looks more like a
+case of abduction,&#8221; said Hard, wrathfully. &#8220;Can you
+hold that brute, Clara?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so,&#8221; she said, her lips a bit white. &#8220;I think
+the poor thing is as scared as I am; probably never saw
+skirts before in his life.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t try to hold him too tight. He&#8217;s probably got
+a tender mouth, judging from the way he fidgets.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I suppose he has, but if I don&#8217;t hold him, he&#8217;s
+going to land me over somewhere in those foothills,&#8221;
+said Clara, faintly. &#8220;He&#8217;s got the most awful little
+rack I ever rode. Henry, do you suppose that fellow
+is Angel Gonzales?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t say. He&#8217;s an ugly-looking ruffian whoever
+he is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush, here he comes! He may understand English,&#8221;
+shivered Clara.</p>
+<p>Angel grinned as he came back to them. &#8220;The
+señorita does not ride very well,&#8221; he said, mockingly.
+Clara did not reply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose,&#8221; she reflected, with a gleam of humor,
+&#8220;that I ought to be grateful to be taken for a &#8216;señorita,&#8217;
+but how can I be grateful for anything when I&#8217;m
+being rattled to pieces?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Angel joined himself to them and they rode three
+abreast. He began to ask questions; questions which
+plainly were designed to inform him as to the financial
+standing of his guests or his prisoners whichever he
+chose to make them.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s as persistent as a society reporter,&#8221; growled
+Hard, under his breath, as Angel relinquished his place
+to one of his men and fell back to ride with Cortes.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s a case of ransom, all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall we make a break for it?&#8221; whispered Clara.
+&#8220;If I let this thing go he&#8217;ll be over in the foothills before
+you can whistle.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, they&#8217;d shoot. Better not risk it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Henry, I can&#8217;t stand it! And I look so! I
+never was so altogether wretched in all my life,&#8221;
+groaned Clara.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be patient, that&#8217;s a good girl, until we see what
+they&#8217;re going to do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If that devil&#8217;s face is any index to his character,
+he&#8217;s going to do something awful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Angel Gonzales, in fact, was justifying Clara&#8217;s
+opinion of him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The woman has money and property, and so, I
+think, has he,&#8221; he said to Cortes. &#8220;If they have
+money, they have friends, and friends will pay, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sometimes,&#8221; admitted Cortes. &#8220;But we are in a
+hurry, <i>amigo</i>. If Pachuca has come this far, he means
+business. We had better be on our way to meet him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that&#8217;s so. Our horses are not strong enough
+to carry double, either. We&#8217;ll leave the Americanos
+with Manuel Soria and pay him to keep them for a few
+days until we know what we want to do with them,
+eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not bad,&#8221; agreed Cortes. &#8220;Manuel is a good deal
+of a fool but his woman is smart. Give her a gun and
+she will know how to use it. She will do it for me
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span>
+because I make love to her now and then,&#8221; he added,
+with something which in a civilized being would pass
+for a simper.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph, she&#8217;d do it for me because I&#8217;ll pay her
+some good money and promise her more,&#8221; said the unsympathetic
+Gonzales.</p>
+<p>By this time they had reached the Soria cabin, much
+to Clara&#8217;s relief, and the party dismounted. The cabin
+door was closed, and Angel, who evidently wasted no
+time on the little courtesies of life, raised his pistol and
+fired into it. Clara caught her breath in horror.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Those babies!&#8221; she gasped, clutching Hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe they&#8217;re in there,&#8221; he whispered. &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t see a sign of life&mdash;not even the burro.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Henry, they&#8217;ve gone to town to spend the money
+that Mr. Scott gave them this morning!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s it. They&#8217;ve taken the burro along to bring
+home the supplies. Don&#8217;t say anything; let them find
+it out. It&#8217;s not our funeral.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was soon apparent that the Soria family had gone&mdash;root
+and branch. There was no response either to
+Angel&#8217;s rude salutation or to the search which followed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re in a hole,&#8221; chuckled Hard, shrewdly.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet you a dollar that they meant to leave us here
+and pay the Sorias to hold us. Now, they&#8217;ve either
+got to take us along or leave a guard for us, which is
+what they&#8217;ll probably do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t think there&#8217;s any chance of his letting
+us go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does he look like a chap who lets anything get
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span>
+away from him? Well, I&#8217;m glad he&#8217;s worried, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Angel Gonzales was worried, no mistake about that.
+The Sorias had upset his plans exceedingly. He did
+not want to burden himself with prisoners; his horses,
+fed only on the scant growth of the land, were in no
+condition to carry double. He did not want to leave
+any of his men behind, because he expected to need
+every one of them in his proposed campaign. On the
+other hand, he hated to give up the dazzling prospect
+of a ransom. He had never played the ransom game,
+but he knew the ropes and he longed to try.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s that coming up the road?&#8221; demanded Cortes,
+breaking off a dialogue with his chief.</p>
+<p>A man&mdash;or, as it developed at closer range&mdash;a boy,
+a very ragged boy, riding a sweating horse, was tearing
+madly in their direction. Boylike, he pulled his poor
+beast to its haunches and gave what was intended for a
+military salute as he saw the redoubtable Gonzales.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what&#8217;s the matter? Who are you?&#8221; demanded
+that gentleman, unencouragingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor Juan Pachuca&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; gasped the panting messenger,
+&#8220;he sends me to say to Captain Gonzales to
+make speed. He waits&mdash;at his <i>rancho</i>. He has news
+of the revolution,&#8221; finished the boy, proudly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;News! Humph, is that all he&#8217;s got?&#8221; demanded
+Angel, promptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Men, and horses and plunder&mdash;oh, much plunder!&#8221;
+The boy&#8217;s eyes shone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So? That&#8217;s better, eh, Cortes? Shall we go,
+or&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor Pachuca says to make speed. Much speed,&#8221;
+reiterated the messenger. &#8220;The troops went South
+only last night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We had better go,&#8221; said Cortes, eagerly. &#8220;We
+can make the <i>rancho</i> with hard riding by morning.
+That is, unless you burden yourself with those!&#8221; he
+gestured scornfully toward the two Americans.</p>
+<p>Angel hesitated. Like Scott, he hated changing his
+mind. Also, the ransom loomed large; and he liked
+the woman&#8217;s looks&mdash;liked her manner of talk. With
+her dark hair and eyes, and her soft voice, she was like
+one of his own people&mdash;&mdash;only much more charming, he
+reflected, with a gleam of the eye.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor Pachuca says&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The devil with Señor Pachuca!&#8221; exploded Angel,
+menacingly. &#8220;Go back and tell him&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; But the
+messenger had already gone. His horse&#8217;s feet were
+pattering down the side of the hill at a rate which argued
+panic in its rider. A laugh rose from the men,
+and Angel, guffawing himself, sent a parting bullet
+over the boy&#8217;s head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cheerful man, isn&#8217;t he?&#8221; muttered Hard. &#8220;Never
+mind, Clara, he didn&#8217;t hit the boy. It&#8217;s evidently only
+his little joke.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Monster!&#8221; Clara&#8217;s black eyes snapped.</p>
+<p>Apparently the little joke had cleared Angel&#8217;s mental
+atmosphere, for without further explanation, he turned
+and with a rough: &#8220;Get on your horses&mdash;we&#8217;ll go!&#8221;
+swung onto his mount. Cortes, with a grin of relief,
+passed the word on:</p>
+<p>&#8220;To horse!&#8221; And in a second the party was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span>
+mounted. Hard and Clara stood watching, ignorant
+of what part they were to play in this new move. No
+attempt was made to mount them, which was in itself
+encouraging, nor did there seem to have been anyone
+detailed to stay and guard them. There was another
+confab between Gonzales and Cortes, which resulted in
+the latter&#8217;s coming toward the two Americans and saying,
+gruffly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Captain Gonzales regrets that he cannot escort you
+further but he is called suddenly to the front.&#8221; There
+was a pause, then, with an impudent grin, he continued,
+&#8220;Of course you know that in time of war, all alien
+property is confiscate? You will give me what money
+you have.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, give it to him, Henry, please!&#8221; Clara&#8217;s
+voice was eager. She pressed her little handbag into
+Cortes&#8217; willing hand. Hard shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, old man, it&#8217;s not much, and if I thought
+you&#8217;d buy a good feed for those horses of yours, I&#8217;d
+hand it over with my blessing. As it is&mdash;I hand it
+over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cortes took the money very much as a conductor collects
+his fares&mdash;&mdash;with no comment but a ready hand.
+He also took a diamond ring which Clara had thoughtlessly
+put in the bag for safe keeping and the watch
+which Hard carried. Then without further words, he
+swung his horse around and at a command from
+Gonzales, the whole crowd swept furiously down the
+hill.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Henry, they&#8217;ve gone! Actually gone&mdash;and taken
+that vile gray horse with them!&#8221; gasped Clara, faintly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It looks like it,&#8221; responded Hard. &#8220;But unless
+I&#8217;m a lot mistaken, they didn&#8217;t mean to go until that boy
+came with his message.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, blessings on the head of Juan Pachuca who
+sent him!&#8221; murmured Clara, wearily, as she started
+for the cabin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you want to stay outside or go in?&#8221; asked
+Hard, pulling a chair forward on the veranda.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Outside, please, as long as we can stand it,&#8221; said
+Clara, with a little shiver. &#8220;I don&#8217;t believe I&#8217;d care
+for Grandmother Soria&#8217;s housekeeping.&#8221; She peeped
+into the family <i>olla</i> hanging on the side of the house.
+It was full. &#8220;Oh, well, Henry, things might have
+been worse,&#8221; she smiled as she sank into the chair.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can bet your dear life they might,&#8221; replied
+Henry, with a glance in the direction taken by Angel
+Gonzales.</p>
+<p>&#8220;See if they&#8217;ve left anything to eat&mdash;anything that
+looks fairly clean.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard emerged a few moments later empty-handed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing,&#8221; he said. &#8220;We evidently arrived at
+the psychological moment for this little family. That
+ten dollars Scott gave them will tide them over till Carlotta
+finds another beau.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But wasn&#8217;t there anything to eat?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a bone. Mother Hubbard&#8217;s cupboard was a
+cafeteria compared to Grandmother Soria&#8217;s. Draw in
+your belt and forget it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why did we eat so much this afternoon? They
+left us the biggest part of the luncheon. Henry, we
+are pigs,&#8221; moaned Clara, wanly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I know. We&#8217;re not the sort to be cast on a desert
+isle, I&#8217;m afraid. If the Sorias get back to-night&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They won&#8217;t. They&#8217;ll stay and make a night of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps the hungry feeling will wear off after a
+while,&#8221; said Hard, hopefully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder? I&#8217;ve often thought I&#8217;d like to try a
+fast. One hears of people doing it and having such
+odd and fascinating sensations,&#8221; said Clara, thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My sensations are odd,&#8221; replied Hard, &#8220;but they
+are distinctly not fascinating.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They sat quietly for a while, watching the clouds
+hovering over the mountains, sometimes over the
+peaks, sometimes nestling in fleecy patches half-way
+up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The trail they took crosses about where that gap in
+the mountains is,&#8221; said Clara. &#8220;Under that first cloud,
+so Mr. Scott said.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pretty high.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, they&#8217;ll have to do some climbing.&#8221; Clara
+sighed softly. Hard felt an unreasonable desire, almost
+an angry desire to take her in his arms. It was
+a feeling unlike him, usually so moderate in his emotions.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Clara,&#8221; he said, softly, &#8220;were you thinking of him
+when you sighed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara started. &#8220;Him!&#8221; she echoed, helplessly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Dick Conrad.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not exactly, Henry. I was thinking of that terrible
+trip we took through the mountains&mdash;yes, I was
+in a way thinking of Dick.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You were very happy together, weren&#8217;t you? You
+were awfully in love with him, I mean. I&#8217;m not being
+impertinent, am I, Clara? You know I don&#8217;t intend
+to be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Henry, I understand. I don&#8217;t believe I&#8217;m the
+kind of woman who falls in love&mdash;at least, in the way
+most people mean. There&#8217;s nothing very violent about
+me except once in a while when I get to singing something
+which takes hold of me pretty hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Richard and I had a rather exciting little love
+affair, then after a while we both began to realize that
+we weren&#8217;t very romantic&mdash;in regard to people. He
+was passionately devoted to adventure of every kind,
+and I had a way of putting my best into music. I
+didn&#8217;t feel heart-broken when I found out that we
+really weren&#8217;t anything more than good friends and
+neither did he.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d cheerfully give all I&#8217;ve got to bring Dick back;
+I get lonesome for him&mdash;awfully. And yet, that isn&#8217;t
+exactly the sort of thing that the average person means
+by &#8216;love,&#8217; is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would have made me very happy once to know
+that you cared that much for me,&#8221; answered Hard,
+bitterly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I did. I always did, Henry. Only we were&mdash;so
+near, so much a part of each other&mdash;like cousins. I
+called it friendship instead of love,&#8221; cried Clara,
+warmly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What difference does it make what you call it?
+Two people like to be together, seem to fit into one another&#8217;s
+lives, isn&#8217;t that love?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></p>
+<p>Clara smiled. &#8220;It&#8217;s not the kind of love that Polly
+Street will give the man she marries,&#8221; she said. &#8220;You
+know that as well as I. And it&#8217;s not a matter of years,
+it&#8217;s temperament. An actress told me once that when
+it came to a question of comparison between her married
+life and her stage life, she could say instantly that
+it was her stage life that had meant the most to her.
+She was happily married, too. I&#8217;m a bit like her. I
+can get more downright exaltation over my music when
+it goes right than I ever got out of any love affair. I
+think my talent is for friendship rather than for love.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Clara,&#8221; Hard&#8217;s voice shook, &#8220;I tell you, you wrong
+yourself. Neither you nor that woman were happily
+married if&mdash;oh, I don&#8217;t want to be maudlin&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bless your heart, Henry, you couldn&#8217;t be, any more
+than I could. Perhaps it&#8217;s the New England conscience&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t a New England conscience,&#8221; replied
+Hard. &#8220;My conscience is as elastic and pleasantly
+disposed as an Irishman&#8217;s. Bunker Hill casts no blight
+upon me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Henry, this is all very nice; but I&#8217;m dying of
+hunger.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you be afraid to stay here if I go back to
+Casa Grande and fetch you something?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wild horses couldn&#8217;t hold me in this God-forsaken
+spot without you, Henry! Don&#8217;t think of it. I&mdash;I&#8217;ll
+go with you, though.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t walk it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then I&#8217;ll die on the road. But how about your
+knee?&#8221; She stopped in discouragement.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s a knee or two when you&#8217;re starving to
+death?&#8221; demanded Hard, with decision. &#8220;Come on,
+let&#8217;s start before I get any stiffer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They started out again, through the half darkness;
+walking slowly, for Hard limped painfully. He had
+helped himself to a stout staff which he found on the
+Soria veranda and which gave him some assistance.
+They were very silent; Hard, because his mind was
+still running on Clara&#8217;s words, Clara, because she was
+honestly puzzled over the situation, and her own feelings.</p>
+<p>She watched the tall, thin figure, limping along by
+her side, and again the old memories came back, as they
+had the night before in the darkness; memories of the
+days when he and she had played at love.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wasn&#8217;t in love with him, and yet, seeing him
+again, after all these years, it seems as though I must
+have been,&#8221; she thought, gently. &#8220;It&#8217;s friendship, and
+yet it&#8217;s more than friendship. It&#8217;s going to hurt dreadfully
+to go away again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Clara, one more word before we drop the subject;
+because I will drop it if it troubles you.&#8221; Hard&#8217;s voice
+came quietly through the darkness. &#8220;Don&#8217;t let us mistake
+each other again. I&#8217;ve tortured myself for fifteen
+years, wondering whether I should have let you go as
+I did, or have tried to hold you. Do you think, with
+fifteen years behind us, that we made a mistake?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara&#8217;s voice trembled as she answered: &#8220;No,
+Henry, I don&#8217;t. We were too young to understand
+each other. We needed experience&mdash;at least, I did. I
+don&#8217;t know,&#8221; she added, with a shadow of a laugh,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span>
+&#8220;whether it&#8217;s the romantic situation, my enfeebled condition,
+or your noble heroism, but I never felt more
+like being in love with you than I do this minute.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Honestly, Clara?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Honestly, Henry. If you give out on the road I
+shall try to emulate that husky woman in history who
+carried her husband on her back, do you remember?&#8221;
+Then, suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. &#8220;Henry,
+you&#8217;ve been awfully patient with me. If you really
+want to embark on the seas of matrimony with such a
+shaky thing as I am&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Clara, I never thought it would come about like
+this or I would have smashed this cussed knee ages
+ago! My dearest girl, my face is dirty and yours is
+dirtier, but I&#8217;m going to kiss you, and then we&#8217;ll take
+another whack at hobbling to Casa Grande.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The ranch-house stood dark and uninviting except
+for the dim light of the fire which shone through the
+broken windows of the living-room, but the sound of
+the piano came to their ears as they neared it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s composing,&#8221; said Clara, softly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, he would be,&#8221; said Hard, unsympathetically.
+&#8220;They always do work it off that way, don&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Work what off?&#8221; demanded Clara, instantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything that happens to them,&#8221; said Hard, cheerfully.
+&#8220;You artistic fellows are queer, you know,
+Clara. Don&#8217;t try to wriggle out of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shan&#8217;t,&#8221; replied Clara, promptly. &#8220;But let me
+warn you, my lad, you haven&#8217;t made me want to give up
+my music yet. I&#8217;m still going back to have a try at it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bully for you! Of course you are. And I&#8217;m going
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span>
+with you, either to help you do it, or to make you
+fall in love with me so deeply that you&#8217;ll want to give
+it up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara laughed softly and laid her hand on his arm.
+&#8220;Henry, if you can do that, I&#8217;ll be the happiest woman
+in the world. Please try!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVIII_BACK_TO_ATHENS' id='XVIII_BACK_TO_ATHENS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+<h3>BACK TO ATHENS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mendoza and Tom walked toward the Casa Grande
+ranch-house with fearful hearts.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dark as a pocket,&#8221; commented Tom. &#8220;You set
+down here, Mendoza, while I go around in back.&#8221;
+From the side, a faint light was visible from the dining-room
+of the house. &#8220;Hullo, what have we here?&#8221;
+ejaculated the engineer. At the same time, he saw a
+man&#8217;s figure coming toward him; a very familiar figure.
+&#8220;Hard!&#8221; he gasped, darting forward and knocking the
+load of firewood from Hard&#8217;s arms with the fervency
+of his greeting.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hullo, Tom!&#8221; Hard returned the handshake quite
+as heartily. &#8220;Glad to see you. We were beginning
+to think we were marooned on this place.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We?&#8221; Tom&#8217;s face lit up. &#8220;You&#8217;re all right? All
+of you? Didn&#8217;t none of you get killed by them
+Yaquis?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, didn&#8217;t Scott tell you?&#8221; demanded Hard, with
+sudden anxiety.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t seen Scott sence you all went off together,&#8221;
+said Tom, puzzled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on! Do you mean to say that they haven&#8217;t
+shown up yet? Scott and the girl?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I left Athens yestiddy morning. You see, I
+walked to Conejo and picked up Mendoza and his car.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You walked to Conejo!&#8221; Hard&#8217;s voice was
+awed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Twa&#8217;n&#8217;t much. I took my time. You see, the
+Chink brought us word that there was something going
+on over here. He seen the barn burning when he was
+up on the mesa, and he didn&#8217;t know what was up.
+He pretty nigh killed Cochise, so I had to walk. I
+knew there was no use coming here with no horses, so
+I went to Conejo. They&#8217;ve got martial law there.
+The Colonel&#8217;s a nice young feller, if he is a greaser,
+and he loaned me Mendoza and the Ford. Now what
+happened here, anyhow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard gave a brief outline of their adventures.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Conrad,&#8221; he said, &#8220;is an old friend of Herrick&#8217;s
+and mine, who&#8217;s had to leave her plantation in
+the South, and is on her way home. She is going East
+with Miss Street. She and I tried camping out at
+Soria&#8217;s last night after Gonzales left us, but we got
+starved out and we tramped it back here, waiting for
+someone to come after us. I&#8217;m lame as I can be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara&#8217;s face lit up when she saw the three men
+enter, and she shook hands cordially with Johnson and
+the old Mexican. Then an anxious look came into
+her eyes. Hard, seeing it, spoke quickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Johnson left Athens yesterday before Scott and
+Polly got there,&#8221; he said, reassuringly. &#8220;He walked
+to Conejo.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Walked to Conejo!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see, Tom, Mrs. Conrad and I walked here
+from Soria&#8217;s and we&#8217;ve both been crippled ever since.
+A walk to Conejo fills us with excited admiration.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></p>
+<p>Tom chuckled. &#8220;Well, I always could walk,&#8221; he
+replied. &#8220;Never done anything particular with the
+other end of me, but I could always depend on my
+feet. Say, folks, Mendoza&#8217;s got his car outside. How
+about a quick bite and then beating it for Athens?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara turned eagerly to Herrick.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll come, won&#8217;t you, Victor? I hate to think of
+your being here alone when everything is so upset.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Herrick smiled and patted her hand affectionately.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will give me no peace until I do, so I will go,&#8221;
+he said.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>It was a sober little crowd that sat around the dining-room
+table at Athens that night. Though their
+joy had been very great at the safe coming of Hard
+and Clara in Mendoza&#8217;s car, it had been tinged with
+gloom at the non-arrival of Scott and Polly. Jimmy
+Adams was reported much improved.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That Chinaman doesn&#8217;t cook any more,&#8221; confided
+Mrs. Van to Clara. &#8220;He&#8217;s had a rise in life and he
+just sits and meditates. Awful people to meditate&mdash;the
+Chinese. What they find to think about I can&#8217;t see,
+but it seems to make &#8217;em happy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clara&#8217;s mind, however, was upon the absent. &#8220;I
+can&#8217;t see what could have happened to them. They
+didn&#8217;t fall in with Angel Gonzales, that we know,&#8221; she
+said. &#8220;I&#8217;m dreadfully worried about them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello!&#8221; It was O&#8217;Grady&#8217;s voice. &#8220;Here comes
+horses down the road&mdash;two of them. I believe it&#8217;s our
+folks.&#8221; And he bolted out into the moonlight, followed
+by the others.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></p>
+<p>It was, and a more exhausted and bedraggled couple
+it would have been hard to find.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look like a pair of forty-niners,&#8221; said O&#8217;Grady,
+&#8220;on the last lap of the trip.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott rolled out of the saddle while Hard lifted Polly
+to her feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Coffee!&#8221; whispered the girl. &#8220;Is it really coffee
+that I smell?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gracious, I believe they&#8217;re starving,&#8221; gasped Mrs.
+Van, running into the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All we&#8217;ve had to-day is a cake of chocolate and
+some lumps of sugar,&#8221; said Scott, briefly. &#8220;Look
+after the horses, O&#8217;Grady, will you? They&#8217;ve had it
+pretty rough, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He was lame and sore from his fall of the day before,
+and tired and hungry from the day&#8217;s discomforts,
+but he managed to say enough to give them an idea
+of what had happened.</p>
+<p>&#8220;After I climbed out of the arroyo,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I
+didn&#8217;t know which way to go. If those fellows had
+got Polly I wanted to go after them; if they hadn&#8217;t&mdash;well,
+I didn&#8217;t dare take the chance that they hadn&#8217;t. I
+was pelting down the trail like a madman when I
+heard her voice calling me from up the trail.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We got on the horses and began climbing again,
+pretty well pleased with our luck, but the horses were
+all in. They&#8217;d been at it since early morning, climbing
+most of the time, and I saw that they weren&#8217;t going
+to make it. So I picked a good-looking spot near
+the head of the stream that we&#8217;d been following, and
+we camped there for the night, ate the rest of our
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span>
+sandwiches, and rolled up in our blankets. It wasn&#8217;t
+very comfortable but it was a case of needs must.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the morning I set out to find the trail again. It
+had pretty well disappeared&mdash;choked up by the brush.
+We fought our way through it all morning and finally
+lost it; struck out higher up on the mountain and came
+out on the barren side near the top. That&#8217;s all, except
+that we&#8217;ve been going since five this morning on nothing
+but a cake of chocolate that Polly found in her coat
+pocket and a few lumps of sugar.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I were going back to Chicago to live I believe
+I&#8217;d start soup kitchens for hungry people,&#8221; declared
+Polly, suddenly. &#8220;It&#8217;s the worst thing in the world&mdash;being
+hungry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you was&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Mrs. Van Zandt started suddenly
+and stopped equally so. Polly blushed. Scott
+came to the rescue.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We may as well tell &#8217;em while we&#8217;re telling
+our other troubles,&#8221; he suggested, and Polly told
+them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going home because he won&#8217;t marry me unless
+Father consents,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and he doesn&#8217;t seem to
+think a consent by wire is legal. But I&#8217;m coming
+back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I wish you good luck, I&#8217;m sure.&#8221; Mrs. Van
+Zandt leaned over and kissed Polly impulsively.
+&#8220;He&#8217;ll browbeat you a bit but he&#8217;ll stick by you.
+Guess I&#8217;ll make some more coffee,&#8221; and she bounced
+into the kitchen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gracious! Would you call that a congratulation?&#8221;
+gasped Polly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s a bona-fide one, my dear,&#8221; said Clara,
+gently. &#8220;I am sure you&#8217;ll be happy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The others laughed and joked while Clara and Hard
+kept their secret to themselves. Scott followed Mrs.
+Van Zandt into the kitchen with some empty cups and
+their voices could be heard talking earnestly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said the latter, as she returned, &#8220;I&#8217;ll say
+I think Mr. Scott&#8217;s idea a good one.&#8221; By a psychological
+process quite her own and quite unconsciously
+followed, Mrs. Van had promoted Scott to the dignity
+of the prefix upon hearing that he was engaged to the
+superintendent&#8217;s sister. &#8220;He&#8217;s hired Mendoza and that
+junk-pile of his to take you all to the border so&#8217;s you
+can get a train East without traveling on the Mexican
+railroads.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s like this,&#8221; Scott explained. &#8220;Tom says they
+told him at Conejo that the revolutionary government
+had taken over all the railroads, both Mexican and
+American, and is operating them. Now, we might
+make the trip all right&mdash;they say lots of refugees are
+coming North; but what&#8217;s the use? I&#8217;ll run over to
+Conejo and get them to let us keep Mendoza for a
+few days and perhaps we can get some sort of a safe
+conduct for the road from that military guy over there.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d rather have old Villa&#8217;s safe conduct than any
+of the rest of them; I think it cuts more ice with the
+population at large. But perhaps this chap can do
+something for us. We&#8217;ll try to hit the border at Chula
+Vista&mdash;the roads that way are pretty fair. Now,
+Hard, suppose you and I take a turn down the road
+and have a look at Jimmy before he goes to sleep.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Scotty,&#8221; they were outside and Hard spoke frankly,
+&#8220;I didn&#8217;t want to speak of it before the others, but
+Mrs. Conrad and I have made up our minds to undo
+an old mistake. We&#8217;ve going to try life together instead
+of apart.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hoped you would, Hard. She&#8217;s a fine woman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I say an old mistake, don&#8217;t misunderstand
+me,&#8221; continued Hard, soberly. &#8220;She and Dick Conrad
+were happy together. She loved him when she
+married him&mdash;and she didn&#8217;t love me. The mistake
+was mine, in not making her love me when I had the
+chance. I&#8217;ve got the chance again and I&#8217;m going to
+make good this time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re very lucky, Hard. Most fellows don&#8217;t get
+a second chance&mdash;with the same woman. Will she
+come back here with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. We&#8217;re going to be married in
+Chula Vista and she&#8217;s going home just as she had
+planned. I can&#8217;t go, of course, but as soon as Street
+comes back I&#8217;ll either go to her or she&#8217;ll come to me.
+She hasn&#8217;t given up her music and I don&#8217;t want her
+to. It&#8217;s all rather hazy, Scott. I only know that I let
+her get away from me once, and, selfish brute that I
+am, I&#8217;m going to tie her to me now while she&#8217;s in the
+humor.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIX_POLLY_MAKES_A_NEW_ACQUAINTANCE' id='XIX_POLLY_MAKES_A_NEW_ACQUAINTANCE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+<h3>POLLY MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Not far from the Mexican border lies the town of
+Chula Vista, New Mexico. It is a small town, does
+not even boast of a railroad connection nearer than
+twenty-five or thirty miles, being, like Conejo, on a bi-weekly
+spur; but it is a town of reputation and a not
+altogether blameable civic pride.</p>
+<p>It has borne its part in the border warfare with
+credit. It has slaughtered and been slaughtered, one
+might say, and rather enjoyed both proceedings.
+When, some years ago, a Mexican bandit raided Chula
+Vista and carried off a young woman, the citizens of
+the town organized an expedition, followed him across
+the line, and recovered the lady, none the worse for
+her experience; which proves not only that Chula Vista
+is a wide-awake town, but that some bandits are not
+as black as they are painted.</p>
+<p>Chula Vista, on the afternoon when our party entered
+it, duly chaperoned by the aged Mendoza, presented
+an everyday appearance. The Chula Vista
+Trading Company was doing its usual business, and,
+as this was before the days of prohibition, several saloons
+were doing what they could to relieve a universal
+thirst. An ambitious building of brick, the new
+schoolhouse, witnessed the fact that culture was believed
+in, even pursued.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span></p>
+<p>The other buildings were less imposing. There was
+the butcher&#8217;s place, a small adobe with a fenced-in
+yard. As Mendoza&#8217;s car drove past it, the butcher,
+with sanguinary intentions, was occupied in driving a
+wise and reluctant young steer around the yard. A
+little further along was the Roman Catholic Church&mdash;a
+Penitentes church, by the way, and the little house
+of Father Silva, who officiated. Further still was a
+long low building which had once been a livery stable,
+but which had been altered to meet the needs of a moving
+picture theatre, and the Commonwealth House,
+kept by Sam Penhallow, who varied the monotony of
+hotel keeping by exercising the duties of sheriff of the
+county. He it was who had crossed the line after the
+kidnapped young lady. The newspapers had featured
+him as a Texas Ranger, which he was not and never
+had been, but that was rather a near thing for a newspaper.</p>
+<p>Penhallow was a tall, thin, brown-skinned man, who
+wore checked suits and who had the long drooping
+mustache which fiction assigns to the calling of a
+sheriff. Whether fiction is right in this particular, or
+whether Sam wore the mustache to conform with the
+best standards, is not important. He was sitting in a
+tilted chair, on the narrow strip of flooring which
+served the hotel as a veranda when Mendoza and his
+party wheezed into view.</p>
+<p>Penhallow&#8217;s conventional welcome expanded into
+real warmth when he recognized Scott, who was well
+known in Chula Vista.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hullo,&#8221; he said, his hand outstretched. &#8220;If it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span>
+ain&#8217;t Marc Scott! Drive you out down there, did
+they? Well, Mendoza&mdash;blamed if I didn&#8217;t think you
+was dead long ago! No, I don&#8217;t guess I know
+the ladies or your other friend, but any friend of
+Scott&#8217;s has got the keys of the city all right.&#8221; He
+turned and called into the house: &#8220;Mabel, come out
+here!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One of these ladies, Miss Street, is on her way to
+Chicago,&#8221; said Scott. Polly, restored to good looks by
+a few days rest and her prettiest lace blouse, beamed
+on Mr. Penhallow with the usual result. &#8220;Mrs. Conrad,&#8221;
+continued Scott, &#8220;is a friend of ours and is going
+back with the young lady. No, we weren&#8217;t driven
+out but things are rather bad down yonder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you ladies sure have courage, travelin&#8217; round
+at this time,&#8221; said the admiring Penhallow. A tall
+pretty girl appeared in the doorway and was introduced
+as &#8220;my daughter, Mabel, who runs the ranch.
+Mabel, show these ladies the best rooms we&#8217;ve got.
+Give &#8217;em the bridal soot if you can find it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard, suitcases in hand, followed the women into
+the hotel, while Mendoza steamed away to a haunt of
+his own. Scott sank into an armchair and settled
+himself for a talk with Penhallow.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That young Street&#8217;s sister?&#8221; demanded the latter.</p>
+<p>Scott nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I heard Bob Street had married a Douglas girl?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He did.&#8221; Scott explained the situation in regard
+to Polly. &#8220;Her people are anxious about her and wrote
+her to come back at once, so we&#8217;re carrying out instructions.
+The other folks&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Scott paused and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span>
+surveyed the sheriff with an eye that twinkled. &#8220;Are
+you good at keeping secrets, Sam?&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I have kept &#8217;em,&#8221; replied Sam, modestly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, the lady is a widow, runs a ranch down
+South, and the tall chap is our chief engineer, a Boston
+man. They&#8217;re up here to get spliced before she
+goes East.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So! Well, no reason why they shouldn&#8217;t, I
+s&#8217;pose?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;None that I know of.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I kind of had a hunch &#8217;twas her and you when
+you got out of the car, Marc.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. You needn&#8217;t blush. You ain&#8217;t too old to
+think of settlin&#8217; down if you pick a woman that ain&#8217;t
+too young and giddy for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not asking your advice on matrimony, you old
+fool, I&#8217;m asking if you&#8217;ve got anybody in this one-horse
+place who can marry folks legally,&#8221; said Marc, touchily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The judge could, I guess, but in a case like this
+there&#8217;d be more tone to it if you had the Padre. We
+haven&#8217;t got any Protestant fellow here just now,&#8221; replied
+Penhallow, meditatively.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Padre&#8217;s the boy. I&#8217;ll go over and interview
+him now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t. He&#8217;s to a christening at some Mexican&#8217;s
+up the creek. Won&#8217;t be home till late.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, morning&#8217;s as good a time as any, I reckon,
+for a wedding,&#8221; said Scott, philosophically. &#8220;We&#8217;ve
+got to stay over anyhow, to see the women off. Tomorrow&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span>
+your train day, ain&#8217;t it? Or have you
+changed your schedule?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, we haven&#8217;t changed it,&#8221; replied Penhallow.
+&#8220;Only we don&#8217;t run on it much. We will to-morrow,
+though, because I&#8217;m sending a lot of hogs
+over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s good. Say, what do they think up here of
+the revolution?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which one?&#8221; with a chuckle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The new one. Looks like the real thing down
+yonder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, of course, we were looking for trouble before
+the elections. We never expected the old man to keep
+his hands off the ballot box and everyone knows the
+man he put up&mdash;Bonillas&mdash;has got no show. It&#8217;ll be
+Obregon, I s&#8217;pose?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s hard to say. I was in Conejo a couple of days
+ago and they said Sinaloa had followed Sonora and a
+good many of the other states would fall in line in a
+few days. Obregon&#8217;s broken away from Mexico City&mdash;guess
+you heard that&mdash;and they&#8217;re talking of De la
+Huerta for provisional president.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Know him? De la Huerta?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve seen him. He&#8217;s a young chap&mdash;some folks
+think he&#8217;s a radical&mdash;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Had any trouble at your place?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott narrated the proceedings of Juan Pachuca at
+some length and with some heat. &#8220;A military guy
+over in Conejo told me that he&#8217;d had orders to clean
+up the state, so when Tom wised him up to the fact
+that Pachuca and Angel Gonzales were doping it up
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span>
+to meet somewhere around Pachuca&#8217;s place, he sent a
+troop of men down there, cut Angel off and smashed
+up the whole business.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get their men?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got Angel, but Pachuca slid out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They let him probably.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Framed it up for him so&#8217;s not to hurt the feelings
+of any of his high-toned friends.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shouldn&#8217;t wonder. What time do you eat around
+here, Sam?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;ll six suit you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Suits me fine. I&#8217;ll go and break it to Hard that
+he can&#8217;t get married till morning. I suppose this
+Spanish chap won&#8217;t object to marryin&#8217; a couple of
+Presbyterians? That&#8217;s what they say they are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gosh, no, the Padre&#8217;s a regular fellow,&#8221; replied
+Penhallow, easily. &#8220;You give him his fee and he
+ain&#8217;t going to raise no rows.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The dining-room of Sam Penhallow&#8217;s hotel was a
+fair-sized room with one long dinner table and three
+small round ones. These latter were a concession to
+the habits of certain citizens who brought their sweethearts
+on the nights that Sam served chicken suppers
+and who were partial to parties carrés. It was to one
+of these small tables that Scott led his party. Altogether,
+thanks to the efforts of Mabel and her influence
+upon a certain invisible person whose identity changed
+often but who was always to be identified as the
+&#8220;help,&#8221; things were much better at the Commonwealth
+than one had a right to expect in a town the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span>
+size of Chula Vista. Compared to Conejo, it was like
+entering into the promised land.</p>
+<p>Mabel, herself, waited at table, and in the just
+opinion of most of the boarders, added fifty per cent,
+to the pleasure of the occasion. On this particular
+night the room was full and she had the assistance of
+a smiling young Mexican girl who waited on a company
+of her compatriots who sat at the farthest of the
+small tables. They had just ridden in&mdash;their horses
+could be seen outside at the rail. The back of the
+head of one of these gentlemen interested Polly immensely.
+There was something about it which reminded
+her strongly of Juan Pachuca.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do those Mexicans live in Chula Vista?&#8221; she
+asked Mabel, under cover of a laugh at one of Hard&#8217;s
+stories.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, they&#8217;re strangers,&#8221; replied the girl. &#8220;I think
+they come from a ranch out of town.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Of course it couldn&#8217;t be Pachuca! He was in hiding
+somewhere down yonder, and yet&mdash;the party was
+on her mind and she noticed it as it broke up and the
+men passed out of the dining-room. She caught a
+side view of the suspected one&mdash;it was Pachuca, without
+a doubt. Whether he saw her or not she could
+not say but if he did he avoided showing it.</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s first inclination was to call Scott&#8217;s attention
+to the Mexican; then she hesitated&mdash;it would mean
+trouble. There would be fighting and someone would
+be hurt. Scott&#8217;s back was toward them and he talked
+along quite innocent of the presence of Pachuca.
+While she hesitated the moment passed, the Mexicans
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span>
+were out of the room and she saw them mount their
+horses and ride off. Scott and Hard were still deep
+in argument. Whether Clara saw or not Polly could
+not tell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Marc,&#8221; Polly stopped beside him as they left the
+dining-room, &#8220;I&#8217;ve a nasty little headache&mdash;shall you
+mind if I go to bed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott, a bit surprised, replied in the negative and
+Polly went on, her hand on his arm coaxingly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you find out that the train goes to-morrow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do I have to go on it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no other way that I know of for you to
+go home.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You won&#8217;t come with me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t leave the property when your brother&#8217;s
+away; you know that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I suppose you can&#8217;t. It&#8217;s very trying, isn&#8217;t
+it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not what I&#8217;d like.&#8221; Scott, in spite of himself,
+smiled down into the serious eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, if I were as big as you and didn&#8217;t like a
+thing, I&#8217;d change it, that&#8217;s all. Good-night.&#8221; She ran
+up the stairs.</p>
+<p>Scott shrugged his shoulders and strode into the
+office of the hotel; the Commonwealth boasted no parlor&mdash;guests
+sat in the office or went to bed. Clara and
+Hard stood near the desk talking to Penhallow. Scott
+lit a cigarette and went outside. The narrow strip
+of veranda was vacant. He walked moodily up and
+down.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span></p>
+<p>Of course, if she had a headache&mdash;but it seemed
+queer to leave a fellow so early on their last evening
+together for no one knew how long. Perhaps she
+wouldn&#8217;t come back after all and he would wish that
+he hadn&#8217;t given the old life a chance to call her and
+keep her. Then he thought of the parents&mdash;never having
+had any of his own as far as memory went, Scott
+felt their claims strongly. He wanted the girl; wanted
+her so badly that his whole being ached to take advantage
+of her youth and impulsiveness; to make the
+wedding in the morning a double one.</p>
+<p>But Scott had not lived a hard life without learning
+to do without a thing if he chose to do without it; the
+thing might be a drink, it might be a horse, it might be
+a woman. Still, Polly might have stayed down and
+walked with him a while in the moonlight&mdash;it wasn&#8217;t
+much to ask. Hard and Clara had come out, the
+latter muffled in her long cloak, and were walking
+down Chula Vista&#8217;s main artery toward the Padre&#8217;s
+church. With a muttered exclamation, Scott dug his
+hands into his pockets and went inside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose I can sit in the office and gab with
+Sam,&#8221; he growled, but Sam had disappeared. Scott
+picked up a newspaper and lit another cigarette. Suddenly,
+the door opened and Clara, visibly excited, appeared,
+followed by Hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Scott, what do you think? We&#8217;ve just seen
+Juan Pachuca,&#8221; declared Clara.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure enough? I suppose he could slide over the
+border if he wanted to. Where&#8217;d you see him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was one of those three Mexicans who had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span>
+dinner at that other small table&mdash;so Clara says,&#8221; replied
+Hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your back was toward them,&#8221; went on Clara.
+&#8220;Henry&#8217;s never seen him, so of course he wouldn&#8217;t
+notice. I thought at the time that the man looked like
+Pachuca but I didn&#8217;t get a good view of him. We
+were going past that little saloon down near the church
+and they came out and rode off. He pretended not to
+see us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;d they go?&#8221; demanded Scott, with the dryness
+in his tone which always appeared when Pachuca
+was mentioned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Out of town&mdash;past the church. I&#8217;m going up to
+tell Polly what she&#8217;s missed,&#8221; said Clara, as she ran up
+the narrow little stairway. &#8220;Girls have changed&mdash;not
+a doubt about it,&#8221; she thought, whimsically. &#8220;Fancy
+spending the last evening they have together moping
+upstairs with a headache! Wonder if anything&#8217;s
+gone wrong?&#8221;</p>
+<p>A few moments later she was back in the office with
+the two men.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t find Polly,&#8221; she said, in alarm. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been
+to my room and to hers and she isn&#8217;t in either. Her
+hat and coat are gone, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott came out of his chair with a bound. &#8220;I knew
+that devil was here for no good,&#8221; he said, starting for
+the door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be a fool, Marc Scott!&#8221; Clara&#8217;s voice was
+sharp and angry. &#8220;We saw Pachuca and those two
+men go off on horseback. He hasn&#8217;t carried off
+Polly!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t say he&#8217;d carried her off,&#8221; said Scott, doggedly.
+&#8220;She sat where she could see him at dinner.
+You saw him&mdash;so did she&mdash;and he saw her. This riding
+off is a blind&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re going to be terribly ashamed of yourself
+for what you&#8217;re saying. I know that girl. She
+wouldn&#8217;t do a thing like that any more than I would.
+I&#8217;m going to see Mabel Penhallow and find out what
+she knows about it,&#8221; said Clara, angrily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to find that boy and choke the life out
+of him. Get out of my way, Hard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Scotty, that&#8217;s not the way to handle
+this affair,&#8221; remonstrated Hard, barring Scott&#8217;s
+progress toward the door and speaking with a warmth
+unusual to him. &#8220;Let&#8217;s get hold of Penhallow and
+tell him that Pachuca&#8217;s over on this side&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t need a sheriff to handle my affairs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;This isn&#8217;t your affair, it&#8217;s the Government&#8217;s. If
+this chap&#8217;s got the nerve to think he can come over
+here after the way he&#8217;s acted with American property
+it&#8217;s up to the Government to put him right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t find Mabel.&#8221; Clara had returned, her face
+worried. &#8220;The Mexican girl said she saw an automobile
+go by a quarter of an hour ago and that Polly
+was in it. A Mexican was driving and she thought
+there was another man in the car. Marc, he has kidnapped
+her!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Scott had burst out of the room, followed by
+Hard. Clara, pale and frightened, watched them from
+the window. Scott&#8217;s blood was boiling. At first, stung
+with a sense of injury at Polly&#8217;s treatment of him, he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span>
+had leaped to the jealous conclusion that she had seen
+and communicated with Pachuca. Scott was not a
+model lover. He was not of the type which believes
+always until convinced by proof. He was a hot-blooded,
+jealous, none too good tempered man, who
+lost his head very easily when he believed himself ill-treated.
+Now that he was beginning to realize that
+the affair might have a different complexion&mdash;that the
+girl had perhaps been overpowered and carried off&mdash;he
+was furious in another way, this time against Pachuca
+and against himself.</p>
+<p>Mendoza had left his car outside his favorite saloon
+but the car was gone and so was Mendoza.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought I could trust that old greaser but I guess
+I was wrong,&#8221; groaned Scott. &#8220;We&#8217;ll get horses from
+the stable, Hard, and perhaps they&#8217;ll know something
+about it there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Investigation revealed the fact that Mendoza had
+succeeded in getting his car out of town without attracting
+the attention of anyone but his dish-washing
+compatriot. When it leaked out that there was a kidnapping
+involved, the chivalrous instincts of Chula
+Vista were aroused. Horses were eagerly offered and
+a posse was to be formed as soon as Sam Penhallow
+could be located. Unfortunately, the only machine in
+town, owned by the sheriff, had been loaned that morning
+to Ed Merriam who had driven it over to the railroad
+junction. In an incredibly short time, Scott and
+Hard were clattering down the road which the three
+Mexicans had taken half an hour before.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s useless, of course,&#8221; grunted Scott &#8220;They&#8217;ll
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span>
+meet the car and shake the horses before we can get to
+them; but, by God, Hard, I&#8217;ll get that boy if I have to
+comb New Mexico for him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard was trying to be optimistic, but on a strange
+horse and with a lame knee, optimism came with difficulty.
+&#8220;I may be wrong, Scott,&#8221; he said, between
+jolts; &#8220;but Pachuca doesn&#8217;t seem to me to be just that
+kind of a scamp. He&#8217;d elope with your wife in a
+second if she gave him an opportunity, but I can&#8217;t
+seem to see him carrying off your sweetheart against
+her will. There is such a thing as type, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In Boston, maybe. Out here a man&#8217;s decent or he
+ain&#8217;t,&#8221; growled the other.</p>
+<p>Hard relapsed into reflection. The road they were
+traveling forked at about a mile out of town. Ahead
+of them, it continued on the flat; to their left it became
+narrower and wound toward the foothills, remaining,
+however, a road possible for a car or a wagon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which?&#8221; queried Hard, looking ahead as the fork
+became visible.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The left,&#8221; replied Scott. &#8220;They&#8217;ll hit out for
+the hills. The other road goes along the railroad
+tracks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think so,&#8221; muttered Hard. &#8220;I think they&#8217;ll
+stick to a good road.&#8221; But Scott had spurred his
+horse. Hard followed him a moment in silence, then
+he called: &#8220;Scott, I hear a machine! By Jove, I see
+it&mdash;it&#8217;s coming toward us, down the main road.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott pulled up his horse. They peered into the
+dusk ahead of them. The car was coming toward
+them.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You brought a gun, I suppose?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>Hard nodded. &#8220;What do we do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold &#8217;em up.&#8221; They pulled their horses down to
+a walk. &#8220;No headlights,&#8221; observed Scott. &#8220;We&#8217;ll
+keep this side of that little rise. If they haven&#8217;t seen
+us, they won&#8217;t see us till they&#8217;re on us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t shoot, I trust, until we know who they
+are,&#8221; suggested Hard, mildly. &#8220;It strikes me they&#8217;re
+going the wrong way for our men.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They may be going to turn at the fork. If it&#8217;s
+not them, it&#8217;s someone who can tell us if the Mexicans
+have gone this way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The car, a small one, pulled up the hill and started
+down toward Chula Vista. Scott rode into the middle
+of the road.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop!&#8221; he called, authoritatively. The car
+stopped. It was driven by a fat man who was its only
+occupant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter with you fools?&#8221; he demanded,
+angrily. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you know this here&#8217;s the sheriff&#8217;s
+car?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott lowered his gun. &#8220;That so?&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;Then I suppose you&#8217;ll be Ed Merriam?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What business of yours is it?&#8221; replied Merriam,
+disgustedly, though apparently relieved at the removal
+of the weapon. Hard rode up quickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing, only we&#8217;re out after a bunch of Mexicans
+who have kidnapped a young lady,&#8221; he explained.
+&#8220;We thought we had them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;See anything of a Ford car up the road?&#8221; demanded
+Scott.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Say, who&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Or any Mexicans on horseback?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott turned to Hard. &#8220;I told you they&#8217;d taken the
+other road.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here,&#8221; demanded the fat man, excitedly.
+&#8220;Is this an honest-to-gosh kidnapping? I say, it ain&#8217;t
+Mabel Penhallow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, it ain&#8217;t,&#8221; grunted Scott. &#8220;Will you loan us
+that car for a couple of hours?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet&mdash;pile in. Say, you boys give me an awful
+start. I&#8217;m going to marry that girl.&#8221; Merriam wiped
+his brow in relief.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I&#8217;m going to marry the girl those brutes have
+carried off,&#8221; replied Scott, dismounting and turning his
+horse loose. Hard followed his example.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, why didn&#8217;t you say so at first?&#8221; demanded
+Merriam, as they got into the car. &#8220;Man&#8217;s a gabby
+animal, ain&#8217;t he? Which way&#8217;d they go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Up in the hills, we think,&#8221; replied Hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It ain&#8217;t much of a road,&#8221; said the driver, doubtfully.
+&#8220;Still, if they can make it with one car we can
+with another, I reckon. Goes up Wildcat Canyon after
+a bit; nobody living up there since that old Mexican
+died. Say, d&#8217;you suppose they&#8217;d take her up to that
+old cabin? Gosh, we&#8217;d better hit it up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was silence in the rear of the car. The two
+men saw in imagination the helpless girl and the tiny
+remote cabin. Scott leaned forward, devouring the
+road with despairing eyes. Hard sat beside him, quiet
+except when he answered Merriam&#8217;s questions, sparing
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span>
+Scott, whose impatience and irritation made speech unendurable.</p>
+<p>The new road led directly into the foothills. It was
+narrow and very rough. The travelers were shaken
+about like marbles in a boy&#8217;s pocket. Wildcat Canyon,
+into which the road ran, was of a real loneliness&mdash;a
+loneliness that penetrated one&#8217;s consciousness like an
+odor or a sound. On either side the foothills rose,
+dark and forbidding; to the left of the road a deep
+arroyo ran; on the other, the slope of the hill rose
+gradually to the sky line. Ahead, the hills seemed to
+come together as the road became narrower and wound
+in and out, becoming finally a trail. There was no
+trace of habitation to be seen, though here and there
+a few range cattle wandered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cabin&#8217;s about two miles up the canyon,&#8221; volunteered
+Merriam. &#8220;Can&#8217;t see it from here, the road
+winds too much.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott interrupted him suddenly. &#8220;There they are!&#8221;
+he cried, pointing up the road. Three horsemen were
+riding rapidly in the same direction with the car.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s not with them, Scott,&#8221; Hard said, thankfully.</p>
+<p>Scott did not answer. In his mind, he still saw the
+auto with the girl in it, going toward the cabin up the
+canyon. Well, at all events, Juan Pachuca would not
+reach that cabin alive! Merriam threw the car into
+its full speed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve piped us&mdash;see &#8217;em cross the arroyo,&#8221; he
+said. It was true. The three riders had plunged into
+the depths of the arroyo and were out on the other
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span>
+side. They did not seem to be running away, but kept
+to the rapid trot which they had been riding.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t know who we are and aiming to give us the
+idea that they&#8217;re out for a little moonlight ride,&#8221; remarked
+Merriam. &#8220;This car can go, can&#8217;t she?
+Sam&#8217;d sure be sore if he knew I was runnin&#8217; her
+like this. Why don&#8217;t we beat it up to the cabin
+and get the girl and let them mosey along by themselves?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because we don&#8217;t know that&#8217;s where they&#8217;ve taken
+her,&#8221; said Scott, angrily. He concluded that Merriam
+had guessed right. Pachuca had no particular reason
+to believe that the car held his enemies, or even that
+Scott and Hard knew him guilty of Polly&#8217;s disappearance.
+They would safeguard themselves by riding
+on the other side of the arroyo but they evidently did
+not intend to be scared out of their road to any further
+extent.</p>
+<p>The car was rapidly catching up with the riders and
+soon things must come to a showdown. Scott fingered
+his gun lovingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hey, you guys, where you heading for?&#8221; demanded
+Merriam, loudly, as the car came almost
+abreast of the three. They turned as the machine
+slowed down to their pace. Before they could answer,
+Scott was out of the car and had them covered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pachuca, it&#8217;s no use&mdash;we&#8217;ve got you,&#8221; he called.
+&#8220;Hands up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The two Mexicans who evidently understood little
+English, though the magic words, &#8220;hands up,&#8221; probably
+penetrated their darkness, glanced at Pachuca for
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span>
+orders. The latter turned his horse and rode to the
+edge of the arroyo. He was his usual jaunty self, a
+little travel worn, but not dulled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Señor Scott?&#8221; he asked, peering through the dusk.
+&#8220;What do you want?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott paused for a moment, daunted by the other&#8217;s
+impudence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We want you, Pachuca,&#8221; said Hard, peremptorily.
+&#8220;Come quietly and don&#8217;t force us to use our guns&mdash;we
+don&#8217;t want to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca slid gracefully from his horse and took a
+few steps nearer the edge. &#8220;What&#8217;s the trouble?&#8221; he
+demanded. &#8220;I won&#8217;t come over till I know what you
+want. We&#8217;ve got our guns, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a cool one!&#8221; murmured Merriam, admiringly.
+While Pachuca had drawn the attention of the Americans
+by his sudden move in their direction, his two
+friends had ridden up behind him and stood with their
+guns ready for action. It looked like a deadlock.
+Scott dropped his gun to his side.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, put up your guns,&#8221; he said, his voice
+dangerously calm. &#8220;We&#8217;ll talk it over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Mexicans got the idea if not the words and
+lowered their weapons.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know what I want you for,&#8221; Scott went on,
+angrily. &#8220;Where is she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She?&#8221; Pachuca&#8217;s assumption of ignorance was
+masterly. It almost convinced Hard. &#8220;Who do you
+mean?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean Miss Street. You&#8217;ve kidnapped her or else
+your friends in Mendoza&#8217;s car have and you&#8217;re on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span>
+your way to join them. We want to know where.
+Come, you can&#8217;t get away with it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve not seen the girl since that night at Athens&mdash;yes,
+I saw her to-night for a moment but I did not
+speak to her. I am here on business of my own with
+these gentlemen. If you have an officer of the law
+with you I&#8217;ll show him my papers. If you haven&#8217;t,
+I&#8217;ll go on. If you shoot, we&#8217;ll shoot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anyone would think he had papers,&#8221; murmured
+Hard to Merriam.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, mebbe he has. They ain&#8217;t so hard to get.
+What I want to know is how are we going to get him
+into the car?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Scott tried to swallow his desire to choke the slim
+youth on the other side. &#8220;Come, Pachuca,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;this won&#8217;t get you anywhere. Either tell us where
+the girl is and go your way, or come over here and
+fight it out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know where she is. As for fighting&mdash;well,
+if I kill you what do I get out of it? Also, you
+might quite possibly kill me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I only knew she was in the cabin, he could go
+and welcome,&#8221; was rushing through Scott&#8217;s brain.
+&#8220;But I don&#8217;t and I mustn&#8217;t let him get away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Suddenly, a sound broke upon their ears&mdash;the sound
+of an automobile. It was coming down the canyon
+and coming fast. Merriam seized his horn.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We can&#8217;t have &#8217;em coming down on us in this
+narrow place!&#8221; he cried, honking furiously. The
+other car answered. The Mexicans turned at the
+sound and Pachuca, casting a hurried glance at them
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span>
+over his shoulder, reached for his bridle. Scott raised
+his gun instantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You stay where you are!&#8221; he yelled. &#8220;If those
+are your people we&#8217;ll get the lot of you; if they&#8217;re not
+we&#8217;ve got you, anyhow, <i>sabe</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Pachuca gave one look at Scott and another at his
+flying friends. Then he threw himself upon his horse&#8217;s
+back, thrust the spur in deep, and as the horse reared,
+drew his gun. His shot and Scott&#8217;s rang out together
+as they had done once before in front of the store at
+Athens&mdash;but with a different result. Pachuca reeled,
+recovered, spurred the horse again and tore off in the
+direction taken by the flying Mexicans; Scott stood
+looking furiously at him for a moment then staggered
+to the machine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He got me, Henry,&#8221; he muttered, as he toppled
+over. &#8220;Look after the girl.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And the other machine came rumbling on through
+the dusk.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XX_TREASURE_TROVE' id='XX_TREASURE_TROVE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+<h3>TREASURE TROVE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Polly Street went up to her room after leaving
+Scott but she did not go to bed. Nor did she behave
+in any way which suggested an alarming amount of
+headache. Instead, she opened her window and looked
+out. Her first glance showed Scott pacing scowlingly
+up and down the narrow veranda. Further down the
+street she saw Mendoza&#8217;s car parked in front of its
+owner&#8217;s favorite saloon, next door, in fact, to the
+butcher&#8217;s, in whose yard hung the remains of the steer&mdash;an
+unhappy evidence of the truth of the adage that
+in the midst of life we are in death. Mendoza was not
+visible, but it needed no stretch of the imagination to
+locate him.</p>
+<p>With a little sigh of satisfaction, Polly withdrew her
+head and remained a moment in thought; then she ran
+downstairs again. A cautious peep into the office
+showed Clara and Hard in conversation with Sam
+Penhallow. She glided into the dining-room where
+she found the good-looking Mabel finishing the clearing
+off of the tables. Polly looked winningly into the
+tall girl&#8217;s eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want awfully to speak to your father about something;
+do you suppose you could get him into the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span>
+dining-room without anyone&#8217;s knowing? I want to
+consult him in his official capacity,&#8221; she added with
+dignity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; said Mabel, surveying her guest calmly.
+&#8220;Do you mean as the sheriff or as the boss of this
+hotel? Because if it&#8217;s that, you can see me. I&#8217;m the
+real boss.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, as the sheriff, of course,&#8221; replied Polly, hastily.
+&#8220;Anybody could see that you ran this hotel. It&#8217;s much
+too well handled to be a man&#8217;s job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; the tall girl unbent a trifle, &#8220;I don&#8217;t mind
+telling you that I think so myself. Of course, as a
+sheriff Papa is all right. You wait here and I&#8217;ll fetch
+him and look after the office till you&#8217;re through with
+him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In a moment or two Sam Penhallow entered the dining-room,
+his good-natured face a trifle puzzled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mabel said&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he began.</p>
+<p>Polly smiled. &#8220;Yes, isn&#8217;t she clever at managing
+things? You see, Mr. Penhallow, it&#8217;s a case of &#8216;Kind
+Captain, I&#8217;ve important information.&#8217; Won&#8217;t you sit
+down?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sam sat down.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the first place, one of those Mexicans who had
+dinner here to-night is Juan Pachuca&mdash;the man who
+held up our mine a few days ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What? Why didn&#8217;t you say so before? I&#8217;d
+have&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t think quick enough,&#8221; admitted Polly, &#8220;and
+for another thing I knew that if Mr. Scott saw him
+there would be trouble. He has reasons for disliking
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span>
+Pachuca&mdash;apart from the raid, at least, he thinks he
+has.&#8221; Polly blushed in spite of herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I get you,&#8221; responded Penhallow, instantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought you would. You seem to me like that
+sort of a man. Now, I want to ask you something;
+did you ever hear of a Mexican named &#8216;Gasca&#8217; who
+lived around here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Penhallow, a little mystified, seemed to be thinking.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A Mexican who had an Indian wife and who was
+murdered?&#8221; went on Polly. Much to her disappointment,
+this minute description did not seem to clear
+Sam&#8217;s mind.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see, that fits so many of them,&#8221; he said, apologetically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The wife died after he was killed,&#8221; hazarded the
+girl, anxiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on&mdash;you mean the old duffer who lived up
+Wildcat Canyon?&#8221; demanded Penhallow. &#8220;Woman
+had a stroke&mdash;they found her up there dead. Their
+name was &#8216;Gasca&#8217; or &#8216;Gomez&#8217; or something of that
+kind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew it!&#8221; Polly&#8217;s voice was triumphant. &#8220;If
+I don&#8217;t make Marc Scott apologize to me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Then,
+calming herself, she continued: &#8220;I&#8217;m going to spin you
+a yarn, Mr. Penhallow, and then you&#8217;ve got to help me
+out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fire away,&#8221; said the gallant Penhallow and Polly
+repeated as nearly as she could remember the tale that
+Juan Pachuca had told her that night in Athens. Penhallow&#8217;s
+eyes snapped.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;By gum, I bet you&#8217;re on the trail! He and those
+Mexicans are looking up the stuff.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course they are, but why do they come on
+horseback? They can&#8217;t carry bullion on their saddles.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They probably don&#8217;t more than half believe the
+yarn themselves,&#8221; said Sam, meditatively. &#8220;They&#8217;re
+just snooping round to see if there&#8217;s anything in it.
+And automobiles ain&#8217;t so common round here that you
+can pick one up every time you feel like hunting
+treasure, either. I own the only one in town and I
+loaned it to-day to a good-for-nothing guy that&#8217;s
+courtin&#8217; Mabel, worse luck!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve got Mendoza and his Ford,&#8221; said Polly,
+eagerly. &#8220;If I run up and get my hat and coat, will
+you slip down and pry him out of that saloon and the
+three of us run out to Wildcat Canyon before those
+Mexicans can get there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet I will,&#8221; replied the willing Sam.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mr. Penhallow, you&#8217;re the kind of man that I
+admire!&#8221; Polly&#8217;s eyes shone. &#8220;You&#8217;ve got imagination&mdash;it&#8217;s
+the only thing Marc Scott hasn&#8217;t got.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; grinned Penhallow, &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t worry
+about that if I was you; it ain&#8217;t such an awful good
+quality to marry. My wife used to kick about it a
+whole lot.&#8221; But Polly was gone. &#8220;I knew it!&#8221; chuckled
+Sam. &#8220;I knew Scotty was meditatin&#8217; matrimony
+by the way he jumped me. Fine girl, that. For ten
+cents I&#8217;d give him a run for his money.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Faced with the alternative of driving his car or allowing
+someone else to do it, Mendoza capitulated and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span>
+allowed Penhallow to coax him out of the saloon.
+They drove down the street back of the houses and
+were joined by Polly who was waiting in the shadow
+for them. The Mexican girl saw the car as it passed
+the kitchen window, as she afterward told Clara, but
+failed to recognize Penhallow who sat on the further
+side.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do we have to pass the Mexicans or can we go
+another way?&#8221; asked Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We can take another road and beat them to the
+fork,&#8221; said Penhallow. &#8220;Then we&#8217;ll have the canyon
+to ourselves. This way, Mendoza.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know, Mr. Penhallow, this gold was stolen
+from one of the mines owned by our company,&#8221; said
+the girl. &#8220;That&#8217;s one reason I&#8217;m so anxious to find it.
+It will mean something to my brother.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure it will.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There ought to be a reward, oughtn&#8217;t there? Not
+that I care about that; the excitement&#8217;s enough for
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fond of excitement, are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid so. I&#8217;ll have to get over that, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not if you marry Marc Scott,&#8221; said Marc&#8217;s loyal
+friend, quite forgetting his sinister intentions.
+&#8220;There&#8217;s nothing tame about Marc. I&#8217;d hate to be the
+woman who tried to fool him. She would have some
+job on her hands.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, she&#8217;d have to be cleverer than I am to do it,&#8221;
+sighed Polly, sadly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t know. Say, what&#8217;s your idea of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span>
+finding this junk, anyhow? Where d&#8217;you reckon it&#8217;d
+be? Above ground?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly looked a bit taken back. &#8220;I never thought of
+that,&#8221; she admitted. &#8220;It&#8217;s the first time I ever hunted
+treasure. Where do you think it will be?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, if you want the truth, I ain&#8217;t looking for it
+to be there at all. My idea is that Gasca got rid of it
+and that&#8217;s why they killed him. And yet&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kind of funny the woman hung around after he
+died. The natural thing would have been for her to
+have gone back to her people, wouldn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course it would. I know it&#8217;s there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you know it&#8217;s there it&#8217;s a pity I didn&#8217;t bring
+along a couple of pickaxes,&#8221; said Sam, with a grin.
+&#8220;All the treasures I ever heard about called for pickaxes,
+skeletons and an old family chart.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, have it your own way!&#8221; said the aggravated
+Polly. &#8220;But who, I&#8217;d like to know, would have come
+up to this lonely place to look for gold, and how could
+an ignorant old Mexican like Gasca dispose of it without
+getting into trouble?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, mebbe so. Anyhow, here&#8217;s your cabin.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The cabin was situated up the canyon on the right
+hand side of the road. It was a little wooden shack,
+sagging and discolored, its windows broken and its
+whole appearance denoting that utter desolation to
+which only a deserted homestead can attain; not even
+a human wreck can equal this silent abandonment. It
+had been a fairly decent place once; there were outbuildings
+which evidenced past association with pigs
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span>
+and chickens, while back of the house stood a wooden
+cart such as country people use for hauling wood or
+hay.</p>
+<p>In the dusk, that saddest of sad times, between sunset
+and moonrise, Wildcat Canyon presented an awesome
+appearance. The hills were outlined sharply and
+darkly against the sky; the little stream that dribbled
+past the cabin was so quiet that it seemed the ghost of
+water; there was no movement&mdash;no sound&mdash;no suggestion
+of life.</p>
+<p>Polly drew a long breath. &#8220;What a dreadful place
+to live!&#8221; she murmured, her spirits dashed for a moment.
+A woman had lived here&mdash;a woman stolen
+from her people. Had lived&mdash;and, stricken and alone,
+had died here. Polly thought of her own spoiled and
+sheltered life and her eyes filled.</p>
+<p>In the meantime, Sam Penhallow took in the view
+with intense disfavor. &#8220;I never was partial to Wildcat
+Canyon,&#8221; he remarked, pessimistically. &#8220;I caught
+a cattle thief up here once. He hid behind that rock
+and gave us a real nasty time before we got him. Well,
+since we&#8217;re here we may as well get busy. Can&#8217;t you
+get us a little nearer, Mendoza? This is pretty far to
+tote gold bars.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, laugh if you want to,&#8221; said Polly, indulgently.
+&#8220;Since I&#8217;ve seen the place I&#8217;m sure it&#8217;s here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll say this,&#8221; remarked Penhallow, &#8220;if I had anything
+I wanted to hide and didn&#8217;t want any fools
+blunderin&#8217; into, I couldn&#8217;t pick a likelier place to hide
+it in than this one&mdash;whether it was gold or a body.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mendoza ran them within a few yards of the hut and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span>
+they got out. Gasca&#8217;s late residence did not improve
+on closer inspection. The door hung loosely on its
+hinges and once within, its dark recesses suggested
+many things not altogether pleasant. There was little
+furniture and that broken and poor; the hut boasted
+two rooms and the floor was merely the ground. There
+was nothing to suggest hidden treasure, and no place
+where it could be secreted as far as the visitors could
+see. Even the fireplace yielded no secrets.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How stupid of us!&#8221; declared Polly, determined
+not to be discouraged. &#8220;Of course it wouldn&#8217;t be in
+here or they would have found it when they took the
+poor woman away. Let&#8217;s go outside and think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My idea is that it&#8217;s either buried or they got rid
+of it,&#8221; said Penhallow, promptly. It had suddenly occurred
+to him that Mendoza was a poor chaperon for a
+good-looking widower&mdash;not old&mdash;and a pretty girl engaged
+to Marc Scott. It was a disturbing idea, for
+Sam was of a conventional turn of mind. &#8220;If he&#8217;s
+buried it, we&#8217;ll have to dig all over the place, and I take
+it none of us is much on the dig.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait a minute, I&#8217;ve got an idea myself,&#8221; said
+Polly, with dignity. &#8220;You look in the chicken-house
+and I&#8217;ll take a peep into the shed in the corral.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sam shrugged his shoulders and started for the
+chicken-house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Scott&#8217;s gettin&#8217; his match all right,&#8221; he muttered,
+rebelliously. &#8220;Goin&#8217; to make him toe the chalk line,
+that girl.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Penhallow, come here!&#8221; Polly&#8217;s voice was
+shrill and excited. &#8220;Come here!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Comin&#8217;, lady. Did you find it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here.&#8221; Polly was at the side of an old cart,
+peering and poking through the sticks of wood and
+bits of old straw which filled it. &#8220;See, down there&mdash;doesn&#8217;t
+that look to you like something?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sam Penhallow felt a sudden thrill; a thrill he had
+not known the like of since he led the posse across the
+border after the kidnapping bandit. He bent an excited
+gray eye over the hole indicated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure does look like there was somethin&#8217; besides
+wood in there&mdash;somethin&#8217; bulky, and there&#8217;s some
+sacking.&mdash;Hi, Mendoza, come here and lend a
+hand!&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the meantime he and Polly began throwing the
+wood out of the wagon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My idea is that Gasca hid it in the wagon because
+he thought no one would suspect anything there,&#8221; said
+Polly, &#8220;and he could haul it away in a hurry if they
+did.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s more likely he buried it and after he died the
+woman dug it up and packed it in here meaning to go
+South with it and then got sick and died before she had
+the chance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I said you had imagination. That&#8217;s a much
+better theory than mine,&#8221; said Polly, generously.
+&#8220;But why didn&#8217;t somebody take the wagon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it ain&#8217;t much of a wagon. I reckon they
+took the horse and the pigs and chickens and let the
+rest slide. The wood don&#8217;t amount to much; just
+sticks she&#8217;s picked up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mendoza, quite of the opinion that the couple whom
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span>
+up to this time he had suspected of nothing more
+alarming than an elopement, had suddenly gone very
+mad, stolidly chucked wood out of the wagon lest a
+worse thing be demanded of him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; The three gathered around the half-empty
+wagon in excitement, even Mendoza manifesting
+a slight degree of zest when through the layer of straw,
+half covered with sacking, was revealed a number of
+rough looking blocks, in shape resembling large loaves
+of bread. Penhallow lifted one with difficulty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what it is, girl,&#8221; he cried, his eyes glistening.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s gold straight from the mine. Why, what&#8217;s the
+matter?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s so disappointing,&#8221; murmured the girl; &#8220;it looks
+like old junk.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s pretty good old junk. I only wish it was
+mine, don&#8217;t you, Mendoza? This stuff, Mendoza, all
+belongs to some rich guys who own a lot of mines
+down yonder. Big, fat chaps who sit in easy chairs
+back of mahogany tables and let other fellows earn
+their money for them; fine business, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mendoza grinned&mdash;a comprehending if not a lovely
+grin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Si</i>,&#8221; he grunted. &#8220;I seen them fat fellers up in
+San Antone. All got de sickness of de kidney or de
+stomach. Me, I rather be poor man and live on de
+outside.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that ain&#8217;t bad for an old heathen, eh, Miss
+Polly?&#8221; chuckled Penhallow. &#8220;Come on, we&#8217;ve got
+to load this stuff into the Ford before those greasers
+get here.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;How much do you think there is?&#8221; asked Polly,
+eagerly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I don&#8217;t know&mdash;a few thousands, I guess. I&#8217;ve
+a notion old Gasca had to whack up with the fellows
+who helped him get it across. It&#8217;s no fortune but it&#8217;s
+going to give us lame backs moving it and I reckon
+the Company will be glad to see it again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was a hard load to move and long before the
+transfer was made Polly acknowledged that she was
+glad they hadn&#8217;t made a bigger haul. It was growing
+darker, too, and Wildcat Canyon began to seem less
+and less the sort of place for a picnic.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, little lady,&#8221; observed Penhallow, as they
+started down the canyon, &#8220;you&#8217;ve done a good
+night&#8217;s work for your brother. Say, Mendoza, don&#8217;t
+that look like a car to you down yonder?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly sat up suddenly. &#8220;I thought you said that
+you owned the only car in town?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do. That&#8217;s why I&#8217;ve a notion that that&#8217;s mine,
+though why Ed Merriam should be flourishin&#8217; it around
+here, I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Car, yes,&#8221; agreed Mendoza. &#8220;Make &#8217;em back
+up. Can&#8217;t pass there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At the same moment the other car honked excitedly
+and Mendoza answered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are some men on horseback there, aren&#8217;t
+there?&#8221; said Polly, straining her eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;On the other side of the arroyo&mdash;yes. Hullo,
+guns! Say, Ed&#8217;s in trouble! Shake a leg, Mendoza&mdash;we
+got to look into this. Girlie, you can lie down if
+they shoot, do you hear?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; breathed Polly, excitedly.</p>
+<p>They could see plainly now. They saw two of the
+mounted men dash off and the other, reeling in his
+saddle, but holding gamely to his seat, dash after them.
+Then they saw two men from the automobile spring
+to support the third who had fallen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gosh, I hope that ain&#8217;t Ed!&#8221; said Penhallow. &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t like the guy much, but Mabel would have my
+blood if I let him get plugged and me on the spot doing
+nothing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not Merriam,&#8221; said Mendoza, darkly. &#8220;Merriam
+and Señor Hard carry the man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on!&#8221; But Penhallow was too slow. The
+car was slowing down and Polly was out in the road.
+Penhallow followed her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is&mdash;is he killed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hard looked up from his task of reviving Scott,
+with the contents of his whiskey flask and saw to his
+amazement a white-faced Polly Street bending over
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Polly!&#8221; he gasped. &#8220;Then they didn&#8217;t get you,
+after all?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is he killed?&#8221; The girl&#8217;s voice was sharp and
+hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, he ain&#8217;t,&#8221; Penhallow&#8217;s hearty voice broke in.
+&#8220;It takes more than one bullet to kill a tough bird like
+Scotty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Marc opened his eyes, grinned feebly and shut them
+again, not before he had seen Polly&#8217;s anxious face
+bending over him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&mdash;Pachuca didn&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a bit of it, old man,&#8221; Hard broke in. Then
+to Polly: &#8220;We thought Pachuca had carried you off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly stared at him in horror. &#8220;Carried me off?&#8221;
+she gasped. &#8220;Were those men&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; she paused,
+dazed. Hard explained.</p>
+<p>Sam Penhallow in the meantime had tackled his
+prospective son-in-law.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;d they get him, Ed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shoulder. Don&#8217;t look to me like no vital spot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, we ain&#8217;t all got our vitals as protected as
+you have, Ed,&#8221; replied the sheriff, scathingly. &#8220;What
+was you up here for, anyhow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Scott got it into his head that his girl had been
+kidnapped by Mexicans and he got us up here after
+three of &#8217;em. Looks to me, Father-in-law, like he&#8217;d
+picked the wrong kidnapper.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;ll do, Ed; fat folks was made to look funny,
+not to talk smart. Here, let&#8217;s get this boy bandaged
+up before he bleeds to death.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly, white and frightened, looked on as Penhallow&#8217;s
+experienced hands tore up a shirt and made it
+into a bandage. The wound looked very vital to her
+and she would have given up hope a dozen times if
+it hadn&#8217;t been for Penhallow&#8217;s cheerful monologue.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the idea! Say, you boys better guess what
+this girl and I got in that Ford. We&#8217;ve been after
+treasure. Oh, you&#8217;re waking up, are you?&#8221; as Scott
+opened his eyes. &#8220;I thought you would. You won&#8217;t
+josh your wife much about Gasca and his hidden gold,
+I&#8217;m thinkin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all my fault,&#8221; wept the girl. &#8220;If I&#8217;d only
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span>
+told you where I was going this wouldn&#8217;t have happened.
+Oh, Marc, I&#8217;m so sorry!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you ain&#8217;t the only one that&#8217;s sorry, I reckon,&#8221;
+grinned Merriam. &#8220;That Mexican ain&#8217;t going to do
+much ridin&#8217; for a while by the looks of him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; Penhallow and Hard lifted Scott
+gently into the car. &#8220;Don&#8217;t worry about him. He&#8217;s
+had this coming to him for some time by all accounts
+and the worst of it is his hide&#8217;s probably so tough he
+won&#8217;t know it&#8217;s been punctured.&#8221; Penhallow spat
+disgustedly.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>The return of the two cars, the one with the treasure
+and the other with the missing girl, made a sensation
+quite after Chula Vista&#8217;s own heart. When it became
+known that the doctor had pronounced Scott&#8217;s wound
+not dangerous but requiring care and quiet, the situation
+was all that could be desired. They would have
+been happier still could they have heard Polly&#8217;s ultimatum,
+delivered the following morning when she and
+Scott were alone together a few minutes before Clara&#8217;s
+wedding. Scott had insisted that the wedding should
+not be postponed for even a day.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re needed in Athens, Hard,&#8221; he said. &#8220;With
+Bob and me both in the discard, you&#8217;ve got to stand
+by the ship.&#8221; So the wedding had been set for ten
+o&#8217;clock, Polly&#8217;s train leaving for the railroad junction
+at noon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, Marc, listen to me,&#8221; Polly said. Her tone
+was severe. &#8220;I&#8217;ve never been really stern with you
+since our acquaintance. I&#8217;ve always given in and let
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span>
+you have the biggest piece of cake. Now I mean
+what I say. I&#8217;m not going back and leave you here,
+sick and alone. Besides, Mrs. Conrad changed her
+mind last night. She&#8217;s going to Athens with Mr.
+Hard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s Mabel Penhallow&mdash;she&#8217;d look after me,&#8221;
+replied Scott, mildly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, she shan&#8217;t. Let her look after that fat thing
+she&#8217;s going to marry. No, I&#8217;m going to stay here until
+you&#8217;re well again, and by that time my reputation will
+be in shreds&mdash;perfect shreds.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I think it will, too, but what can I do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can let me tell that minister to come right over
+here and marry us when he&#8217;s through with the others,&#8221;
+said Polly, firmly. Then, with tears in her eyes: &#8220;Oh,
+Marc, don&#8217;t you see I don&#8217;t like doing underhand
+things any more than you do, but I can&#8217;t go away and
+leave you like this? I know my people and I know
+what they&#8217;ll say. They&#8217;ll say I did the right thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, girlie, I don&#8217;t know&mdash;I&#8217;d rather like to see
+Hard and Mrs. Conrad married, myself. Don&#8217;t you
+think maybe you could get the Padre to do both jobs
+over here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thus it was that a double wedding took place in the
+small room which the invalid occupied. Chula Vista,
+or at least those citizens who were allowed to witness
+the ceremony, were loud in their praises of the brides.
+Ed Merriam was particularly impressed and begged
+earnestly that it might be made a triple affair, but, as
+Mr. Penhallow justly observed, you can overdo even a
+good thing if you try hard enough. Ed was obliged
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span>
+to content himself with the rôle of spectator. Mr.
+Penhallow, himself, was a busy man. He not only
+acted as best man at both ceremonies, but he also had
+the gold on his nerves. It was removed immediately
+after the weddings&mdash;in the first spare moment that the
+best man had&mdash;to a near-by town which possessed banking
+facilities, a full account of its recovery being sent
+to Robert Street. This arrived in the same mail with
+a letter from Polly, and Bob celebrated his first sitting
+up by breaking the news to his parents.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell you what, folks,&#8221; he said, &#8220;while it&#8217;s a bit
+of a blow to have our baby cut loose like this, there&#8217;s
+something to be said on the other side. Marc Scott&#8217;s
+a first-class fellow and he&#8217;ll make her a much better
+husband than that Henderson chap ever would.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Bob dear, what sort of a man is he?&#8221; Mrs.
+Street&#8217;s delicate face expressed alarm neatly blended
+with horror.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That,&#8221; replied her husband, briefly, &#8220;is what I am
+going to find out. There&#8217;s a train going west in about
+two hours and if you wish me to carry your blessing
+to our wayward child I shall be happy to do so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Hard went south in Mendoza&#8217;s Ford.
+Theirs was a gentle romance, with more poetry in it
+than the bride suspected. Two people so thoroughly
+suited to each other do not always have the happiness
+to meet at just the right time.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For it is just the right time, Clara,&#8221; Hard said.
+&#8220;A little earlier and we might not have had the wisdom
+to fall in love again with each other; a little later
+and we might have felt too old and dignified to think
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span>
+of it. I consider that we took things in the nick of
+time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The success of the revolution, which resulted in the
+presidency of Alvaro Obregon, made popular a movement
+against the bandits which have flourished so long
+in Mexico. The case of Angel Gonzales was handled
+early one morning by a firing squad in the courtyard
+of Juan Pachuca&#8217;s country residence. The evidence
+against Angel was cumulative, the episode of the Yaqui
+village being only one of many interesting exploits in
+which he had figured.</p>
+<p>Just how much the escape of Juan Pachuca was due
+to the connivance of his captors will probably never be
+known. The general opinion, however, was that while
+his misdeeds were not to be condoned, in view of the
+friendly sentiments on the part of the new Government
+toward the United States; at the same time they were
+considered hardly of a nature to subject a gentleman
+to the fate of a bandit. Cared for by his friends on
+the other side while his wound was healing, Pachuca
+is still living peacefully and very quietly on our side
+of the border, waiting, probably, the opportunity to
+return to his country to help along another revolution.</p>
+<p>Scott and Polly will be happy. They are happy
+at present, and are no longer at Athens; the Fiske,
+Doane Co. having appointed Scott to a better position
+in one of its Arizona mines, a delicate compliment,
+he says, to his wife&#8217;s services in the little matter
+of the Gasca treasure.</p>
+<div class='ce' style=' margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:3em;'>
+<p>THE END</p>
+</div>
+
+<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.31 -->
+<!-- timestamp: Tue Oct 21 08:42:22 -0400 2008 -->
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Mesa, by Jarvis Hall
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@@ -0,0 +1,9748 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Mesa, by Jarvis Hall
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Across the Mesa
+
+Author: Jarvis Hall
+
+Illustrator: Henry Pitz
+
+Release Date: October 21, 2008 [EBook #26984]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE MESA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE PONY PUT HER TWO FOREFEET OVER THE EDGE
+OF THE DESCENT.]
+
+
+
+
+Across the Mesa
+
+By
+JARVIS HALL
+
+AUTHOR OF "THROUGH MOCKING BIRD GAP"
+
+Frontispiece by
+HENRY PITZ
+
+THE PENN PUBLISHING
+COMPANY PHILADELPHIA
+1922
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT
+1922 BY
+THE PENN
+PUBLISHING
+COMPANY
+
+Across the Mesa
+
+Made in the U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER
+      I  Why Not?                          7
+     II  Athens                           14
+    III  En Route                         30
+     IV  Juan Pachuca                     48
+      V  Polly Arrives                    65
+     VI  Local Activities                 80
+    VII  Miss Chicago                     97
+   VIII  The Prisoner                    109
+     IX  At Liberty                      126
+      X  The Discovery                   142
+     XI  Casa Grande                     159
+    XII  A Night Ride                    179
+   XIII  The Wagon                       188
+    XIV  The Trail                       208
+     XV  Angel                           222
+    XVI  Tom Does a Marathon             238
+   XVII  At Soria's                      251
+  XVIII  Back to Athens                  276
+    XIX  Polly Makes a New Acquaintance  283
+     XX  Treasure Trove                  303
+
+
+
+
+ACROSS THE MESA
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHY NOT?
+
+
+Polly Street drove her little electric down Michigan Boulevard, with
+bitterness in her heart.
+
+It was a cold wet day in the early spring of 1920, and Chicago was doing
+her best to show her utter indifference to anyone's opinion as to what
+spring weather ought to be. It was the sort of day when, if you had any
+ambition left after a dreary winter, you began to plot desperate things.
+
+Polly hated driving the electric--her soul yearned for a gas car. Mrs.
+Street, however, did not like a gas car without a man to drive it; the son
+of the family was in Athens, Mexico, at a coal mine; and Mr. Street, Sr.,
+considered that his income did not run to a chauffeur at the present scale
+of wage. Therefore, Polly tried to forget her prejudice and to imagine
+that the neat little car was a real machine.
+
+Second among her grievances was the fact that this was Bob's wedding day
+and she, his adored and adoring sister, was not with him. Bob had been
+engaged for some months to a girl in Douglas, Arizona. The date of the
+wedding had been set twice and each time difficulties in Mexico had made
+it seem unwise either that Bob should leave Athens, where he held the
+position of superintendent of one of Fiske, Doane & Co.'s mines, or that
+the bride should venture into the disturbed region.
+
+This time they expected, as Bob wrote, to "pull it off on schedule." Polly
+had hoped either to go to Douglas for the wedding or to have the bride and
+groom in Chicago; but Father had been unable to get away, Mother hadn't
+been well, and the trip had been given up. Then the young couple planned
+to go immediately to Athens without the formality of a honeymoon. To quote
+Bob again: "People go on honeymoons to be lonesome, and if anybody can
+find a better place to be lonesome in than Athens, let him trot it out."
+
+The third grievance held an element of publicity particularly galling to a
+young lady who was known to her friends not only as a daring horsewoman, a
+crack swimmer and a golf champion, but as a bit of a belle besides. She
+and Joyce Henderson had agreed a week ago to break their engagement. The
+engagement had been a mistake--both young people admitted it frankly to
+each other. The irritating part of it was that Joyce was admitting it to
+the world.
+
+Instead of taking the matter seriously and considering himself, outwardly
+at least, as the victim of an unhappy love affair, Joyce had escorted
+another girl, who shall be nameless, for she does not enter this story
+except as an element of conflict, to the Mandarin Ball. Now the Mandarin
+Ball is not the frivolous affair that its name suggests, but a perennial
+of deep importance, a function to which young men are in the habit of
+taking their wives, their fiancees, or the girls they rather hope may be
+their fiancees. It is one of the few social affairs left of the old
+order.
+
+Thus you can see that it was a pointed action on Joyce's part; an
+indication that he regarded himself as a free man, and after the habit of
+free men was about to put on new chains. It was humiliating, to say the
+least. During the war the engagement had seemed quite natural, quite a
+part of things. All the young people were engaged--except those who were
+married.
+
+"That, at least, I had sense enough not to do!" raged Polly, as she
+narrowly missed a pedestrian's heel.
+
+It is hard for older people to realize how important it is at twenty-three
+to be doing exactly what others are doing; the absolute anguish of being
+the only man in the A. E. F. without a wife or sweetheart, or the only
+girl at home without a soldier husband or lover. A bit of such
+understanding would make clear not only the number of divorces and broken
+engagements which resulted from the war and had their share in the
+production of the unrest of the times, but would also elucidate a good
+many other happenings to youth.
+
+So much for Polly Street and Joyce Henderson, who were fortunate enough to
+find out before marriage that they were unsuited for each other. Polly,
+however, preferred to look upon the dark side. Joyce had behaved like a
+cad.
+
+"And the worst of it is that everybody will say it serves me right," she
+went on to herself, "just because I've flirted a bit here and there. It's
+not my fault if people never turn out as I expect them to. I guess I'm
+like Grandfather Street was in his religion. He thought the Baptists were
+wonderful until he joined them and then the Presbyterians looked more
+interesting to him. After he'd been with them a while he couldn't see how
+anybody could be a Presbyterian, so he joined the Unitarians. People
+thought he was a turncoat, but he wasn't--he was just a sort of religious
+Mormon. One church wasn't enough for him.
+
+"Oh dear, I wish I'd gone to Douglas alone! Bob would understand. I
+believe I'll go to Athens. Why not? It's safe enough or Emma's parents
+wouldn't let her go. Of course it's a bit soon after their wedding, but
+I'll be tactful and keep out of their way."
+
+The light of determination was in Polly's dark eyes. They were big lovely
+eyes that looked at you wistfully from under arched brows. They seldom
+laughed or twinkled and the nose that kept them company was equally
+sedate, being purely aquiline, but a mouth with dimpled corners upset the
+scheme entirely, while ripples of golden brown hair completed the picture
+of a healthy, happy youngster--not radiantly beautiful but what people
+like to call "winsome," which is after all as good a word as most.
+
+She parked the electric on the Lake Front and crossed the Boulevard. The
+policeman on the crossing nodded to her and she smiled at him. Polly had
+what her father called a "stand in" with the force. It was unnecessary,
+for she was a good driver when her feelings were not agitated, but there
+was something about policemen that appealed to her. They were so big and
+pink and forceful that you felt rather important when they nodded to
+you--a bit after the fashion of a man who is recognized by the head
+waiter.
+
+She was still smiling when she entered the building in which was located a
+club to which she belonged. It was a serious-minded club of clever women,
+and most people had been amused when Polly Street joined it. Nobody
+expected serious-minded things of Polly, though here and there someone was
+willing to admit that she was "clever enough in her way."
+
+Finding the writing-room empty, Polly sat down to write a letter. Several
+times in her career she had decided upon courses of procedure which had
+seemed to her eminently practical, only to be talked out of them by her
+family. This time she would take no such chances. She would write to Bob,
+and Bob, being much like her, understood her--as well at any rate as any
+brother understands a sister. Then she would go over to the bank and get
+some money on her Liberty Bonds. Polly was as usual broke, Mr. Street
+being a man who provided credit liberally for his family but who had
+learned from experience that money was safer in his own hands.
+
+A trip to the ticket office to make reservations and the thing would be
+done. A vague remembrance that Mexico was a place which demanded passports
+upon entrance came into her mind but was dismissed airily. Father would
+attend to that. The fact that Mexico was a troublous region where an
+American girl might meet with a good many disagreeable adventures was as
+airily dismissed. All that anyone needed to go anywhere, according to
+Polly's simple code, was common sense and money. The first she had, the
+second she intended to get, so why worry?
+
+As she sat at the writing-table a slightly martial air came over Polly.
+Bob must be made to understand the situation. Because a man took it upon
+himself to dwell in or on a coal mine, Polly was never quite sure of the
+phrase, in the remote Southwest, he was not absolved from all family
+duties. The fact that he had married the handsomest girl in Arizona and
+was indulging in a honeymoon need not prevent an oppressed sister from
+demanding sympathy. She wrote rapidly.
+
+"DEAR BOB:
+
+"I know it's awfully nervy of me to drop in on you and Emma right at the
+beginning of your honeymoon, but I am coming just the same. Joyce
+Henderson has behaved atrociously to me. I'll explain when I see you. You
+needn't show this to Emma; you can read her scraps of it."
+
+Polly paused. A mental picture of Emma, demure and pretty, came before
+her. Bob Street was a lucky man to have found a girl like Emma. A dreamy
+look succeeded the martial one. Visions of a flower-bedecked hacienda--was
+that what they called them, it didn't sound exactly right--surrounded by
+peons dozing in the sun succeeded the dimpled vision of Emma. Polly drew
+her ideas of Mexico entirely from the movies, Bob's short letters being
+quite lacking in atmosphere. She saw herself leaning over a balcony,
+listening to the strains of a mandolin, played by a tall, slim youth, who
+resembled a composite photograph of several of her favorite movie idols.
+Poor Joyce Henderson, how unimportant he seemed by the side of that
+radiant vision! Polly scribbled furiously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ATHENS
+
+
+In the northern part of Mexico, in the state of Sonora, lies the little
+mining town of Athens, ironically named by someone whose sense of beauty
+was offended by the yellow stretches of desert sand, broken by hills,
+dotted here and there by cactus and mesquite, and frowned upon by gaunt
+and angular mountains.
+
+Athens, when the mining industry was running full time, was a busy if not
+a beautiful spot. Its row of shacks housed workers, male and a few female,
+to a generous number, while its busy little train of cars--for Athens
+owned a tiny spur of railroad connecting with the neighboring town of
+Conejo and operated for reasons germane to the coal industry--gave it, if
+you were very temperamental, something of the air of a metropolis seen
+through a diminishing glass.
+
+The plant and offices which boasted two stories, and the general
+merchandise store which was long and rambling, were larger than the
+shacks; otherwise Athens was a true democracy. The company house in which
+the superintendent, the manager and the chief engineer "bached" only
+differed from the others by an added cleanliness, for Mrs. Van Zandt, the
+energetic woman who ran the boarding-house, gave an eye to its welfare.
+The little houses were arranged in one long street and that street was
+Athens.
+
+Several days after the invasion of Athens suggested itself to Miss Polly
+Street in far-off Chicago, a prominent citizen strode from the offices in
+the direction of the boarding-house. He moved with decision, for he was
+hungry, and Mrs. Van Zandt was fastidious as to hours. The office force
+ate its supper at six, and the fact that Marc Scott was the assistant
+superintendent and, in the absence of the superintendent on affairs
+matrimonial, in charge altogether, was no reason in the eyes of Mrs. Van
+Zandt why he should be late to his meals.
+
+Scott paused outside the boarding-house to look into the distance where an
+accustomed but always interesting sight met his eyes. Away in the
+distance, between two foothills, appeared the tiny thread of smoke which
+marked the approach of the little train from Conejo. It was fascinating to
+watch it; at first so indistinct, then plainer, and finally to see the
+little engine puffing its way along, dragging the small cars. There would
+be no one on it but the train gang and nothing more exciting than the
+mail, but its bi-weekly arrival never lost interest for Marc Scott.
+
+"Johnson's late to-night," he muttered, and pushed open the door which led
+immediately to the dining-room. Three men had just begun eating. There was
+Henry Hard, the chief engineer; Jimmy Adams, the bookkeeper, and Jack
+Williams, who ran the company store; they, with young Street, Scott, the
+doctor--who a month ago had taken an ailing wife back to Cincinnati--and
+the train gang, formed the little group of Americans who had held the
+mining camp together.
+
+While their location had been freer from trouble than many parts of
+Mexico, both in regard to bandit and federal persecution, they had borne a
+part in the general unrest. Once the town had been attacked by Indians;
+another time, lying in the path of one of Villa's hurried retreats, it had
+endured a week-end visit from that gentleman, after which horses and
+canned goods had been scarce for a while.
+
+The worst trouble they had had, however, had been with labor. They worked
+the mine with Mexicans, and the Mexicans were an uncertain quantity.
+Athens was too far from the border to admit of hiring labor from the other
+side and allowing it to go back and forth, and the men they got were a
+discouraged lot, ready to abandon the job for anything that came up, from
+joining the newest bandit to enlisting in the army. Fighting seemed their
+_metier_ and most of them preferred it to the monotony of working a mine.
+A few who were married and had hungry families stayed longer than the rest
+but it was always a problem.
+
+Just now the mine was running three days a week and no one knew when
+orders would come to shut down entirely. There were the usual rumors
+afloat in regard to the coming election in July and a good many people who
+had seen other elections in Mexico expected trouble. The Athens people
+were looking to Street's return for news from headquarters, but already
+several days had gone by since the wedding and they had heard nothing.
+
+The men looked up and nodded as Scott entered and Mrs. Van Zandt, peering
+in from the kitchen through a square hole which served as a means of
+communication, brought him his coffee. Mrs. Van Zandt had a weak spot in
+her heart for Marc Scott--most women and children had. One did not at
+first see why. He was not good looking, except that he was well made and
+well kept; not particularly pleasing in his manner, being given to an
+abruptness of speech which most people found disconcerting; and he liked
+his own way more than is conducive to social harmony.
+
+He was, however, straight as a die; was afraid of few things and no
+persons; and if he liked you, he had an especial manner for you which took
+the edge off his gruffness so that you wondered why you had ever thought
+him disagreeable. His hair and skin were as brown as each other, which was
+saying a good deal; his eyes were gray; his teeth white and strong; and he
+had the healthy look of a man who lives in the open, bathes a good deal
+and does not overeat.
+
+"Late as usual," remarked Mrs. Van Zandt, pessimistically, as she set the
+coffee down beside him. "The less a man has to do in this world, the
+harder it seems to be for him to get to his meals on time."
+
+"Ain't it the truth?" remarked Adams, with feeling. He was a short, chubby
+youngster, with a twinkling blue eye. "If it was me, I could whistle for
+my supper, but seeing it's him, he gets fed up, the beggar!"
+
+"Too bad about you!" sniffed Mrs. Van Zandt. "I thought you'd cut out that
+second cup of coffee?"
+
+"I'm aiming to cut it out during the heated term," was the cheerful reply.
+"There's something about your coffee, Mrs. Van, that's like some
+folks--refuses to be cut."
+
+"Humph!" Mrs. Van was not inaccessible to flattery. "Dolores," this to a
+black-haired girl whose face appeared at the hole. "You can cut the pies
+like I told you--in fours. If that girl stays with me another month I'll
+make something out of her; but, Lord, why should I think she'll stay? They
+never do. Mexicans must be born with an itch for travel."
+
+"I notice," suggested Hard, "that in the haunts of civilization they are
+cutting pies in sixes." Hard was a Bostonian--tall, spare, and muscular.
+He came of a fine old Massachusetts family, and his gray eyes, surrounded
+by a dozen kindly little wrinkles, his clean-cut mouth, wide but firm and
+thin lipped, showed marks of breeding absent in the other men.
+
+"Hush, don't tell her!" growled Adams. "A woman just naturally can't help
+trying to follow the styles, and I can use more pie than a sixth, let me
+tell you."
+
+Mrs. Van, having attended to the distribution of the pie, sat down at the
+foot of the table for a bit of conversation. She was a good-looking woman
+with dark hair and eyes, and features which, though they were hard, were
+not disagreeable. Her figure was restrained with much care from its
+inclination to over fleshiness. Mrs. Van scorned the sort of woman who let
+herself get fat and fought the enemy daily. I could not possibly tell you
+her age, for no one but herself knew it. It might be thirty-five and on
+the other hand it might easily be ten or fifteen years more.
+
+She had led a roving life, beginning somewhere in the Middle West,
+carrying on for a time in the East, where it involved a bit of stage life
+to which she loved to refer. There had been a short spasm of matrimony,
+not entirely satisfactory, the late Van Zandt having had his full share of
+his sex's weaknesses, and a final career of keeping a boarding-house in
+New York. After that she had drifted West and finally into Mexico. She had
+been a veritable godsend to the Athens mining company which had undergone
+the agonies of native cooking until the digestions of the American portion
+of the working force were in a condition resembling half extinct craters.
+
+"What I'm wonderin' is if Bob Street and his girl got married or not and
+when they're coming home," she remarked as she sat down. One of Mrs. Van's
+little peculiarities, saved probably from the wreck of her theatrical
+career, was a tendency toward calling people by their first names when
+they were not there to protect themselves and sometimes even when they
+were.
+
+"If they've got any sense at all they'll wait," said Scott, placidly.
+"This is no time to be bringin' more women into the country."
+
+"That's so," agreed Williams, a confirmed bachelor. "It was good luck the
+Doc took his wife and kids off when he did. There'll be trouble here when
+them elections is held."
+
+"Pick up your skirts and run, Mrs. Van!" suggested Adams. "You may be
+cooking for a Mexicano yet."
+
+"If I do he'll know it," was the prompt reply. "I ain't the runnin' kind.
+Anybody who's staved off the landlord in New York as many times as I have
+ain't going to worry about Mexicans. What I think those young folks ought
+to do is to go East for their honeymoon."
+
+"They can't," replied Adams, with a grin. "It wouldn't look sporting for
+the Supe to leave his underlings without protection in such a crisis."
+
+"I like Bob Street as well as any young chap I know," said Mrs. Van Zandt,
+meditatively, "but I don't know as I'd want him standin' between me and
+Angel Gonzales--if Angel was much mad." Angel Gonzales was a local bandit;
+a man of many crimes and much history. "But, of course, it wouldn't look
+well for the Sup'rintendent to run away."
+
+"Street's not the running kind, either; don't fool yourself about that,"
+remarked Scott, quietly.
+
+"He's a good kid. I don't care if he is a rich man's son," said Adams with
+sincerity. "If my Dad had money I wouldn't be keeping books, you bet."
+
+"No, son, you'd be playing the ponies up at Juarez," responded Hard,
+cheerfully.
+
+"Not ponies, Henry dear, roulette," replied Jimmy, pleasantly. "Me and
+Mrs. Van are going to get spliced just as soon as the Ouija board tells
+her the winning system."
+
+"It's all very well for you to make fun of things you don't know any more
+about than a baby, Jim Adams." Mrs. Van's scorn was intense. "If you'd
+read that article I showed you in the magazine about the man that talked
+to his mother-in-law by the Ouija----"
+
+"Mother-in-law? Great guns, is that the best the thing can do?"
+
+The reply was cut short by the entrance of the train gang, hot and hungry,
+clamoring for food.
+
+"How's Conejo?"
+
+"Sand-storm. Windy as a parson. Say, you fellows eat up all the pie?"
+Conversation was suspended while the demands of hunger were satisfied, and
+Scott distributed the mail which the late comers had brought.
+
+"From Bob?" Hard looked up from his Boston paper as Scott grunted over his
+letter. Scott nodded and then as the others looked their curiosity, he
+read the brief note aloud.
+
+"DEAR SCOTTY:
+
+"Have just had a summons from the directors to go East at once; guess
+they're uneasy about something they've heard and want first-hand
+information. Emma and I are starting for Chicago to-morrow. Open all mail
+and wire anything important.
+
+"BOB."
+
+"Just what I said they'd ought to do," breathed Mrs. Van, happily. "Well,
+that girl's got a good husband--I'll say she has."
+
+"Directors would be a heap more uneasy if they knew what we know,"
+remarked Williams, sententiously. "Hear anything more about the Chihuahua
+troops bein' ordered in, Johnson?"
+
+"Nope," replied the engineer, his mouth full of pie. "Everybody crawled
+into their holes in Conejo. Didn't you never see a sand-storm, Jack?"
+
+"I wish I'd known he was going to Chicago. I'd have asked him to look in
+on my girl," said Jimmy, folding up his letter. "I don't like the way she
+writes--all jazz and picture shows. Some cuss is trying to cut me out with
+her."
+
+"More likely she's heard about you and the little Mexican over to Conejo,"
+remarked the fireman, unsympathetically.
+
+"If you'd had her address she sure would have," replied Adams, promptly.
+"That Mexican girl----"
+
+"Yes, we remember her. She was a looker but she used too much powder--they
+all do." Hard's voice was judicial. "She always reminded me of a chocolate
+cake caught out in a snow-storm."
+
+"Hush up!" Mrs. Van's voice was tragic. "Do you want Dolores to get mad
+and quit? They've got their feelings same as we have. I guess I've got to
+catch a deaf and dumb one if I want to keep her on this place!"
+
+Marc Scott sat in his place, a pile of letters before him, when the others
+had gone, and Mrs. Van was helping Dolores with the dishes.
+
+"Say, Mrs. Van, when you get through with those dishes come outside a
+minute; I want to talk to you," he said as he threw open the door.
+
+The shack boasted no veranda, but there were three small steps. Scott
+seated himself on the top one and rolled a cigarette. The air was chilly.
+The sun had sunk behind the mountains and outlined their rugged shapes
+with golden lines against the purple. Everything was very still--there was
+not a sound except for the faint strains of the victrola, which Jimmy
+Adams always played for an hour after supper. A few figures moved about in
+and out of the other cabins; not many--for the working force was light
+these days. A light in the store showed that Williams was keeping open
+house as usual.
+
+The door opened and Mrs. Van came out and sat beside him on the step.
+
+"Well?" she said, quietly, "what's the matter?"
+
+"I'm in the deuce of a mess," replied Scott.
+
+"You mean Indians?"
+
+"Worse than that--it's a woman, Mrs. Van."
+
+"A woman!" Mrs. Van was plainly shocked. "My land, Marc Scott, you ain't
+been foolin' with that heathen in the kitchen?"
+
+Scott chuckled. "Listen, Mrs. Van, I oughtn't to string you like that--it
+is a woman, though. You heard me read that letter of Bob's?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He said to read the mail."
+
+"Well, haven't you?"
+
+"Yes, and the first one I tumbled into feet foremost was a confidential
+one from his sister. She says she's coming down here. She thinks he's
+here."
+
+"What? You mean here? Athens?"
+
+"That's what she says. The letter's been lying over at Conejo since
+Tuesday and the chances are she's there by this time."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Oh, that ain't the worst. It was a confidential letter. She said----"
+Scott paused in embarrassment.
+
+"I'm not telling you this for fun, Mrs. Van Zandt, but because I don't
+know what to do. You're a lady----"
+
+"Oh, go on, what's the matter with you? I guess if you know it it ain't
+going to hurt me. Has she run off with somebody, or has her Pa lost his
+money, or what?"
+
+"I'll show you." Scott fished out Polly's letter apologetically. "I
+stopped reading it directly I saw it was confidential," he continued, "but
+I got this much at one swallow."
+
+"DEAR BOB:
+
+"I know it's awfully nervy of me to drop in on you and Emma right at the
+beginning of your honeymoon, but I am coming just the same. Joyce
+Henderson has behaved atrociously to me."
+
+"That's all I read," concluded Scott, penitently. "Joyce Henderson is the
+fellow she's engaged to--Bob told me that. I had to look at the end to see
+if she said when she was coming, and by George, if she started when she
+said she was going to, she ought to be in Conejo right now."
+
+"Now!!"
+
+"What we're going to do with her, I don't know, do you?"
+
+"She and the wedding couple have just crossed each other!"
+
+"Looks like it. Look here, Mrs. Van, what am I going to do? If I don't
+look her up, God knows what'll happen to her over in Conejo, unless she
+has sense enough to go to the Morgans. If I do, she's going to raise merry
+heck because I read that letter about the fellow jilting her. Now I
+thought maybe if you'd let on that you read it--a girl wouldn't mind
+another woman's knowing a thing like that as much as she would a man."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt surveyed Scott pityingly.
+
+"It always seems so queer to me that a man can have so much muscle and so
+little horse sense," she said at length.
+
+"But----"
+
+"There ain't any use my explaining; you wouldn't get me," she went on,
+impatiently. "But here's something even you can understand. I'd look nice
+opening the boss's mail, wouldn't I? Now you've read the worst of it you
+might as well dip into it far enough to find out just when she's coming.
+Somebody'll have to drive over to Conejo for her as long as the machine's
+busted."
+
+"I've read all I'm going to," said Scott, doggedly. "You can do the
+finding out."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt grunted, arranged a pair of eyeglasses which sat uneasily
+on a nose ill adapted to them, and glanced at the letter. She gave a sigh
+of relief.
+
+"She says she's going straight to the Morgans' when she gets to Conejo.
+Bob's told her about them. Prob'ly Morgan'll run her over in his car. She
+ain't very definite about time; don't seem to know just how long she'll be
+detained at the border."
+
+"Unless they're all fools up there she'll be detained some time," said
+Scott, disgustedly. "Well, I'll go and get the Morgans on the wire and see
+if they've seen anything of her," and he strode away toward the office.
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt sat watching him as he swung down the street. The sun's
+gilding had faded from the mountains and it was growing dark. Here and
+there a star peeped out as though to commiserate Athens upon its
+loneliness.
+
+"It is lonely," Mrs. Van said to herself. "I don't know as I ever felt it
+so much before. I hope it don't mean that we're going to have trouble.
+Sometimes I think I must be psychic--I seem to sense things so. Wish that
+girl had stayed at home, but, Lord, I'd of done the same thing at her age.
+That's a youngster's first idea when things go wrong--to run away. As
+though you could run away from things!"
+
+The lady shook her head pessimistically and drew her sweater more closely
+about her as the air grew chillier. A short plump figure with a shawl
+wrapped around its head came out from the back of the house and melted
+into the darkness.
+
+"Is that you, Dolores?"
+
+"Si. The deeshes all feenish," said Dolores, promptly.
+
+"Did you wash out the dish towels?"
+
+"Si. All done. I go to bed." Dolores disappeared.
+
+"You're a liar," breathed Mrs. Van, softly. "You ain't goin' to bed,
+you're goin' to set and spoon with that good-looking cousin of yours.
+Well, go to it. You're only young once and this country'd drive a woman to
+most anything." Her eyes twinkled humorously. When Mrs. Van's eyes
+twinkled you forgot that her face was hard.
+
+"My, but they're hittin' it up on Broadway about this time! Let's
+see--it'll be about eleven--the theatres just lettin' out, crowds going up
+and down and pouring into restaurants. Say, ain't it queer the difference
+in people's lives? There's them sitting on plush and eating lobster, and
+here's me looking into emptiness and half expecting to see a Yaqui
+grinning at me from behind a bush! Hullo, you back?"
+
+Scott, accompanied by Hard, came down the street again. Both seemed
+disturbed.
+
+"Well," remarked the former, grimly. "She's started."
+
+"Started?" Mrs. Van rose. "What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I got Jack Morgan's mother on the 'phone," said Scott. "Seems she'd been
+trying to get us. The girl got into Conejo about six--just after our train
+pulled out--tried to get us on the 'phone and couldn't; so she got a
+machine and is on the way over."
+
+"Got a machine!" Mrs. Van gasped. "Are the Morgans crazy?"
+
+"Jack and his wife have gone over to Mescal with their car and there's
+nobody home but the old lady and the youngsters. Old lady Morgan's deaf
+and hollers over the wire so I couldn't get much of what she said,"
+continued Scott, ruefully. "I made up my mind that she'd got old Mendoza
+to bring her over in his Ford. Guess it's up to me to harness up and go
+over to meet them."
+
+"I should say so. That girl must be scared to death if nothing worse has
+happened to her."
+
+"Nothing worse will happen to her with Mendoza--unless he runs her into an
+arroyo. Mendoza's principles are better than his eyesight. But, believe
+me, she deserves to be scared. It might put a little sense into her."
+
+"Shall I drive over with you?" queried Hard.
+
+"No, but you might help Mrs. Van move our things down to Jimmy's. I
+thought we'd put her in our shack, Mrs. Van, and you could come up and
+stay with her." And Scott swung off into the direction of the corral.
+
+The other two proceeded to the company house, as the superintendent's
+quarters were called.
+
+"Well," said the lady, as they began to pack the two men's belongings, "I
+expected to get this house ready for a bride and groom but I must say I
+wasn't looking for a lone woman. And yet if I'd had my wits about me I
+might have known. Only last night Dolores and me were running the Ouija
+and it says--look out for trouble--just as plain as that!"
+
+"I shouldn't call her anything as bad as that," said Hard, crossing to
+where the photograph of Polly Street hung over the fireplace.
+
+The picture showed a small girl, probably about ten or eleven; a fat
+little girl with chubby legs only half covered with socks, and with
+dimples in the knees; a little girl with very wide open eyes and a plump
+face, a firmly shaped mouth and a serious expression; a little girl with
+frizzly hair and freckles that the photographer had failed to retouch, in
+a costume consisting of a short skirt, middy, and tam-o'-shanter.
+
+"I wouldn't call her a trouble maker," said Hard, laughing, "unless she's
+changed a lot in ten years."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+EN ROUTE
+
+
+To say that the days which followed Miss Street's unconventional decision
+passed in a whirl is to be both trite and truthful. In fact, it was not
+until she had crossed the border that she found leisure to reflect.
+
+To begin with, the parents had been difficult, as good parents usually are
+when youth begins to chafe at restriction, especially if youth happens to
+belong to the weaker but no longer the less adventurous sex. The Streets
+were easy-going people who liked to live by the way. They were not
+ambitious and they were not adventurous and they hated letting go of their
+children. It was bad enough to have a son marooned in a mining camp
+without losing a daughter in the same way. Only downright persuasion by
+the daughter, combined with remembrance of quite unalarming letters from
+the son resulted in the desired permission.
+
+"After all, if Emma's parents let her go down there, I suppose we needn't
+be afraid," said Mrs. Street, who disliked argument.
+
+"In my opinion, Emma's parents are fools," replied Mr. Street, sternly.
+"Or else, like us, they've raised a daughter they can't control."
+
+"I wouldn't put it that way, Elbridge!"
+
+"I would. You might as well look things in the face."
+
+"But, Father, you know Bob's part of the country has been very calm; and I
+never get a chance to do anything interesting! You sat down on me when I
+wanted to drive a motor truck in France----"
+
+Any father can continue this lament from memory. The discussion had ended
+as discussions with spoiled children usually end. There had been a hurried
+packing and the familiar trip across the continent. It was only when she
+alighted at a border town and after some anxious hours waiting to have her
+passports vised and her transportation arranged, embarked on the shabby
+south-bound train on the other side, that Polly fully realized the
+expedition to which she was committed.
+
+Up to this time her thoughts had been of the life she was leaving, and, it
+must be admitted, of Joyce Henderson. From Illinois to Texas she told
+herself exactly what she thought of a man who could so boldly and plainly
+and with such an evident relief accept his dismissal at the hands of the
+girl he had claimed to love; but by the time the train had jogged through
+miles of queer brownish yellow country, dotted with mesquite and punctured
+with cactus, relieved here and there by foothills, and frowned upon by
+distant mountains, her meditations assumed a more cheerful complexion.
+
+The outlook, monotonous as it was, fascinated her. There were adobe houses
+with brown youngsters playing in the scanty shade, much as one sees them
+in New Mexico and Arizona; there were uprooted rails and the ruins of
+burned cars--evidences of civil war unknown on our side of the line. There
+was a strong wind blowing--the early spring wind of the Southwest, but the
+sun shone hotly and one felt stuffy and uncomfortable in the car. The sand
+which was caught up by the wind blew in one's face and down one's throat
+and made closed windows a necessity.
+
+There were a good many people traveling, for a country in a reputedly
+unsettled condition, Polly thought, and wished that she could understand
+the fragments of conversation that she heard.
+
+"Why didn't I take Spanish instead of French at school? I always seem to
+have chosen the most useless things to study! I wish I knew what those two
+fat women without any hats on are talking about--me, I suppose, for they
+keep looking over here. That man is American--or English. If I were Bob,
+I'd amble over and get up a conversation with him and find out all the
+interesting things I'm missing. I'll bet he owns a mine down here
+somewhere. How fascinating!"
+
+Polly's imagination immediately forsook the American and indulged in a
+rosy picture of herself as the owner of a mine--a gold mine--coal was too
+unromantic. She saw herself in a short skirt and a sombrero superintending
+the exertions of a number of dusky workers who were loading neat little
+gold bars on the backs of patient burros.
+
+This delightful picture occupied her fully until the train stopped and she
+had to get out. This train did not go all the way to Conejo, but left one
+at a junction called Pecos where twice a week if convenient for all
+parties a smaller train rattled its way across the plain and into the
+mountains among which Conejo nestled. It is not necessary to describe
+Pecos; its only reason for existence was the fact that it owned and
+operated a smelter.
+
+This second train was the shortest that Polly had ever seen. It consisted
+of an engine, two coal cars, a baggage car, and one passenger coach--this
+last very dirty as to floor and windows and very creaky as to joints.
+There were on this occasion but four passengers beside Polly; the two fat
+ladies, who were, if she had only known it, members of the first families
+of Conejo; an old man who sat in a corner and read a German paper; and a
+young Mexican, well dressed and of a gentlemanly appearance, who sat
+across the narrow aisle from Polly, smoking innumerable cigarettes and
+glancing at her whenever he thought she was not looking.
+
+Polly, however, was too much interested in the changes of scenery to
+notice anything as ordinary as a good-looking young man. The country was
+changing, gradually, but still unmistakably changing, from a desert, flat
+and stifling, to a region of small hills and valleys; still brownish
+yellow, but with the monotony of mesquite varied by live oaks, and in some
+cases by shallow little streams along whose banks grew cottonwoods, their
+green foliage restful to the eye weary of desert bareness.
+
+Many of the cacti were in their beautiful bloom and gave to the country
+the needed dash of color. Occasionally one saw small herds of cattle
+feeding off the short stubby vegetation. They were drawing near the
+mountains, whose gauntness seemed less when approached.
+
+"They're like ugly people--grow better looking as you get to know them,"
+mused Polly. "Oh, my gracious, what's the matter now?" The puffing little
+engine had given up trying to make the steep grade it had been
+negotiating, and had stopped with one last desperate wheeze. No one seemed
+surprised. The fat ladies went on talking and the old man continued to
+read his paper. The trainmen were outside, doing something, Polly couldn't
+make out what, perhaps only talking about doing something. "Oh, dear, I
+wonder what has happened!"
+
+In her excitement she must have said it aloud, for the young man across
+the way sprang to his feet and was at her side instantly. A keen observer
+might have drawn the conclusion that he had been waiting for some such
+opportunity.
+
+"I beg pardon, senorita, but it is that the engine cannot make the grade,"
+he volunteered, politely, in English almost without an accent--or perhaps
+I should say with an intonation English rather than American, though with
+a slightly Latin arrangement of phrase.
+
+"Oh, I see," Polly replied blankly. The young man had been rather sudden,
+and he continued to stand in a disconcerting way, hat in hand, in the
+aisle. He appeared to be very young, hardly more than nineteen, Polly
+thought, and handsome in a dark way. He had large dark eyes, very white
+teeth, a smooth olive skin without the mustache which so many Spaniards
+wear, and a rather prominent under jaw and chin.
+
+"You see," he continued, "they take the first car over to Conejo and then
+come back for us."
+
+"Do you mean to say that they'll leave us here, perched on the side of
+this hill, while they run off with the engine?" demanded Polly, eyeing the
+trainmen indignantly. In fact, she was so busy being indignant with them
+that she omitted to notice that the young man had slipped into the seat
+opposite her. That fact, however, had not escaped the fat ladies in the
+rear, one of whom said to the other in shocked Spanish:
+
+"It is Juan Pachuca!"
+
+"So it is," replied the other. "I had thought him in the South."
+
+"Who knows where he is? A wicked person, my dear, a very wicked person. My
+sister's husband says he will get himself shot before he finishes."
+
+"Undoubtedly," said the other, placidly. "So many young men are being shot
+these days. I thought that young woman was an actress--now I am sure of
+it."
+
+"Yes," replied Juan Pachuca to Polly's question. "But do not be alarmed.
+They will come back in a couple of hours."
+
+"A couple of hours!" The girl's voice was horrified. "But I expected to be
+in Conejo in a couple of hours. I'm in a hurry."
+
+"One should never be in a hurry in Mexico, senorita, it does not--what is
+it you say--it does not pay."
+
+"Apparently." Polly replied coolly, realizing suddenly that this
+good-looking boy was regarding the conversation as a thing established.
+
+The stranger was correct in his guess. Uncoupled from the rest of the
+train, their coach remained poised uncomfortably half-way up the hill,
+while the engine, still puffing and wheezing like a stout man going
+upstairs, pulled the open cars and the baggage car up the grade and,
+disappearing through a gap in the hill, became only a faint noise and a
+trail of thin smoke. Polly laughed in spite of herself and the young man
+responded with a smile that revealed two dazzling rows of teeth.
+
+"_Manana_!" he laughed. "So we say down here and so we do. You find it
+amusing, senorita, after your country?"
+
+"It's different, you must admit. We at least aim to reach places on
+time."
+
+"Yes, that is the difference--you aim, we do not," replied the other,
+thoughtfully. "Some day--but perhaps the senorita will get out and have a
+breath of fresh air? There is, alas, plenty of time."
+
+A mischievous impulse seized the girl. She felt as she used to feel when
+as a small, fat, freckled youngster she had sat still as long as she
+possibly could in school and then despite the teacher's stern eye her
+nervous energy had got the better of her.
+
+"After all he's only a boy," she told herself. "I'll bet he isn't any
+older than my freshmen cousins. What's the harm?"
+
+Outside the sun was hot but the wind was fresh and cool.
+
+"Through that cut in the mountains and around a curve is Conejo," said
+Juan Pachuca, as Polly, glad to be out of the hot car, drew long breaths
+of the splendid air. "You have friends there?"
+
+"In Conejo? Oh no, my brother lives in Athens. That's where I am going. He
+is superintendent of a coal mine there."
+
+"Athens? That is some distance from Conejo. Of course your brother will
+meet you?"
+
+"Of course," replied Polly, with the faith of the American girl in the
+male of the species. "They have a little coal train that runs to Conejo
+and he'll probably come in on that."
+
+"I think you must be Senorita Street?" mused the young man.
+
+"Oh," Polly dimpled pleasantly. "You know Bob then?"
+
+Juan Pachuca's dark eyes smiled. "Not exactly--but I have met him. Me, I
+have a place south of Conejo--quite a long way--I am what you might call a
+long-distance neighbor. My name is Pachuca--Juan Pachuca."
+
+"I see. Are you in the mining business, too?"
+
+"Not now. Oh, I have mining property, but further south. My people live in
+Mexico City. In Sonora I have a small ranch."
+
+"You speak English rather wonderfully, you know, senor," said the girl.
+"But more like an Englishman than an American."
+
+"It is very likely. My sister--she is much older than I--married an
+Englishman, and her children had English governesses. When I was young I
+had my lessons with them."
+
+So from one thing to another the conversation ran, very much as it does
+with two young people of any nationalities, granted a common language.
+Polly talked a good deal about Bob. Juan Pachuca seemed interested in all
+the details that she could give him about the mine. His manner was very
+respectful. If he had not met many American girls he had evidently heard
+much about them, for he did not seem to misunderstand the situation as
+many Latins would have done. Before the girl had realized it the two hours
+were over and the little engine reappeared.
+
+Conejo should, I believe, be called a town. The people who live in it
+always dignify it by that name and they probably have a reason for so
+doing. To one holding advanced ideas as to towns, it seems at a first
+glance to be only a collection of pinkish looking adobes which on
+inspection turn out to be a church, a store, a jail, a saloon, a hotel--at
+which no one stays who has a friend to take him in--and some private
+houses. It is Juarez without the bull ring, the racetrack or the gambling
+places.
+
+It is situated rather flatly between two ranges of mountains and when
+Polly Street landed there at about six o'clock--a trying hour in
+itself--it was in the grip of a sand-storm. One's first sand-storm is
+always a surprise. It looks so innocent from behind a window pane; just
+sand--blowing about rather swiftly, whirling in spirals, beating against
+the glass, piling itself up in drifts--an interesting sight but not a
+terrifying one.
+
+Polly had been a little surprised to see the fat ladies array themselves
+in goggles before descending from the train, and had laughingly refused an
+offer of his own from Juan Pachuca, who promptly put them on himself. But
+when she alighted from the train onto the platform which extended from the
+rear end of the general merchandise store, and which served as station,
+waiting parlor and baggage-room, she gasped in dismay. It was as though
+thousands of tiny pieces of glass had struck her in the face and throat.
+
+Before she could get her breath they struck her again and again; sharp,
+vindictive, piercing little particles they were. She shut her eyes and put
+her hands to her bare throat to protect it. Suddenly she felt a hand on
+her arm and Juan Pachuca's voice said:
+
+"Keep them shut and let me lead you. I told you what sand-storms
+were--you'd better have taken the goggles."
+
+Polly succumbed and felt herself being led along the platform.
+
+"There, we're in the store," said the young man. "Rather nasty, eh?"
+
+"Awful! I never felt anything like it," gasped the girl, shaking the sand
+from her clothes. "And it isn't sand, it's gravel. No wonder you wear
+goggles!"
+
+"I find them most convenient for many purposes," was the reply.
+
+Polly noticed that he still had them on though they were in the store.
+They gave him a queer, oldish appearance and quite spoiled his good looks.
+Polly herself was beginning to feel disturbed. She wanted Bob and she
+wanted him immediately. She looked about her anxiously.
+
+The store was larger than it appeared from without and carried a varied
+line of goods piled up on shelves or displayed on counters. On one side,
+it seemed to be a grocery store; on the other, dry-goods, shoes, and hats
+were set forth, while in the rear were saddles, bridles and other
+paraphernalia in leather. A big stove in the middle of the room gave out a
+cheerful warmth, for the air was growing very cool as the sun went down.
+
+There were a few people, Mexicans and Indians, in the place and they all
+stared curiously at the pretty American. Polly did not realize, though she
+was not in the habit of underrating her attractions, how very noticeable
+she was in that environment, as she stood there, her tan traveling coat
+thrown open showing her dainty white waist, her short, trim skirt with its
+big plaid squares, and her neat brown silk stockings and oxfords. Conejo
+had not seen her like in many moons and it stared its full.
+
+"I think Bob would be at the station. If I could go there----" Polly
+began, with a little lump in her throat.
+
+"This is the station," said Pachuca. "It is Jacob Swartz' store and the
+station as well."
+
+"Then something has happened to my letter. He never would have
+disappointed me like this," said the girl, despairingly.
+
+"That is quite possible. If you would let me serve you in this matter,
+senorita? I have a car at the house of a friend just out of town. I am
+driving to my ranch in it to-morrow. If you would let me drive you to
+Athens----"
+
+"Drive in an open car in that?" the girl pointed to the whirling sand
+outside. "How could we?"
+
+"Easily. Once on our way into the mountains we will leave it behind us."
+
+"Oh, thank you very much, senor, you're very kind, but if Bob doesn't come
+I can go to some friends of his, English people, the Morgans, and they
+will drive me over in the morning." She was conscious of a sudden desire
+to get away from this polite youth who stuck so tightly. It was all very
+well to let him amuse her on the train--that was adventure; but to drive
+with him through a strange country at night would be pure madness. She
+thought he stiffened a bit at her words.
+
+"English people? Oh, yes, undoubtedly that will be wise. Swartz can
+probably tell you where to find them."
+
+"Yes, of course." Polly was glad to see that he was going to leave her.
+"Thank you again, senor, for your kindness."
+
+"It has been a great pleasure," and the young man was gone.
+
+Polly clenched her hands nervously. Where, oh, where was Bob? Why hadn't
+she telegraphed instead of trusting to a letter? At this juncture her
+glance fell upon a small counter over which the sign P. O. was displayed.
+Behind the counter sat a stout man in spectacles--Jacob Swartz,
+undoubtedly. Polly accosted him timidly.
+
+"Has anyone been in from Athens to-day?" she said.
+
+"Athens? Sure, dere train come up dis morning; dey wendt back an hour
+ago."
+
+"Was Mr. Street here--Mr. Robert Street?"
+
+"No, joost the train gang. Dey wendt back when dey got dere mail."
+
+"Do--do they come every day for the mail?"
+
+"No, joost twice a week. Dere mail ain't so heavy it can't wait dat long."
+Swartz peered benevolently over his spectacles.
+
+"I'm Mr. Street's sister. I wrote him I was coming, but I suppose if he
+only gets his mail twice a week he hasn't had my letter." Polly bit her
+lip impatiently. "I want to go over to the Morgans--Mr. Jack Morgan. Can
+you show me where they live?"
+
+"Sure can I," replied Swartz, lumbering to his feet. "You can from the
+door see it."
+
+Polly followed him in relief, when suddenly the door opened and a little
+old lady literally blew in. She stamped her feet as though it were snow
+instead of sand that clung to her, and disengaged her head from the thick
+white veil in which she had wrapped it.
+
+"Mein Gott, it is old lady Morgan, herself," said Swartz, nudging Polly,
+pleasantly.
+
+"What's that? Somebody wanting me?" replied the lady, still occupied with
+the veil. "Where's that tea I told you to send me this morning, Swartz? A
+fine thing to make me come out in all this for a pound of tea, just
+because I've nobody to send and two sick children on my hands! What? Oh, I
+can't hear you! Who d'you say wants me?"
+
+She was a thin, bent old lady with straggly gray hair and a very sharp
+penetrating voice. Polly felt the lump in her throat growing larger. Was
+this the jolly pretty Mrs. Jack Morgan that Bob had written about so
+often?
+
+"Dis young voman----" began Swartz, heavily.
+
+Polly stepped forward.
+
+"Mrs. Morgan, this is Bob Street's sister. He has often written us about
+you and your husband."
+
+"Husband? She ain't got no husband," interrupted Mr. Swartz, heatedly.
+"Ain't I told you dis iss de old lady--Jack Morgan's mother?"
+
+"I'm a little hard of hearing, my dear. Who did you say you were?" asked
+Jack Morgan's mother, patiently.
+
+Polly repeated her explanation, adding a few more particulars, all as
+loudly as possible. They had now an interested audience of Mexicans and
+Indians, male and female, old and young, who found the scene none the less
+attractive because they did not understand it.
+
+"Well, I suppose he didn't get your letter," said Mrs. Morgan. "Jack and
+his wife have gone over to spend a few days with some friends in Mescal or
+they'd run you over in the car." There was a pause as Polly digested this
+unwelcome bit of news, then the old lady continued: "They'd only been gone
+two days when both the children came down with mumps, and my Mexican
+woman's husband had to take that time to join the army, so, of course, she
+had to leave. If things weren't so messed up I'd take you home with
+me----"
+
+"Oh, no," said Polly, promptly. "I couldn't think of it. If I could just
+get somebody to drive me over----" Both she and Mrs. Morgan looked at
+Swartz.
+
+"Mendoza might if he ain't drunk--sometimes he ain't," volunteered that
+gentleman.
+
+"Oh, no, I don't think I'd like him," shivered Polly. "Isn't there anybody
+else?"
+
+"Nobody with a car," replied Mrs. Morgan. "It'd take you till morning to
+drive over--the roads are awful. Mendoza is a very decent old thing. You
+go and see if you can get him, Swartz," and Swartz lumbered away. Old lady
+Morgan understood how to make herself obeyed. "Have you tried to get
+Athens on the 'phone?"
+
+"Telephone?" A smile broke over Polly's unhappy face. "Why, I never
+thought of that."
+
+"Good heavens, child, where do you think you are? Here, I'll get them for
+you."
+
+She led the way to the office.
+
+"I haven't seen your brother since he went up to Douglas to get married,"
+she said. "Didn't know they'd come home."
+
+"Oh, yes, they must be home," said Polly, an awful doubt coming into her
+mind. "They--they must be home!"
+
+Mrs. Morgan seized the receiver and began exchanging insults with the
+invisible Central. After several minutes she gave up the effort.
+
+"It's no use, I can't raise them--our service is dreadful down here," she
+said. "Now, I'll tell you what to do. I've got to run home before the baby
+wakes up; if he can't get Mendoza, you come on down to the house and stay
+the night with me. See, it's the last house--got a Union Jack flying from
+it. If I don't see you in half an hour I'll know you've gone with Mendoza.
+You needn't be afraid of him--he's half dead but he can drive a Ford," and
+the voluble old lady was gone.
+
+Polly wondered for a moment whether she most wanted to laugh or cry.
+Homesickness and fatigue suggested the latter, but a wild sense of humor
+poised between the decrepit Mendoza and the deaf Mrs. Morgan won the day.
+Polly chuckled. Then realizing that it was nearly seven and that she had
+had nothing to eat since noon, she went to the counter and bought of a
+Mexican youth, evidently a helper, some crackers. They were in a box and
+looked a degree cleaner than anything else. The population had wearied of
+the American lady and had gone its various ways. Polly sat forlornly on a
+high stool and munched her crackers until Swartz returned.
+
+"No good," he said. "Mendoza's sick and he won't let nobody else drive de
+car. You better go stay mit de old lady."
+
+"All right," said the girl, rising. "I suppose I can leave my trunk on
+your back porch?"
+
+"Vy not? Ain't it der station? Vere should you leaf it?" replied Swartz,
+hospitably.
+
+Polly stepped out of the front door. The sand blizzard was undoubtedly on
+the wane. The wind was less violent but much cooler. The sun had dropped
+behind the mountains and the dusk was descending upon the little Mexican
+town. A few of the houses showed a light, but more of them were dark. The
+Morgan house, a very long way down the street, it seemed to the girl, was
+lit and she started to go toward it. A sense of desolation, a forlornness
+greater than she had ever known in all her short life descended upon her.
+She swallowed quickly and increased her pace. It wasn't fear, she
+reflected, it was worse than fear; it was the awful loneliness of one who
+had never been really alone in her life.
+
+"It's the first night at boarding-school multiplied by a thousand," she
+sobbed softly. "Oh, why did I come to this awful place? I simply can't
+stay all night with that deaf woman and those mumpy children! I----"
+
+She jumped back in time to avoid an automobile which seemed to flash out
+of nothingness at her elbow. As she stood looking after it a wild hope
+came into her head that it might be Bob after all. The car stopped and a
+man jumped out.
+
+"Is it you, senorita?" he exclaimed, "alone and in the dark?"
+
+It was Juan Pachuca. Polly sighed, disappointed to tears. She tried to
+explain the situation.
+
+"But in two hours I will have you in Athens," he begged. "Or is it that
+you wish to stay with these people?"
+
+"Of course I don't wish to stay! The children have the mumps and the poor
+old lady is nearly wild."
+
+"Come. Give me that bag. So--I thought all Americans were sensible
+people!" And before Polly could object she found herself seated in the car
+with Juan Pachuca driving silently at her side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+JUAN PACHUCA
+
+
+About half an hour after his conversation with Mrs. Van Zandt, Marc Scott
+drove the buckboard with its two lively horses out on the Conejo road.
+Beside him sat a blond dog of mixed genealogy answering to the name of
+"Yellow." Scott had put on a coat over his flannel shirt, tucked his
+trousers into a pair of riding boots, and replaced his sombrero with a
+soft cloth hat. These changes having been made in honor of the visitor, he
+felt that his duty had been fulfilled and he addressed Yellow
+ruminatively:
+
+"Well, I expect we got to brush up a bit on our manners if we're going to
+have a young lady around, eh, Yellow? Going to be some strain on us both,
+I'll say. Funny idea to run off to a place like this just because you've
+quarreled with your young man! Got the temper that goes with red hair, I
+guess. I remember a red-haired girl I used to know in Detroit----" A grin
+succeeded the worried look on Scott's face; evidently the adventure with
+the red-haired girl had had its humorous side.
+
+"Well, get up, Romeo, we've got to reach that girl before Mendoza dumps
+her in the ditch and gets her mussed up or the boss'll fire us both."
+
+Romeo, a good-looking gray, with an excitable nature, snorted as he felt
+the touch of the whip and dragged his gentler mate into a lively trot. A
+new moon, clear cut and beautiful, was rising behind them, over the tall
+mountains, making the valley--so bare by day--lovely and mysterious in its
+half light.
+
+"No kind of a night to be driving around with a dog, Yellow," remarked the
+driver, reproachfully. "Men and moonlight are made for better things."
+
+The horses trotted briskly; they were covering ground rapidly. They ought,
+Marc figured, to meet the machine this side of Junipero Hill, a steep and
+cruel grade which he would be glad to spare his horses if he could. If
+Mendoza was making any sort of speed he ought to have come that far. He
+began to watch for the lights of the machine. The girl must be plucky,
+even if she was foolish, to dare a trip like this with a strange Mexican.
+
+Well, he was glad Bob's sister was nervy; he liked nervy girls and he
+liked Bob. Usually fellows who came out from college and took positions
+over other men's heads made fools of themselves; but Bob was not a fool.
+He was a decent, likable young chap, who knew he had been luckier than the
+next fellow and who took no advantage of it.
+
+"Which is more than you can say of most rich men's sons," soliloquized
+Scott. "But then why should you expect sense from a rich man's son?
+Where'd they get it? It's hard knocks gives a man sense--if he's ever
+going to get it, which most of them ain't!"
+
+There was loneliness in the air. Scott, who was temperamental, as
+out-of-doors men often are, felt it keenly. It brought before him more
+clearly the loneliness of his own life, a life spent in out-of-the-way
+places, largely among men; a life with no roots, he sometimes felt. Yet he
+would not have traded his freedom, he would have told you, for any woman,
+for a home or for children. To be foot loose, to go where fancy called
+him, to have no ties--no clogs upon his precious liberty, that was what he
+loved.
+
+He was fond of women, too. He liked being with them and he liked measuring
+each one he met with his ideal, a hazy creature who probably did not
+exist. Well, he rather hoped she didn't, or if she did that he would never
+meet her. He had known too many men who had traded their freedom for a
+home and a fireside and who, once bound, had never been able to go back to
+the old life. It had not always been the women who had held them, either;
+the men themselves had seemed to change--to deteriorate, Scott would have
+said--to have lost the energy and the vigor that made life worth while.
+You cannot get anything for nothing and you paid for the happiness you
+might find in marriage with the loss of the one thing which was to him the
+most important thing in all life--liberty.
+
+So they jogged along, Scott whistling to keep himself company.
+Occasionally, Yellow would insist upon getting out for a run, but he
+seemed glad to return. After a while it began to seem odd to Scott that he
+did not see the lights of Mendoza's car. Even a cautious driver should
+have made the distance by this time.
+
+Suddenly, an idea popped into his head--one of those clammy ideas, which
+come instantly, and come with a chill; ideas that are positively physical
+in the way in which they affect one. Suppose it was Mendoza's car with
+someone else driving it? Someone of the score of half-breeds who hung
+around the livery stable where the car was kept? Scott leaned over and
+laid the whip on the innocent Romeo.
+
+"My God, horse, we've got to go some the rest of the way! If----"
+
+He did not finish the sentence. They had reached the top of a hill and he
+put on the brake as they started down. At the foot of the hill stood an
+automobile--not Mendoza's shabby little Ford--but a big car with two large
+headlights. It was turned across the road and not a soul was in sight.
+Scott took his foot off the brake and with a muttered curse let the
+buckboard rattle down the hill.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Polly's first sensation, as she sank into the comfortable seat next the
+driver and buried her face in the collar of her coat, was one of intense
+relief. This was something that seemed like home. She felt herself being
+whirled up the streets of Conejo with the feeling of one who is escaping,
+the flight being for the time of more importance than the fashion in which
+one flies.
+
+"I think you will be cold," said a polite voice at her elbow. "Wait--I
+have a robe." And a blanket which smelled of the stable rather than of the
+garage was wrapped carefully around her. "In a few moments we shall be out
+of this sand."
+
+For a while they rode in silence, then the girl said, apologetically:
+
+"I am so sorry. I didn't want you to go to all this trouble--but I
+couldn't stay in that awful place when Bob is so near!"
+
+"If you think Conejo is bad I wonder what you would think of some of our
+towns further south? They are ruins."
+
+"Ruins?"
+
+"Ten years of revolution--they do not improve a country."
+
+Polly did not reply. She peeped out of her collar and saw that Pachuca's
+prophecy was fulfilled. They had ridden out of the area of the sand-storm
+and were getting into the foothills where the air was cold and clear. They
+faced the new moon which gave an eerie look to everything--the distant
+mountains, the foothills with their weird patches of vegetation, tall
+cacti and dark looking arroyos. Far, far in their rear could be seen the
+few feeble lights of Conejo. It began to dawn upon an awed Polly that she
+was doing not an unconventional but a distinctly risky thing.
+
+What did she know about this good-looking boy who sat beside her, guiding
+the car so expertly through the ruts and chuck holes that chopped up the
+road? Suppose he turned out to be--she caught her breath angrily! He was
+no common Mexican but a gentleman and one was not afraid of men of one's
+own class, she told herself. She would not be afraid. She hated people who
+were afraid. She was having a wonderful experience; the sort of an
+experience that girls read about but didn't have, and she was going to
+enjoy it.
+
+"I forgot to ask you if you had anything to eat," said Juan Pachuca. "You
+didn't, did you?"
+
+"I had crackers," said Polly. "What did you have?"
+
+"I was more fortunate. I found my friend at dinner," replied the young
+man.
+
+"Where were you going when you met me?"
+
+"Eventually to my ranch, but first to find you. I did not think you would
+stay with the Senora Morgan."
+
+Polly laughed in spite of herself.
+
+"I couldn't," she confessed. "Do you know, she seemed to think it doubtful
+that Bob and Emma had come back to Athens? I wonder why?"
+
+"Perhaps," replied the Mexican, "she thought the country not quite safe
+for a young lady."
+
+"But I thought things were settling down?"
+
+"There will be no settling down until after the elections."
+
+"The elections?"
+
+"You would not understand. Americans never do."
+
+"Perhaps some of us might if you gave us a chance; but when you go rearing
+and pitching around, killing us and raiding border towns like that
+murderous Villa----"
+
+"In war there is no murder," said Juan Pachuca, calmly. "And Villa is a
+friend of mine."
+
+"Well, I can't help it, and I think it's very strange for a well brought
+up boy like you to be friends with a man like Villa."
+
+Pachuca laughed as he glanced at the girl's wrathful face.
+
+"Why do you call me a well brought up boy?" he asked.
+
+"Because you are, aren't you? You remind me a lot of a cousin of mine
+who's just entering college."
+
+"How old is the cousin?"
+
+"Nineteen."
+
+"When I was nineteen I was a colonel in the army," said Juan Pachuca,
+whimsically. "That was six years ago."
+
+"Good gracious!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, in our country we don't take boys of nineteen very seriously," said
+Polly, a little upset. "Did you fight much?"
+
+"A good deal. I suppose then that young men of nineteen do not fall in
+love either in your country?"
+
+"Oh, yes, they do, but nobody pays much attention to them. We call it
+puppy love."
+
+"Puppy love!" Juan frowned. "You are a strange people--you Americans."
+
+"Yes, I suppose we are but we like ourselves that way. Do you think that
+engine of yours is all right? It sounds queer to me."
+
+Pachuca shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It gives me trouble sometimes. It needs what you call an overhauling, but
+it will take us to Athens."
+
+Polly, with an ear trained to engine sounds, wondered whether it would.
+She felt that the last straw would be to be stranded in the middle of the
+night in a lonely spot with this good-looking young man, who, to make
+matters worse, had turned out to be twenty-five instead of nineteen. Again
+they sat in silence while the machine wrenched itself in and out of ruts
+and through arroyos.
+
+She found herself wondering what his life had been? A colonel at nineteen!
+She remembered the boys she had known in our own army, boys she had fed
+and sewed for on their way to France. They, too, had seemed young, but she
+felt a great difference. This young man suggested things of which Polly
+knew little. She wondered whether it was imagination that made her fancy
+that he had played a part in life which does not usually fall to
+twenty-five, except in a country so disordered, so desperate as Mexico.
+
+Some of her boy friends who had come back from France and Belgium had
+carried in their faces some such suggestion, but only a few. For the most
+part they had come back as they went over, those who had returned whole;
+husky, lively, youngish chaps--more restless, less satisfied with life at
+home, perhaps, but not older particularly.
+
+"That's why he seems odd to me," she concluded. "He's done and seen things
+that a fellow his age hasn't any business to have done and seen--that is,
+the way we look at it at home. Oh dear, I wonder if we're ever going to
+get there? I can't keep still much longer and yet I hate to stir him up."
+
+"The girls in your country, do they fall in love at nineteen?" said Juan
+Pachuca, suddenly. There was a softness in his voice that under other
+conditions--say, in a ballroom--Polly would probably have described as
+melting. In her present environment it struck her less pleasantly.
+
+"Girls? Oh, yes, of course they do; but not in the desperate, hot-headed
+way your young ladies do. At least, not usually. Of course some girls do
+queer things and get into the newspapers."
+
+"Ah, our young ladies do not get into the newspapers," commented Juan
+Pachuca. "They are guarded quite carefully; that is, our girls of good
+family. Most of them are very beautiful."
+
+"But aren't they just a little bit tiresome? I mean, just being beautiful
+and guarded and all that sort of thing. At home we like a girl who has
+seen a little of life," apologetically.
+
+"Not a young lady of family!" said Pachuca, decidedly.
+
+"Well, of course, in America we don't think a lot about family, though
+it's nice to have it if you can. We think more of education and getting on
+in the world. Senor, I wish you would get down and look at that engine;
+there's something awfully wrong with it."
+
+Polly spoke suddenly for Juan Pachuca was leaning very close to her.
+
+"Your young ladies are charming," he said, softly. "I had always heard it
+and now I know it is true." His black eyes were dancing; it would have
+taken some guessing to know whether with excitement or laughter or both.
+"Do they ever forget themselves so far as to allow themselves a love
+affair on a silver night when----"
+
+"No, they do not," said Polly, half severely and half amused. It was
+difficult to take Juan Pachuca's rudeness seriously and yet--oh, why had
+she come?
+
+"Not a desperate, hot-headed love affair such as pleases the young ladies
+of my country," he pursued, seizing the hand so near him. "But one of
+those--what do you call them in your tongue--flirtations?"
+
+He was laughing but there was a smoldering fire back of the laughter, and
+the grasp of his hand was strong.
+
+"Senor, now please--remember that I didn't come with you because I wanted
+to, but because I had to! Please!" For Pachuca's arm had slid itself
+deftly around her and was drawing her toward him, gently, but with an
+exceeding firmness, while the dancing dark eyes continued to laugh into
+hers. "There, see what you've done!"
+
+The big car had given a most unwieldy lurch, wedged a tire in a rut,
+bounced a couple of times, and stopped--providentially--on the edge of the
+deep gully that fringed the road.
+
+"It is nothing," declared the young man, a bit stunned by the suddenness
+of the affair. The car, however, refusing to back, gave him the lie. Polly
+tore herself from his detaining arm and was out in the road.
+
+"If you had an electric torch I could tell you what it is," she said,
+trying to control both nerves and temper, for she was both frightened and
+angry. "Have you?"
+
+"I think so," replied Pachuca, a little stiffly. "But, please, dear lady,
+do not get down in the dirt! I beg of you!"
+
+"I don't mind. I know every little pain an engine can have. I drove an
+emergency car at home during the war," said Polly, curtly.
+
+"Indeed?" Juan Pachuca's voice was cool. The young lady was
+business-like--too business-like to flirt with--and yet----
+
+"No, it's not that." Polly shook the curls out of her eyes and slammed the
+cover of the radiator. "Where do you think it is? You ought to know
+something about this car; you've been driving it."
+
+Pachuca's eyes danced. What was the use of being stiff with an American?
+They were all alike--the men after money, and the women after what they
+called independence!
+
+"I think," he said, demurely, "that it must be attacked from underneath,
+if you will hold the torch."
+
+"All right." Polly smiled. "Go ahead. If you can't find it, I'll try."
+
+Thus it was that Marc Scott's first acquaintance with Polly Street came as
+he pulled the excited team to its haunches within a few feet of the
+automobile, and she, holding Juan Pachuca's torch, jumped to her feet and
+faced him.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, eagerly, "is that you, Bob?" Then, seeing more clearly,
+"I beg your pardon! We've had trouble with the car, but we've fixed it and
+we'll be out of the way in a moment."
+
+"I'm not Bob Street, but I'm from Athens, and I'm looking for Bob's
+sister. I guess you must be her," replied Scott. "Well, who are you?" he
+added, as Juan Pachuca's legs emerged from the car, followed by his body.
+
+"It's not Mendoza--he's sick," volunteered Polly. "It's a gentleman who
+was in the train and who kindly drove me over. Where is my brother?"
+
+"Your letter only came to-night," stammered Scott, "and in the same mail
+we had one from your brother in Douglas, saying he had been called
+East----"
+
+"East!" The blow was too sudden; Polly's legs collapsed. She sat down on
+the running-board of the machine and gasped. In the meantime Juan Pachuca
+stepped to the buckboard.
+
+"It is Senor Scott?" he said pleasantly. "We have met before."
+
+Scott surveyed him thoughtfully. "Well, by the Lord, if it ain't Johnny
+Pachuca! Of all the nerve----"
+
+"Exactly," grinned Pachuca, appreciatively. "You are surprised, eh? What
+are you going to do about it?"
+
+"That depends upon how you've treated the young lady," said Marc, quietly,
+"and on your general behavior," he added, with a reciprocal grin.
+
+"Haven't I told you that he was kind enough to drive me over?" said Polly,
+impatiently. "And if----"
+
+"That being the case," replied Scott, "I don't know as there's anything I
+can do except say much obliged, and keep my eye on my horse-flesh. If
+you'll get into the wagon, Miss ----"
+
+"Oh, he's all right," said Pachuca, airily, as the girl hesitated. "He's
+the manager of the Athens mine--Marc Scott--a very decent fellow. I regret
+being deprived of your company, senorita, but he evidently intends to take
+you back with him."
+
+"Any baggage?" demanded Scott, gruffly.
+
+"One trunk," replied Polly, rather dazed by the suddenness of the affair.
+"But it's back at Conejo."
+
+"Want any help with that car?"
+
+"No, thank you, the young lady and I have remedied the trouble."
+
+"Of course there's no use in my asking if there's any particular reason
+for your being in this neighborhood, Pachuca?"
+
+"There is always a reason for my being where I am," was the suave reply.
+"This time it does not concern you."
+
+"That's good. No revolutions up your sleeve, eh?"
+
+Pachuca chuckled. "I wouldn't be too sure of that, _amigo_," he said.
+"Would you take the advice of a friend, Marc Scott?"
+
+"I might, if you'd guarantee he ain't lying."
+
+"Then tell your people to close up their mine, take their women and get
+out of the country. There is trouble coming," and the young Mexican bowed
+politely to the girl and returned to his machine.
+
+"Now, what do you suppose the young devil meant by that?" demanded Scott,
+as he turned the team and faced the hill again. Polly's eyes were wide
+open.
+
+"Who is he?" she said, eagerly. "You seemed to know him. Does he really
+live near here?"
+
+"I believe he has a ranch about here somewhere--some ways south. As to
+where he lives I reckon he could hardly tell you that himself."
+
+"But where did you know him?"
+
+"I don't know him. I don't want to know him. The last time I saw him was
+when Villa stopped over with us on one of his retreats. This guy was with
+him. That little visit cost us a dozen good horses, two hundred dollars,
+and our winter's supply of canned goods. He's an expensive acquaintance,
+that fellow."
+
+Polly's face was full of horror. "Do you mean," she gasped, "that I've
+been riding around the country with a Mexican bandit?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know as I'd call him a bandit."
+
+"He told me that he was a colonel in the army!" indignantly.
+
+"Well, he was, so I've heard. He's been quite a lot of things. Maybe we'd
+better not talk about him any more to-night. It's kind of exciting for you
+after all you've been through."
+
+"Exciting!" Polly sank back in her seat limply.
+
+"He was all right to you, wasn't he?" continued Scott, a little shyly.
+"Wasn't fresh or anything like that?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he was all right," murmured the girl, quickly.
+
+"These Mexicans are queer. You can't tell what they'll do," went on Scott.
+"Sometimes they've got manners like the President of the United States,
+and the next time they'll do something that'd disgrace a pirate. Take 'em
+all around as they go, I guess Pachuca stacks up pretty well. He's
+educated and comes of good folks. But how the deuce did you happen----"
+
+"Oh, I suppose it does sound awful!" Polly said, in a rush. "But he was on
+the train and when the horrid little thing stopped on the side of a hill
+for two hours, he came along and explained what was the matter."
+
+"He talks English like a Bostonese," said Scott.
+
+"Doesn't he? And anything that sounds like Boston just naturally puts
+confidence in a Chicagoan, don't you know? Then when I landed at Conejo in
+that wild sand-storm with no one to meet me and the Morgans out of town,
+he offered to drive me over, and I let him. It didn't seem far; why, at
+home we often drive that far in an evening."
+
+"Well, driving around the boulevard with your friends is one thing, and
+around this sort of country with a strange Mexican is another." Scott
+paused at the sight of the girl's penitent face, and changed the subject.
+"As for your brother, we had a letter from him to-night saying that he and
+the bride had gone East. The directors sent for him, so they started
+pronto. I reckon Miss Emma's folks coaxed them to stay in Douglas a few
+days after the wedding--we had expected them here before this."
+
+"But how did you know----"
+
+Scott cleared his throat nervously. "Well, you see, he wrote me to read
+all his mail----" he stopped, abruptly. "Go on, Romeo!"
+
+"I see. You opened my letter and found out that I was coming, and came to
+meet me. I am very much obliged to you." The words were pleasant enough
+but the tone was cool.
+
+"She's on the trail," Scott thought, disconsolately. "She's running over
+in her mind what she said in that letter, and when she remembers, it's
+going to be a good idea to get home as soon as possible."
+
+After this, the silence was extremely marked. Scott, feeling the
+discomfort of it, continued:
+
+"It's too bad for you to have had this long trip and then miss your
+brother after all, but I guess he'll be back soon, the way things are
+looking."
+
+More silence, but Scott was not going to be scared out of his good
+intentions.
+
+"I reckon we can make you pretty comfortable till he comes. We've got a
+mighty pleasant lady running the boarding-house just now and she'll be
+glad enough to have another white woman on the place."
+
+The silence still continuing, he gave up. "Hang it, if she won't talk, she
+won't," he thought. Then as he turned to tuck in a flying end of robe he
+saw the girl's face. "Great guns, she's asleep--poor kid!"
+
+The end of a far from perfect day had come for Polly Street, and even an
+uncomfortable seat with a hard back and the joltings of a rough road had
+failed to keep her awake. She was asleep, sitting up, her head drooping,
+her body relaxed. In a few seconds she would be leaning comfortably on the
+broad shoulder next her. Without interrupting the team's even trot, Scott
+leaned down, fished another blanket from under the seat and arranged it on
+the back of the seat between them just in time to receive Polly's sleepy
+head, so that she rested half on the blanket, and half on his own steady
+bulk for the rest of the trip.
+
+"Poor youngster, she has had a day of it," the man said softly, as he
+arranged the blanket carefully around her. "And, by gum, I'll bet she
+hasn't had a mouthful to eat since noon! Well, women have endurance, I'll
+say they have. Built like Angora kittens and with the constitutions of
+beef critters. Go on, Romeo--I don't want her fainting with hunger on my
+hands, she's mad enough at me now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+POLLY ARRIVES
+
+
+It was midnight when the buckboard stopped in front of the company house
+where Mrs. Van Zandt and Henry Hard assisted the drowsy Polly out of the
+wagon, while Scott painstakingly performed the introductions.
+
+"Nothing to eat since noon!" gasped Mrs. Van Zandt, in horror. "What on
+earth was old lady Morgan thinking of? Mr. Hard, if you'll throw some more
+wood into the stove, I'll put on the percolator and run down to the
+dining-room for some sandwiches." She ran off in one direction, while
+Scott drove the team in another, leaving Hard to do the honors.
+
+"It's a shame to have things happen this way," he said. "A thousand times
+I've heard Bob talk about having you come down here, and now that you've
+come, he's flying in another direction."
+
+"It's my own fault," admitted Polly, honestly. "We are all so sudden in
+our family--make up our minds and hardly wait to write or telegraph. I
+might have known that Bob would be doing something just as queer as I was.
+How comfortably you have this place fixed! Am I turning you out of it?"
+
+"Oh, we're tramps, Scott and I. We thought it would be pleasanter for you
+to be here with Mrs. Van Zandt, so we moved ourselves out. We rather like
+changing about." He built up the fire and adjusted the percolator, while
+Polly divested herself of her hat and coat and sat down in a comfortable
+chair.
+
+"It won't be for long," she said, decidedly. "I shall go back as soon as I
+can now that Bob and Emma are home."
+
+"I hope you won't. Apart from the very great pleasure that it gives us all
+to see someone from home, it would be a pity to let you go back without
+seeing some of the country."
+
+Polly laughed in spite of her weariness.
+
+"It seems to me as though I'd seen the entire country of Mexico to-day,"
+she said. "Such a trip!"
+
+"Isn't it, though? The first time I made it I said: 'Here is where I
+locate for life and found a colony. I'll never have the courage to go
+home.' But I got over it."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt bustling in, followed by Scott, their hands full of
+provisions, found the two chatting sociably.
+
+"I'd have had cake for you," volunteered the former, "if Dolores and her
+beau hadn't ate it all on me."
+
+"It's like a midnight feast at boarding-school," chuckled the visitor,
+waked up by the coffee.
+
+"It's like the spreads we used to have when we was on the road," said Mrs.
+Van Zandt, meditatively.
+
+"On the road?" Polly's eyes opened wide.
+
+"Mrs. Van was one of the original 'Floradora Sextette,'" remarked Scott,
+soberly. "The only one who didn't marry a millionaire."
+
+"A lot you know about it," retorted the lady. "I was in the 'Prince of
+Pilsen,'" she informed Polly, confidentially. "I understudied the 'Widow'
+on the road. It was an interesting life," she concluded, thoughtfully.
+
+"It must have been," replied Polly, politely. "How did you happen to come
+West?"
+
+"Me? Oh, I came West with an invalid," replied Mrs. Van, easily. "She was
+one of the cranky kind--middle-aged and none of her family could live with
+her. You've seen that kind? They wanted she should have a trained nurse
+and the trained nurse never was born that she could get along with.
+Trained nurses are awful bossy--they can't help it, they're supposed to
+be; that's all the difference there is between them and the ones that
+ain't trained. So I come out to look after her."
+
+"Did she die?"
+
+"Not she. Get it out of your head that lungers always die--they don't. She
+got well and went home and nagged the life out of her family for years.
+Last I heard of her, she'd taken up with a young fellow she met at a
+skating rink and her folks were wild for fear she'd marry him."
+
+"Then you stayed out West?"
+
+"Yes, and sometimes I've regretted it. New York's the place to live. I had
+a swell flat in a good neighborhood and rented rooms to single gents and
+business women--they're the ones that have the money. It was interesting,
+too. I'd put an 'ad' in the Sunday paper and all day Monday folks would be
+coming to see my rooms; I met some real nice people that way. Well, I
+think you'd better be turning in; you'll feel this to-morrow."
+
+Scott and Hard rose and said good-night.
+
+"That's a plucky girl, Scott," said the latter, as they walked down the
+silent road together.
+
+"Do you know who brought her over from Conejo?" demanded Scott, with a
+chuckle.
+
+"I thought you said Mendoza did."
+
+"Mendoza's sick and she took a dislike to old Mrs. Morgan, so she came
+over with Juan Pachuca in his car."
+
+"You're joking."
+
+"I am not. I drove as far as Junipero Hill and when I got to the top of it
+I saw a big car at the foot, twisted about, almost in the ditch. I found
+Johnny on his stomach under the car and the girl holding an electric torch
+for him. She said she'd been underneath giving him a hand with it. I
+wouldn't put it past her."
+
+"But the child must be out of her head," protested Hard, weakly. "They
+don't do those things--even in these degenerate days."
+
+"I guess you and me are behind the times, Henry. And then, you know
+Pachuca's manners. Something between the King of Spain and Chauncey Depew.
+Any woman'd fall for them."
+
+"But----"
+
+"But nothing. Pachuca brought her over and he behaved himself while he was
+doing it as near as I can find out. What I want to know is what the smooth
+young devil wants around here?"
+
+"If there's a revolution in the air, Pachuca would throw in his lot with
+Obregon and De la Huerta. What he thinks about the First Chief is
+unprintable."
+
+"He had the cheek to tell me to close up the mine and get out of the
+country," grinned Scott.
+
+"That may mean something and it may not. They're keen about their bit of
+melodrama, these chaps. My El Paso paper says that there is a rumor again
+about troops having been ordered in from Chihuahua. That looks as though
+they were afraid of something."
+
+"Or else were trying to stir up something," replied the other. "Obregon's
+never going to stand for Carranza's candidate for the election. His own
+chances are too good. It might be a wise plan for the Government to stir
+up a little revolution on its own hook and get in the first hits."
+
+"Might be. Anything might be down here; that's why it's such an
+interesting place to live. Still, I don't altogether like the idea of
+Pachuca roaming the country like a lion escaped from a circus."
+
+"Those lions never do much harm," observed Scott, cheerfully. "Of course,
+if he hitches up with Villa----"
+
+"I seem to have heard that he and Villa had a row. I should say he was
+more likely to try to organize a crowd of his own and get in on the
+fireworks."
+
+"If he does it's good-bye to our fellows," said Scott. "It would be a case
+of the Pied Piper and the rats; and Johnny's a mighty good piper."
+
+Hard glanced at his companion in some amusement. Scott, who was a man of
+little education, had periodic spells of promiscuous reading, and
+frequently surprised his friend with his references.
+
+"It wouldn't be only our men, either," he said, a moment later.
+
+"I was thinking of that," replied Scott. "Old Herrick's would go, too. I
+wish you could persuade him to go back to England, Hard; that ranch of his
+is no place for an artist."
+
+Hard nodded. "I doubt if I could," he said. "Herrick's obstinate."
+
+They had reached the cabin where they were to sleep and were hailed
+drowsily but inquisitively by Adams.
+
+"Hullo, you guys! Did you find the lady?"
+
+"We did, and she asked warmly after you," replied Scott. Then, in a low
+tone to Hard: "No use saying anything about Pachuca to the boys."
+
+Hard nodded. "Better not," he agreed.
+
+"Did she? I think you lie," replied Adams, sleepily. "Don't be any noisier
+than you can help, you two, getting to bed. I've lost two hours of my
+beauty sleep now waitin' up for you and I need my rest."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I'm going over to my place to give the men their breakfast," said Mrs.
+Van Zandt, looking into Polly's bedroom the next morning. "Just you lay in
+bed until you're rested."
+
+"I'm rested now," said the girl, sitting up. "Is there--no, of course
+there isn't a bathtub on the place?" she laughed.
+
+"Bathtub? Well, I should say not, but your pitcher's full, I guess. You'll
+get used to being without bathtubs after a while. They ain't half as
+important as folks think."
+
+"I don't mind. I've camped," said Polly, heroically. "What I really wanted
+to ask you was how soon you thought I could get away?"
+
+"Get away? Why, ain't you just come?"
+
+"Yes, but I thought Bob was here. I never would have dumped myself down
+upon a lot of strangers like this."
+
+"If that's all that bothers you, turn over and get another nap. If the
+Superintendent's own sister ain't got a right to a few weeks' board and
+lodging, I don't know who has. As for the boys, don't worry about them.
+I'm an honest-to-goodness widow and I guess I can chaperon you all
+right."
+
+Polly laughed again. Mrs. Van Zandt's eye took in her appearance
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Do you sleep in those things all the time?" she said. "I mean, are they
+all you brought?"
+
+Polly glanced at her diaphanous pajamas and nodded cheerfully.
+
+"Well, I'll see that you have an extra blanket. Nights are cold here," and
+Mrs. Van hurried away. Polly called after her. "Well?" she said,
+reappearing in the doorway.
+
+"Is this Bob's room, Mrs. Van Zandt?" the girl asked.
+
+"No, it's Mr. Hard's, but you needn't worry about him. He'll be quite
+comfortable at the other house."
+
+"I was wondering----" Polly blushed. One hates to be curious, and yet--"I
+was wondering who that was?" pointing to a photograph on the dresser.
+
+"Her name's Conrad--she's a widow woman from Boston, an old friend of his.
+Pretty, ain't she?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"He never told me anything about her," admitted Mrs. Van, candidly. "Mr.
+Hard ain't one to chatter about his private affairs, but I got it out of
+Marc Scott."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"He said she was a singer; married an Englishman and lived down near
+Mexico City. Husband died two or three years ago. I've a notion she's an
+old sweetheart of Henry Hard's--you can tell from her clothes it's an old
+picture."
+
+"I like her looks," commented Polly.
+
+"So do I. Give me a wide-awake looking woman every time," agreed Mrs. Van
+Zandt. "There, I must hustle or Dolores will put red pepper in the eggs."
+
+Polly stared at the photograph. It was of a tall, slender woman, with
+large dark eyes, and obviously of a personality distinctly pleasing. She
+had, even in the photograph, an air of vitality which accounted for Mrs.
+Van's comment.
+
+"And he looks like the sort of man who would stay single for a woman," she
+said, pensively. Then her thoughts returned to her own position. Her eyes
+filled.
+
+"Oh, why did I come? Why did I?" she asked herself for the fiftieth time.
+"Because I was a coward and didn't want to hear what people were going to
+say about me. As though it mattered what the kind of people I know think
+of anybody! And now I've marooned myself in this dreadful place and I'll
+have to stay till Bob comes--we can't go chasing each other across the
+country like this. And that miserable Scott man knows why I came! Well, I
+can snub him, anyhow."
+
+Polly planted both feet firmly on the floor and reached for her stockings.
+A few minutes later she stood in the doorway, a dark sweater drawn over
+her lacy waist, her plaid skirt blowing in the breeze, and her vivid hair
+covered only with a net. The air was cool and bracing, the sun just
+beginning to be a bit warm, the mountains emerging from behind fleecy
+clouds, and the sky as blue as that of Italy.
+
+"Not bad, eh?" Hard stopped beside her, thinking how her splendid youth
+and vibrant coloring harmonized with the surroundings.
+
+"Not bad at all," laughed the girl. "You only need a few wild looking
+Mexicans prowling about to give a touch of life."
+
+Hard pointed toward the mine. Some dark-skinned men wearing big straw
+sombreros were running a hand car up the track while another group lounged
+in a doorway.
+
+"There are your Mexicans, but I'm afraid they're too lazy to be very wild.
+Nothing but a revolution excites them these days and sometimes I think
+they're getting a bit blase over them. Now and then they wake up over a
+cock-fight." They walked down the street toward the boarding-house.
+
+"I wish, Mr. Hard, that you would tell me something about the young man
+who drove me over last night," the girl said.
+
+"Who? Scotty?"
+
+"No," a little indignantly. "I mean Senor Pachuca. Oh, I forgot that I
+hadn't told you!"
+
+"Scott told me. He and I thought, if you don't mind, that we wouldn't say
+anything about it before the others. I mean about his being in the
+neighborhood."
+
+"I won't if you don't want me to," replied Polly, with unusual docility.
+"But please tell me about him. Mr. Scott didn't seem to want to."
+
+"Well, no, Scotty didn't want to frighten you, I suppose."
+
+"Frighten me? As if I was that kind of girl!"
+
+"It's just a little difficult these days to know what one may or may not
+tell a young lady," smiled Hard. "But about Johnny Pachuca. A good many
+people call him 'Don Juan'--I don't know whether it's because he claims to
+be of pure Spanish blood, or whether it's a subtle recognition of his
+popularity with the ladies."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"A few years ago, he was a captain or a colonel or something equally fancy
+in the army. He's a dashing young scamp, and he had the good luck or the
+bad luck whatever you want to call it to engage the affections of a
+good-looking young actress who was supposed to be bestowing those
+affections on a man higher up. Naturally, the man higher up looked about
+for a way of getting even. He dug up a scandal about some army funds.
+Young Pachuca had been doing what seems to have been the usual thing down
+in Mexico City--padding his accounts--so they got him.
+
+"Not that they couldn't have got anybody on the staff on the same charge;
+but they were after Juan. Juan had to choose between retiring to private
+life or turning bandit. Having a taste for action, he did the latter."
+
+"Do you mean like Villa?"
+
+"Well, no, Villa's in a class by himself. You can't call a man who has
+controlled a state and who has dictated to presidents, a bandit, can you?
+He's on too big a scale. Pachuca took up banditry, in a gentlemanly sort
+of way; at least they say he did; nobody's proved it on him. He was
+undoubtedly with Villa at one time. He was with him when he stopped here
+and nabbed our horses. I was away at the time. I've never seen the fellow.
+Then, gossip says, they quarreled and Pachuca went back to his people in
+the South. I haven't a doubt, however, that if another revolution should
+break out, Johnny would climb into the band-wagon against the government
+and land in the army again."
+
+"And that's the man I undertook to drive alone in the dark with!" gasped
+the girl. "Mr. Hard, promise me you'll never tell Bob?"
+
+"I promise," replied Hard, laughing. "And here we are at breakfast. Miss
+Street, this is Mr. Williams, who runs our store, Mr. Adams, of the office
+force----" and so on until each had very consciously greeted the newcomer.
+Scott, who sat at the end of the table, looked up and bowed, receiving a
+cool little response. He returned unconcerned to his ham and eggs. If the
+new arrival was going to be disagreeable, he would keep out of her way.
+
+Breakfast went off pleasantly. The food was excellent and with the
+exception of Scott, who kept his distance, everyone was quite evidently
+trying to put the girl at her ease. From the train crew, who announced
+their intention of running over to Conejo for her trunk, to Adams who
+spoke for the privilege of taking her over the plant, and Williams, who
+begged for an early opportunity to show his collection of baskets and
+pottery, each had something to offer. Even the black-eyed Dolores peeped
+admiringly through the hole in the wall, gathering items about the visitor
+to retail to the eager ears of relatives and friends at the next _baile_.
+
+After breakfast, Adams piloted Polly over the premises, from the corral to
+the office. He showed her the automobile lying idle because an important
+part was broken and the new one though ordered from the factory had not
+come.
+
+"I hope you ride?" he said, and as she nodded: "that's good. Maybe we can
+get up a party to ride across the mesa to Casa Grande. That's Herrick's
+place."
+
+"Herrick?"
+
+"Yes. Queer chap--part German and part English. Artistic, you know--plays
+the piano and sings."
+
+"What's he doing here if he's an artist?" demanded Polly.
+
+"Runs a ranch and writes music. His wife died suddenly--she used to travel
+around with him and sing his songs--they made a pile of money, I guess."
+
+"You don't mean Victor Herrick!" gasped the girl.
+
+"Yes, that's him. He went to pieces when she died and packed up his piano
+and his music and came down here and buried himself on the ranch. Queer
+customer, but you'll like him."
+
+"And to think that Bob Street never wrote me that Victor Herrick was a
+neighbor of his--and then wrote pages of stuff about those old Morgans!"
+said Polly, indignantly. "Why, I've heard the Herricks sing--they were
+wonderful! Men haven't any sense."
+
+"Oh, well, he likes the Morgans. She's a jolly kind of woman, invites a
+fellow to dinner and feeds him up, you know," said Jimmy, seriously.
+"They're real folks, the Morgans are, and Herrick's a sort of a nut, don't
+you see?" He threw open the door of the office abruptly. "Here's the
+office, where the manager sits with his feet on the desk while the rest of
+us work."
+
+Scott, who was standing by the window, turned suddenly.
+
+"Hullo, Jimmy," he said, with a grin. "Do you know whether Johnson's gone
+yet? Well, go over and tell him to drop in at Mrs. Morgan's and tell her
+that the young lady got here safely; I can't get Conejo on the wire."
+
+"Oh, yes, Mr. Adams, please do!" said the girl, eagerly. "She meant to be
+awfully kind but she was worried to death about those children. I was too
+tired to have any patience and I felt as if I just had to get away from
+Conejo."
+
+"You're not the first person who's been struck that way," grinned Adams,
+as he left the office.
+
+"Hard tells me he has been talking to you about Juan Pachuca," said Scott,
+smiling.
+
+"Well, you wouldn't, so I had to ask somebody else," replied Polly. "I'm
+interested in him."
+
+"So I noticed. Can't you pick out something a little more like home-folks
+to be interested in? Remember the fellow who tried to bring up the tiger
+cub?"
+
+"What happened to him?" Polly smiled up into Scott's face. There was
+something about Scotty that appealed to you even when you were actively
+engaged in disliking him.
+
+"It grew up and bit him."
+
+"Oh, and Juan Pachuca seemed so nice and friendly. But I suppose a tiger
+cub feels soft and furry when it isn't scratching or biting."
+
+"Exactly. You can't tell about these fellows down here. Maybe Pachuca
+would have brought you over here safe and sound, and maybe he would have
+taken the south fork of the road down yonder and carried you off to his
+ranch to hold for a ransom."
+
+"Oh," said Polly, faintly, "what a dreadful country!"
+
+"Well, it's no place for tenderfeet. That's what I'm always telling our
+neighbor--Herrick, over at Casa Grande. Bob ever write you about him?"
+
+"Bob never writes me about anything--except Emma," said the girl. "But Mr.
+Adams has been telling me about him. Does he live there all alone?"
+
+"No, he's got a Chinese boy to cook for him and a lot of greasers working
+on the place, but no white men around."
+
+"I wish I could meet him."
+
+"You can. I'll drive you over there any time you say."
+
+Polly's face hardened. "I won't bother you," she said. "I don't know how
+long I'll stay here. I want to telegraph Bob."
+
+"I told Johnson to wire him from Conejo," said Scott, a bit coolly on his
+side. "He may bring the return message back with him to-night."
+
+Polly felt suddenly ashamed of herself. She rose and held out her hand.
+
+"That was awfully thoughtful of you, Mr. Scott," she said. "I'm ever and
+ever so much obliged to you, both for that and for last night. I suppose
+if it hadn't been for you Senor Pachuca might have been sending pieces of
+my fingers to Bob for a ransom."
+
+Scott laughed but he took the hand awkwardly.
+
+"I don't think Pachuca would do anything quite as raw as that--especially
+with a lady," he said. "But I'm glad I went just the same. I don't take
+chances with these chaps. Shall we walk down to dinner? Mrs. Van gets
+pretty peeved if we're late to meals."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+LOCAL ACTIVITIES
+
+
+Johnson did not bring a return message from Chicago.
+
+"Family ain't got its breath yet, I reckon," he said, as he and Scott
+discussed the matter. "She looks to me like the sort of youngster who
+could keep a family pretty well stirred up," he added, candidly. "Girls
+have changed sence you and me was young, Scotty."
+
+"You've said it," was the terse reply.
+
+"If you can believe what these magazine fellers write," went on the
+engineer, pensively, "the girl of to-day is a sort of mixture of bronc,
+ostrich, and rattlesnake thrown in. Smokes, drinks--say, Scotty, I wonder
+do they chew?"
+
+"Search me," responded Scott. "I don't go into society much these days. I
+reckon, though, you've got to take these writing chaps with a grain of
+salt. There's probably a few plain, ordinary girls left."
+
+"There's plenty of plain ones, if the newspapers ain't lyin'," said
+Johnson, opening his home paper at the society page and revealing three
+emaciated damsels, clad in extremely short skirts, and with huge bird
+cages over their ears. "Not that Miss Polly's like them," he added,
+generously. "She's a looker and a lady, too. I like her."
+
+"That's lucky, Tom," remarked Scott. "I'll tell her she can stay on."
+
+Polly did stay on. The next day a telegram came from the happy
+bridegroom.
+
+"For Heaven's sake stay where you are. Stop racing around the country.
+Returning shortly. Bob."
+
+In the meantime, the days passed like hours. Polly rode with Scott, walked
+with Adams, chatted with Hard, and helped Mrs. Van Zandt with the
+housework when the latter would let her, which wasn't often. Now and then
+she remembered Joyce Henderson, and when she did, her manner would cool
+toward Scott; but one couldn't go on holding a grudge long in that
+climate. The glorious sun, coming after months of dark chilly weather,
+seemed to melt anything in one's heart that was unfriendly. Joyce
+Henderson soon faded into half-tones.
+
+There were a dozen interesting things to do everyday. A Mexican saddle
+with its high pommel and cantle, was fascinating after an English one.
+Foothills and arroyos were a charming part of one's walk after the
+boulevards and parks of Chicago. She hugely enjoyed chatting in sign
+language with the Mexicans and Indians on the place, and before a week had
+passed she had picked up a number of Spanish phrases which she used with
+delighted inaccuracy.
+
+She believed that of the men she liked Hard the best. He was the type of
+man she had always admired; the best type of an American gentleman, a man
+of good old family traditions, quiet and unassuming and yet full of a
+pleasant humor. She wondered what had brought him to Mexico--an unhappy
+love affair with the lady who sang? But Hard was not a man of whom one
+asked personal questions so she did not find out.
+
+Scott, however, was the man who really interested Polly Street though she
+did not realize it. Much of that interest was due to the fact that he
+apparently did not care whether he interested her or not. One moment they
+would be on excellent terms, and the next he would have forgotten her.
+
+"That young man," said Polly, sagely, "understands the art of making
+himself popular. He knows it irritates a woman to see a man absolutely
+indifferent to her. It's more than flesh and blood can stand. So he acts
+that way, for it's a pose, of course. Just for that I'm going to make him
+like me--if I can spare the time."
+
+In this she wronged Marc Scott, who was quite innocent of the art of
+posing, and whose mind was on other things these days than young women.
+
+One day, about a fortnight after Polly's arrival, she and Scott rode over
+to a little village hidden in the mountains some ten miles away. It was a
+warm day and they were long on the road. It was nearing sundown when they
+came within sight of Athens. Polly, as usual, was talking:
+
+"They're such queer people--Mexicans. They can't run their own country and
+they don't want anybody else to come in and run it for them."
+
+"I wouldn't call that queer," replied Scott. "Chances are that if they let
+someone else in, there wouldn't be enough country left for them to put in
+their eye, and they darn well know it."
+
+"Not necessarily," replied the girl, sturdily. "We didn't gobble up Cuba.
+We just helped them to get on their feet."
+
+"Cuba's a different proposition. Cuba was being coerced by an European
+power and, of course, we had to stop it. Mexico is in the hands of her own
+people and if you give them time they may make something of her. Then,
+there's the oil question. That's sort of soured the native population on
+us. You'd never persuade a live Mexican that the U. S. came over here for
+anything in the world but to grab the oil lands--whether the U. S. was
+innocent or not."
+
+"I suppose not, and a good many of us wouldn't be innocent, would we?"
+
+"Afraid not. You see, the oil business has developed to an importance far
+beyond everything else down here. When this man, Carranza, went into
+office, he went in under what they call the Constitution of 1917. It
+provides that the State is entitled to retain what they call 'subsoil
+rights.' That is, they don't want to sell oil lands or mines outright,
+they just lease them.
+
+"Now, if they should decide, and a lot of them want to, that that
+Constitution is retroactive--and undermines the titles of land that's
+already owned by foreign capital, there'd be a lot of influence brought to
+bear to make trouble."
+
+"That would affect our mine, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Yes, but mines are pretty small potatoes compared to oil. People down
+here will tell you that the Constitution is merely a matter of form and
+that if the oil men will go on paying their taxes nothing will happen;
+but, of course, that sort of assurance doesn't go far when a man's putting
+up his money. If they get a new government down here, and we get a new one
+at home, the chances are that the United States will demand guarantees of
+some kind. It's a bad question, take it any way you like.
+
+"The Mexican says: 'These oil lands are mine.' And they are. The American
+says: 'What good were they to anybody when you had them?' None whatever,
+and the world needs oil, so there you are."
+
+They rode on for a few minutes in silence. Scott watched, with the mixed
+pleasure of the horseman and the admiring male, the girl's graceful figure
+adapt itself to the jog of the horse. He reflected that there was
+something very clean-cut and alive about her, from the way her hair sprang
+in its tight little waves away from her firm white neck, to the quick
+flash of her dark eyes; there was a vividness and a health about her which
+appealed strongly to the out-of-doors man.
+
+Nothing could have been further from his idea of a rich man's daughter; a
+pampered being, all nerves and affectations, helpless and parasitic. Of
+course she was spoiled--used to being waited upon a good deal, and with
+rather a good opinion of herself. One could see that. On the other hand,
+it did not seem to go very deep; seemed, rather, the sort of thing that
+might rub off when it came in contact with life. Even the rich sometimes
+came into contact with life, he reflected, with a feeling of satisfaction.
+They dodged a good many rough knocks that the poor couldn't dodge, but
+something usually came along to even up the score, if nothing else--the
+old boy with the scythe.
+
+"Mr. Scott, when are you going to take me over to see Casa Grande?" said
+the object of his meditations, suddenly.
+
+"Me?" Scott turned on her in well simulated surprise. "Thought you didn't
+want to go last time we talked about it."
+
+"Well," Polly blushed, "I've changed my mind. I want to meet the
+celebrity."
+
+"Who? Victor Herrick? I don't think you'll care much for him if you go
+over there looking for a celebrity. He's not that kind."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"He's not the kind that likes to go to pink teas and have a lot of women
+hanging around him," explained Scott, promptly. "Not a society woman's
+pet. Too good a musician, I guess."
+
+"You don't like society people very much, do you?"
+
+"Not much," candidly. "And I guess they wouldn't care much for me, so that
+squares it."
+
+"I suppose the sort of people you mean by 'society' wouldn't care for
+you," said the girl, frankly. "But there are people, you know, even among
+the rich who have sense enough to know a worth-while man when they meet
+him."
+
+It was Scott's turn to show confusion. "I don't mean that there aren't any
+decent rich folks. I'm not such a blamed idiot as that," he said. "You,
+yourself, have a lot more sense than an heiress has any right to," he
+added, with a smile.
+
+"Me? I'm not an heiress. Father has a big salary, of course, but we spend
+every cent of it. We don't mean to but we always do. Somehow, our expenses
+crawl up every time the salary crawls. Of course, there's insurance, but
+that would go to Mother. You see, they've educated both Bob and me well
+enough so that we can support ourselves; I could be athletic instructor in
+a girls' college to-morrow if I wanted to; and Father's invested a good
+deal in this mine on Bob's account. He thinks he's done his duty by us and
+I do, too."
+
+"So do I," said Scott, soberly. "I don't believe in these handed-down
+fortunes--money tied up for generations."
+
+"I think," said Polly, shyly, "that you're a bit of a socialist."
+
+"So do I--only I've never found exactly the brand of socialism that I
+believe in. Maybe they haven't discovered it yet. But I do believe that
+we've got to do better by each other than we're doing now if we're ever
+going to make a success of living. Whether it's got to come by individual
+reform or by some new system of government, I don't know, but things have
+got to improve, and, by gum, I believe they will! We're too good, all of
+us, to be wasted the way most of us are."
+
+He spoke with a fire that Polly had never seen in him before. She had
+thought him phlegmatic, but here was something temperamental--something
+that kindled enthusiasm in her. She was too hampered by her own
+inexperience of life to know what to say to him; she felt helpless in the
+presence of feelings that she had never had and could not feel sure that
+she understood; and she feared to say the wrong thing--she, Polly Street,
+who had always said what she liked to men and let them take it as they
+chose! It was a queer feeling and she wondered----
+
+"Hold on, what's that?" Scott stopped his horse suddenly.
+
+"What's what?" demanded the girl, startled. Then as he did not answer, but
+continued to stare in the direction of Athens, she cried impatiently:
+"What are you looking at? Tell me now--this minute!"
+
+Scott took a pair of field-glasses from a case on his saddle. He handed
+them to the girl.
+
+"Does that look to you like Juan Pachuca's car down by the store?"
+
+Polly looked. "It does, doesn't it?" she said. "But it's too far to be
+sure. Who do you suppose those men are on horseback?"
+
+"I don't know," said Scott, shortly, as he took the glasses and looked
+again. "But I don't like the looks of it. Let's whip up and get to that
+arroyo that runs back of the camp. We'll ride the rest of the way in it."
+
+They descended into the arroyo which was a deep one with sheltering sides
+that rose above them fully ten feet.
+
+"It doesn't go all the way," objected the girl, who was beginning to know
+the geography of the place already.
+
+"I don't want it to," replied Scott. "It turns off and runs at an
+angle--just above the dining-room. I'm going to leave you and the horses
+there out of sight."
+
+"Leave us!"
+
+"You didn't think I was going to turn tail and run when the boys were
+being held up, did you?"
+
+Polly's eyes shone with a mixture of fear and excitement.
+
+"Do you mean it's a real hold-up?" she gasped.
+
+"Haven't the least idea, but it sure does look like one, especially if
+that's Pachuca, himself, on that sorrel. Then, again, it may be the
+Federal Government quartering men on us. In either case ladies and
+horse-flesh are better out of the way."
+
+"But I'm not afraid," cried the girl, her teeth chattering with
+excitement. "At least, I don't think I am--much. Anyhow, I'll be lots more
+scared down here in this hole alone."
+
+"You won't be alone; you've got two good horses to take care of. Thank the
+Lord, Hard is out of it--that's three horses we can save."
+
+Hard had ridden to Conejo the day before and had not returned.
+
+"I'm going to leave you this." Scott took his revolver from the holster
+and handed it to the girl, who took it reluctantly.
+
+"I'm more afraid of it than I am of Juan Pachuca," she pleaded.
+
+"You've no call to be," was the reply. "Don't be a baby--brace up and stay
+here with these horses. They're not looking for you and they'll never come
+down here. These are the two best horses we've got and I'm cussed if I'm
+going to hand 'em over to a bunch of greasers."
+
+"Oh!" Polly gasped again. No one had ever spoken to her quite like this
+before. "You can't go unarmed, can you?"
+
+"Never mind me. You stay here till I come for you. If anybody bothers you,
+you shoot. Understand?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+Scott proceeded to climb cautiously out of the arroyo and in a moment was
+out of Polly's sight. He looked back once and saw the girl standing where
+he had left her, holding the reins of the two horses, her eyes big with
+excitement, watching his every movement. He waved his hand, then turned
+his back upon her.
+
+"That's a good youngster," he said to himself. "Plenty of spunk but knows
+when to mind. I'm afraid that if I was ten years younger I might make a
+fool of myself--for she'd never look at me."
+
+The spot at which he had left the sheltering arroyo was two or three
+hundred feet from the cabin in which he was living with Hard and Adams.
+His idea was to steal into the house from the rear, arm himself, and then
+see what he could do, though, of course, he realized that their small
+force could do little against Pachuca, who not only had some twenty-five
+or thirty men of his own, but who could easily count on the Mexicans who
+worked on the place.
+
+As he walked quickly in the direction of the house, he noticed Pachuca,
+for he it was on the sorrel horse, giving orders loudly in Spanish to his
+men who were scattered around the place--many of them down at the corral.
+He did not see any of his own people, which puzzled him a little. As he
+entered his cabin and crossed the living-room to go to the bedroom, where
+he kept an extra gun, he nearly stumbled over the body of a man.
+
+It was Adams, lying in the middle of the room, dead--or had the boy only
+fainted? Scott rummaged in the cupboard for the whiskey bottle and poured
+a bit of the liquor down his throat. Jimmy opened his eyes and stared
+dizzily around. Scott saw that the floor around him was covered with
+blood.
+
+"What is it, boy? Those hounds shoot you?" he demanded. Adams grinned
+shakily.
+
+"You've hit it, brainy one," he muttered. "Help me into a chair, Scotty, I
+ain't dead, only winged in the left hin' leg."
+
+Scott lifted him gently and placed him in the chair, then went into his
+room and secured the gun. He brought a towel back with him and staunched
+the flow of blood from the leg with a clumsily fashioned bandage.
+
+"He busted in on us while we were taking our afternoon naps," said Jimmy,
+weakly. "I happened to be taking mine in the office as per usual. I saw
+Pachuca riding up so I grabbed my gun and beat it for the door. They had
+me covered, about ten of them before I could show my face. They asked for
+the cash box and when I said we hadn't one, one of 'em blazed away and hit
+me in the leg. When I toppled over they made a rush for the office--most
+of 'em over me."
+
+"The safe?"
+
+"I thought of that and it occurred to me that I'd better clear out before
+it struck them that I might know the combination. So while they were
+enjoying themselves inside, I crawled down here. I hadn't gone half-way
+before I heard 'em blow it up. Oh, yes, they got the pay chest all right,
+all right."
+
+"Well, what then?" grunted Scott.
+
+"Part of the crowd had gone down to the corral and the rest were down at
+the store. Just as I crawled in here, I saw Williams come out of the store
+and get it in the gun arm--the train gang were caught without their guns,
+and they've got 'em all lined up outside the store. They've looted the
+store and the corral and they've got all our greasers stirred up to join
+'em. Say, there's no use your mixing in--you can't do anything."
+
+"I can spoil Don Juan's pretty looks, I guess!" snarled Scott. "That'll be
+something."
+
+"Hold on--give me some more of that whiskey before you go. Thanks. Now go
+and get your fool head shot off if you want to."
+
+With a growl of rage, Scott flung out of the house. He strode in the
+direction of the store where the prisoners still stood helplessly. They
+had seen firearms, dry-goods, canned food, and Williams' cash box carried
+out and deposited in the automobile which stood at the side of the store.
+Now they awaited the next move. Pachuca was evidently gathering his forces
+for departure. The Athens Mexicans had collected their families, their
+household goods, and whatever else they could lay their hands on and were
+ready to follow.
+
+These preparations for a general exodus were the first things to strike
+Scott as he came out of the cabin. It was exasperating, but what could you
+expect? There was no knowing what rosy tale Pachuca had told them; more
+than likely that the American army had crossed the border and that they
+were striking for their altars and their fires. He saw women, babies, and
+household goods loaded upon his good horse-flesh and disappearing down the
+road.
+
+Scott's blood boiled. His impulse was to shoot Juan Pachuca without
+warning. He raised his arm and then he paused. One does not shoot men in
+the back easily unless one is used to doing it. At that moment a Mexican
+saw him and yelled. Instantly everyone saw him. Pachuca whirled his horse
+about. It reared and plunged. Its rider laughed loudly.
+
+"Ah, there you are, friend Scott!" he called. "I told you----" He brought
+his gun from his hip with a sudden twist. The two men fired
+simultaneously. Scott thought--hoped--that he saw Pachuca waver, but the
+air was full of smoke and he was dazed. He fired again.
+
+Pachuca's horse began to pitch violently; it took all its rider's famous
+horsemanship to keep in the saddle. At the same moment, two men stole up
+behind Scott, who was rushing forward, seized him, threw him to the
+ground, and disarmed him. One of them took his rope and bound the
+American, while both of them grinned and muttered in Spanish.
+
+By this time, Pachuca had defeated the evident intentions of the sorrel to
+buck himself through the store window, and uttering a cry dashed off in
+the direction of the automobile.
+
+"Adios, Senor Scott!" he cried, as he went. "Next time you will take a
+neighbor's good word, eh?"
+
+"Next time I'll take a soft-nosed bullet and get you back of the ear, you
+rotten little half-breed!" yelled Scott, maddened with helplessness and
+rage, rolling in the dust.
+
+"Marc Scott, ain't you got any sense? Keep your mouth shut!" screamed Mrs.
+Van Zandt in terror as they gathered around the prostrate man and untied
+him while the last of the raiders rode off.
+
+"Did they get everything?" he demanded as he got to his feet.
+
+"All except honor and they didn't leave enough of that to stick in your
+eye," responded Mrs. Van, bitterly. "They got Adams in the leg and
+Williams in the arm and took off the whole greaser population. Here, wipe
+your face off with this handkerchief before you rub all that sand in your
+eyes."
+
+Scott obeyed meekly.
+
+"Where's the girl?" demanded Williams.
+
+"Down the arroyo with the horses," replied Scott. "We saw the outfit in
+time or Pachuca'd have had her, too."
+
+"He asked me where she was and I told him she'd gone home," said Mrs. Van.
+"I was awful scared Dolores would give me away but I reckon she didn't
+hear."
+
+They stared malevolently at the vanishing auto. Pachuca had turned the
+sorrel over to another man and was driving the car himself. Suddenly, they
+saw him stop and give an order. Several of the men dismounted and were
+laying something along the track. Then with a yell, they all bolted, the
+auto in the lead, the horsemen following. A few seconds and they had
+disappeared around a curve in the road.
+
+"Now, what the ----" began Williams, when he was answered--there was a
+crash, the sight of rocks and sand flying, and a thunderous
+reverberation.
+
+"The mutts have blown up the track!" burst from the engineer, furiously.
+
+"They would," replied Scott, sourly. "Want to cut us off from Conejo till
+they've made their getaway! Probably cut the wires, too. Go and see,
+Miller. If they haven't, get Morgan and tell him Pachuca's on the rampage.
+Did he say what was up? What he was doing this for?" he asked.
+
+"Not him," said O'Grady, disgustedly. "Bring out your dead--that's Johnny
+Pachuca--no flourishes about him."
+
+"You come in here with me and look at Joe Williams' arm," commanded Mrs.
+Van. "It don't look to me as if it was broke, do you think so?"
+
+"I'll see to Adams," said Scott. "Johnson, you go down to the arroyo and
+get the girl." And he went down the street to the cabin.
+
+"Well, did he get everything?" demanded Adams, as Scott entered.
+
+"All he could carry. He left the victrola for you, Jimmy, and the stove
+for Mrs. Van."
+
+"Gosh! What did you do with Miss Polly?"
+
+"Left her with the horses in the arroyo."
+
+"That was smart of you, Scotty. I'll bet she wanted to come?"
+
+"I'll bet she did, but she didn't get to come. Let's have another look at
+the leg, Jimmy."
+
+They bathed it as well as they could. It had stopped bleeding and they
+bandaged it carefully with another towel.
+
+"I don't believe the bone's broke, Jimmy, but I don't like the looks of
+it," said the amateur surgeon. "You need a doctor."
+
+"There ain't any except that greaser over at Conejo," said Adams,
+gloomily. "Morgan says he's so dirty he won't let him touch his kids. I
+don't want blood poisoning, you bet. Did they blow up the track?"
+
+Scott nodded. "There's Johnson," he exclaimed, looking out of the window.
+"He's got the horses but not the girl. Hey, there, Tom, where's Miss
+Polly?" he cried as the engineer dismounted and came into the house.
+
+"She wasn't there, Scotty. I found the horses tied to a branch of a tree
+that grew out of the side of the arroyo but there wasn't no sign of the
+girl anywhere."
+
+Scott's face darkened. "She was scared and went further up," he said. "Did
+you look?"
+
+"Looked and hollered and then some, but she was clean gone."
+
+Scott muttered something, flung out of the house and threw himself on his
+horse. In a moment he was tearing up the road.
+
+"Where's that ugly devil going?" said Johnson, disgustedly. "Didn't I tell
+him she'd gone? Is he going to try to chase Johnny Pachuca into the
+mountains after her?"
+
+"Gone clean nuts!" remarked Adams, gloomily.
+
+"I knew that when I seen him rolling in the dirt and yelling
+'half-breed,'" replied Johnson. "You might as well poison a Mexican as to
+call him 'half-breed.' According to them they're all second cousins to the
+King of Spain. Does your leg hurt much, Jimmy?"
+
+"Well, I've had legs that felt better," said Adams, cheerfully. "Where you
+going, Tom?" as the long, lank engineer swung out of the room.
+
+"To see the boss get his throat cut," was the reply. "Pachuca's got the
+money, the guns and the girl; it don't seem very good sense to hand him
+the whole office force but if the boss says so, here goes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+MISS CHICAGO
+
+
+Polly stood where Scott left her, gazing after him with a mixture of
+horror and excitement; horror at the thought that one of the terrible
+raids of which she had so often heard was taking place scarce two hundred
+yards from where she stood, and excitement because she was there--she,
+Polly Street, who had so far in her life never met with any adventure more
+thrilling than a punctured tire or a lost golf match.
+
+Then, suddenly, it dawned upon her that Scott had left her his only
+weapon; had gone empty-handed into the trouble! The thought carried a
+double meaning. He had told her that she was safe, but he had left her his
+gun. Then there was danger--the Mexicans might come and find her;
+secondly, he had gone unarmed for her sake. He, the indifferent, the
+uncaring, the man who didn't mind whether she smiled on him or snubbed
+him! Was it only because she was a girl and he a man, or did he, after
+all, care a little bit?
+
+She had threatened, boastingly, to make him care, but she realized that
+she was beginning to care a little herself; that she could not stay
+quietly in the arroyo without knowing what was happening to him; that she
+must see and hear no matter what the risk.
+
+She looked about her in some perplexity. She had been told that a western
+horse would stand contentedly if his reins were thrown over his head; but
+she doubted the universal truth of this statement.
+
+"They might if there was grass for them to nibble," she decided. "But they
+never would in this hole. Come on, ponies, let's see what we can do." And
+gathering up the reins she led the horses in the direction Scott had gone.
+She saw the place where he had scrambled out of the arroyo, and, oh, good
+luck, a clump of mesquite growing out of the crumbling wall further down.
+She fastened the bridle reins to the mesquite and left the horses
+contentedly chewing at it.
+
+Very cautiously she crept up the incline and took a peek at the situation.
+She was just in time to see Scott disappear into the cabin where Adams lay
+wounded. Polly's face fell. That didn't look very heroic--crawling in by
+the back door! No wonder he didn't want her to see him. Then she took
+another look. She saw the crowd down by the corral, catching and saddling
+unwilling horses. Women were hurrying in and out of cabins, dragging
+household goods and children with them.
+
+The little crowd before the store she could not see as the building itself
+prevented, but she saw Pachuca with several of his men riding up and down,
+and she also saw several unmounted Mexicans who had been looting the
+store, carry the goods out and throw them in the car which stood at the
+side of the building. Instinctively the girl reconstructed the action of
+the bandits.
+
+"A lot of them came on horseback and the rest in the car. They're going to
+carry what they've taken in the car and they're taking the horses for the
+extra men. Our Mexicans and their women are going with them and are
+helping themselves to whatever they want. But where are our men? I didn't
+think they'd sit down and be plundered without putting up some kind of a
+fight."
+
+She saw the crowd which had been looting the store start for the corral.
+The car stood alone. Without doubt they had stopped it a little way from
+the street and made a dash on horseback. Polly's eyes shone.
+
+She glanced at the sun; it was going down rapidly. It would soon be dusk.
+She crept cautiously out of the arroyo. If only none of the men on
+horseback saw her she might manage it, wild as her plan was. She shook
+with fear but she did not falter; a girl does not have an obstinate chin
+for nothing. She glanced both ways; Pachuca was still riding up and down,
+issuing orders which were obeyed noisily but cheerfully. She saw him point
+toward the corral and saw the men who had been loading the car with
+plunder start toward the corral on a run.
+
+"Going after more horses," thought the girl, stopping and crouching back
+of one of the cabins. If they should see her--she held her breath. The
+next moment she was running for the car, still sheltered by the cabins. It
+was this moment that Scott chose to walk down the street and draw the
+attention of the raiders. Polly saw him and her heart warmed.
+
+"I knew he wasn't a coward!" she almost sobbed. "Oh, I'm glad--but he
+needn't be such an idiot as that. He'll be shot as sure as I'm here."
+
+Panic stricken, she increased her pace and in a minute had reached the
+shelter of the car. Then the shots burst upon her ears. She turned white
+and clung to the door of the car. If they had killed him! She saw Scott's
+face as he had left her--friendly, ugly, determined--and she knew that if
+they had killed him nothing else would matter--anything might happen and
+she would not care. Mechanically, she opened the door of the car and
+hastily moved some of the plunder from the floor to the seat. The Mexicans
+had tossed in canned goods, blankets, rifles, a couple of cash boxes and
+even a box of victrola records. Then she crawled into the space she had
+made and seizing one of the blankets, drew it over herself and over a part
+of the loot, giving the tonneau of the car the appearance of being full of
+plunder which was protected from the dust by a blanket.
+
+There was a clatter of hoofs and Polly heard Scott's parting yell. It
+brought a glorious relief to her mind for surely no one who was badly hurt
+could be as mad as that! She heard the answering yells of the Mexicans,
+then she felt and heard the door of the car flung open; someone had jumped
+in and was starting the engine. Something struck her--a man had thrown his
+bundle into the car that he might take a howling youngster on his saddle.
+Polly's teeth chattered with fear; she was realizing with every throb of
+the engine the awful risk she was taking.
+
+Suddenly the car moved. Polly cowered in her uncomfortable position. Cold
+with terror she clutched the revolver Scott had given her. Suppose at the
+last minute some of the other men should decide to get into the car?
+
+"But I won't suppose! There wouldn't have been any time to suppose if I'd
+gone to war to drive an ambulance. The boys didn't suppose when they went
+over the top--they just went! I hope to goodness none of these guns I'm
+sitting on are loaded."
+
+The car bumped along on the rutty road and the noise of the riders died
+away.
+
+"I knew it," the girl said triumphantly. "I knew the horseback people
+would take to the trail as soon as they could, and the automobile can't,
+of course. I've scored one point----"
+
+The car stopped. Polly's breathing apparatus stopped simultaneously. What
+was it? Had he seen her? Or was he about to pull the loot to pieces and
+discover her? She listened with her whole body, but heard nothing from the
+driver. Instead, came the detonation of the dynamited tracks. The ground
+beneath the car trembled. Then she heard the man laugh as he started the
+car again.
+
+"They've blown up something! That sounds like Don Juan's voice, too. If I
+could only see!"
+
+The car soon moved at its former speed. On and on it went. Sometimes the
+road would be smooth, the driver having found wagon ruts and stayed in
+them. Again, it would be full of bumps and jars. It was very
+uncomfortable, her position being wretchedly cramped. Once she was
+startled to hear the driver break into song. It sounded like a Spanish
+love song and his voice was a lyric tenor and very musical. It was
+Pachuca! She determined to know what was going on.
+
+Pushing aside a corner of the blanket she saw that it was beginning to
+grow dusky. Cautiously she raised herself until she could see. Pachuca was
+bent over the wheel. Looking back she saw the road empty of riders.
+
+She looked ahead again. They were in the foothills already. Polly drew a
+long breath, then leaning over the back of the seat said desperately:
+
+"Senor Pachuca, would you mind turning round a moment?"
+
+If she had exploded the revolver in his ear, Pachuca could not have given
+a greater start.
+
+"_Madre di Dios!_" he gasped, as the machine swerved.
+
+"Please, do mind the wheel--that was an awful curve!"
+
+"Where did you come from?" demanded the young man.
+
+"I have been hidden among the stolen goods," replied Polly. "I've heard a
+lot about you lately, senor, but I honestly didn't believe you were a
+thief until I saw with my own eyes."
+
+Pachuca stopped the machine and turning glared at the girl, also at the
+weapon which she pointed with a very unsteady hand in his direction.
+
+"If you'll put that thing down I'll try to explain to you the difference
+between stealing and requisitioning property in war times," he said,
+angrily.
+
+"If you'll turn the car around you can explain all the way back to
+Athens," said Polly, sharply. "I'm awfully tired and stiff and my hand is
+shaky--the man who gave me this gun told me it was ready to go off. I
+don't want it to go off but if it does I can't help it. Will you please
+turn around?"
+
+"No, I won't. The road is too narrow."
+
+"I've turned a Red Cross ambulance around in a lane no wider than this out
+near Fort Sheridan and I didn't spill anybody either. You're a better
+driver than I am."
+
+Pachuca shrugged his shoulders but he turned the car. There was an ugly
+look in his eyes and Polly clutched her weapon tightly. She tried to keep
+her voice steady but it quavered desperately.
+
+"If you try to do anything mean--upset the car or anything like that, I'm
+going to fire--I certainly will--as sure as I'm red-headed."
+
+The car sped on. Suddenly Pachuca's shoulders began to shake. He turned a
+laughing face toward Polly.
+
+"You are so pretty and so disagreeable," he said. "Are all Chicago ladies
+like you?"
+
+"No. Some of them are not so pretty and are more agreeable," replied the
+girl, nervously. "Please--you just missed that chuck-hole!"
+
+"Why should I care? I do not want to go to Athens."
+
+"No, but you don't want to go to Heaven, either, do you? Or--well, you
+know what I mean. I don't know how much of a jar it would take to make
+this thing go off. A chuck-hole might do it."
+
+Pachuca, evidently depressed, relapsed into silence. It was growing colder
+and darker--would they never get there? However, she would not have been
+Polly had she kept still.
+
+"Senor Pachuca, what did you mean by requisitioning goods? You aren't
+working for the government, are you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Has another revolution broken out?"
+
+"My dear young lady, Sonora has seceded and other states will follow.
+Mexico is about to throw off Carranza and his government. Is that clear?"
+
+"Pretty clear--only I don't understand why you should take our things."
+
+"I am raising a regiment. When it is complete I shall lead it into the
+field to fight for Mexico."
+
+"I see. That's why you wanted our men?"
+
+"A regiment means men, senorita."
+
+"And our blankets and money and guns and victrola records?"
+
+"Why not? You Americans make your profit from us, why should you not share
+in our obligations? Did your generals spare the South when you had your
+Civil War? War is not a pretty thing, senorita."
+
+"They were at war with the South and they took----"
+
+"Exactly. They took. An American has but one code of morals, and that is
+to take. I do not quarrel with it, I like it. I also take."
+
+Polly did not reply. She was tired and cold and she wanted to get home.
+Her hand was cramped and shaky--her threat had not been an idle one. She
+realized also that Pachuca for all his docility was only waiting the
+opportunity to turn the tables on her. He was a young man most fertile in
+expedients and it behooved her to be extremely vigilant. He would be quite
+capable of shooting up the wrong road and carrying her miles in a strange
+direction.
+
+The thought made her feel panicky. She tried to remember the turns in the
+road, only to realize that she had not seen the road--she had been in the
+bottom of the car, her head covered with a blanket when she had traveled
+it so short a time ago. Everything looked ghostly and unreal to her in the
+half light, while Pachuca, she firmly believed, could see in the dark with
+those handsome eyes of his quite as well as any family cat out for a run.
+
+"Go faster, please," she said, sharply, for wherever they were going it
+might be as well to get there before dark. "It's getting late and I'm
+cold."
+
+Obediently Pachuca swung into the next speed and the car bumped cheerfully
+along, the big lights casting a bewildering glare before them.
+
+"If I only knew where we were and what he has up his sleeve!" the girl
+groaned inwardly. "I know he has something because he isn't making any
+fuss. This road is rougher than it was when we came, too; he has taken a
+wrong turn--I know he has!"
+
+Pachuca, apparently resigned to his fate, began to hum melodiously.
+
+"Senor!" Polly's voice was sharp with apprehension and weariness.
+
+"Senorita?"
+
+"We are on the wrong road; I am sure of it. Go back to the place where you
+left it."
+
+"With perfect willingness, dear lady, but where shall I go? The road leads
+to Athens. Is that not where we want to go--I mean where you want to go?"
+
+"No--I don't know--I think you're tricking me. This isn't the way we came.
+It doesn't look to me like a road at all--I think you're going over the
+open country. I----" The girl paused. It was disheartening--to go through
+so much and then to fail at last. She peered ahead into the dim light,
+trying to see what lay beyond the bright lights of the car. It did look
+like open country. Ahead lay a hill--a tall hill. Would Pachuca try to
+make it or would he climb around the side of it? Something--it looked like
+a man on horseback--was coming rapidly down the hill. Had she
+miscalculated and were some of Pachuca's men still on the road? Perhaps
+the same thought struck the Mexican, for he slowed the car down and peered
+eagerly ahead. Polly clutched the revolver feverishly.
+
+"If it's one of your men and you stop--I shall fire!" she said, quickly.
+
+Both stared into the dusk in silence. The rider came almost into the glare
+of the lamps.
+
+"Stop!" cried the girl, loudly. "It's Mr. Scott!"
+
+The car stopped, the horse was drawn to his haunches, and Scott stared at
+the couple over his gun.
+
+"Game's up, Pachuca," he said, shortly. "You're my prisoner."
+
+"Oh!" cried Polly, jumping out of the car and running to Scott. "I knew he
+hadn't killed you--but I wouldn't ask him for fear he'd say he had! I
+knew----" She clutched his stirrup desperately.
+
+Scott stared. "Well. I'm----!" he said, and reaching down he caught the
+swaying girl by the arm.
+
+"I'm not going to faint--I never do," she cried, clinging to his arm.
+"Don't let him get away."
+
+"Keep him covered. He's not going to get away." Scott swung himself out of
+the saddle, wound the bridle reins around the pommel and gave the horse a
+clap which started him toward home. "Well, old man, I'll take the gun, I
+reckon. Thanks. What's up? Getting up a revolution?"
+
+"He doesn't have to; it's already got up," said Polly, as she climbed into
+her place again. "I hid in the car and made him come back," she added.
+"But I was afraid we were off the road."
+
+"You were," said Scott, briefly. "I saw your lights from the hilltop and
+came over this way. He was putting one over on you all right." He tossed
+into the back of the car some of the stuff which was in his way and took
+the seat beside Pachuca who preserved a sullen silence. "Well, I guess
+we've had enough of this. Home, James!"
+
+There was not much conversation. Pachuca was in a bad humor and confined
+his attention to the wheel, a precaution which the increasing darkness
+rendered highly prudent; Scott was intent upon watching the young Mexican,
+determined to have no tricks played upon him; while Polly, exhausted by
+the excitement of the past hour, crouched quietly in the crowded tonneau.
+A long way in the rear the patient pony trotted on his homeward way,
+wondering, no doubt, why things that moved on wheels could go so much
+faster than those traveling on plain, old-fashioned legs.
+
+Out of the dark came a figure on horseback--as unexpectedly as Scott
+himself had done a few moments ago. Scott tightened his grasp on his
+revolver.
+
+"If he's a friend of yours, senor, I'm afraid you'll have to go by without
+recognizing him," he said.
+
+"He is not," replied Pachuca. "My friends are better horsemen than that."
+
+"It's Tom," laughed Scott, suddenly. "He's come after me. Slow down,
+senor, if you please."
+
+Johnson, riding rapidly, swerved suddenly to one side as the big machine
+without lights came toward him.
+
+"What the----" he began.
+
+"Yes, it's us," said Scott, drily. "We've made a haul and we're bringing
+it in. Suppose you wait for that horse of mine, will you, Tom, and see
+that he gets home all right? Thanks to this gentleman and his friends
+we've only got three head of cattle left, so we'd best be careful of
+them."
+
+"You bet," responded Johnson, heartily. "How'd you do it, old man?" he
+asked.
+
+"I didn't, the lady in the case did it," responded Scott. "She'll tell you
+about it later. Whoop her up, will you, senor? It's getting chilly around
+here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE PRISONER
+
+
+Athens was dark and lonely-looking as the big machine reentered it. There
+was the usual light in the store and one in the house occupied by Mrs. Van
+Zandt and Polly. Scott motioned to Pachuca to draw up in front of the
+cabin. Mrs. Van Zandt came out as the machine stopped; evidently she was
+in doubt as to whether or not it was another invasion, for she stopped in
+the doorway and peered out anxiously.
+
+"It's all right, Mrs. Van!" cried Scott, cheerfully. "I've brought her
+back."
+
+Polly jumped out and ran to the astonished woman. "It's all right," she
+reiterated.
+
+"Yes, I see it is; but where did you get that car?"
+
+"It's Senor Pachuca's and we've got him, too," replied the girl, in an
+undertone. "And we've brought back some of the things they took."
+
+"Has Hard come back?" demanded Scott, as Mrs. Van came out to the
+machine.
+
+"No, and I wish he would. I'm worried about Jimmy Adams. Where are you
+going to put that chap?" asked Mrs. Van, eyeing Pachuca resentfully.
+
+"I think I'll ask him to spend the night in Hard's office," replied Scott,
+thoughtfully. "It's the only place we've got that isn't on the ground
+floor, and I guess nobody wants to put in the night doing sentry duty.
+Just bring over a couple of blankets, will you, Mrs. Van?"
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt and Polly went into the house and Scott with his prisoner
+walked across to the office where they fell in with O'Grady, who grinned
+pleasantly when the state of affairs was explained to him.
+
+"Come back to spend the night with us? Sure we can make him comfy!
+Up-stairs, son. You can have the engineer's office to yourself," he added,
+hospitably.
+
+"I don't like leaving you here, Pachuca," said Scott, as he threw open the
+door of Hard's office. "It's not my idea of entertaining the aristocracy,
+but it's the best I can do for a gentleman of your peculiar habits."
+
+"What is your idea?" remarked Pachuca, surveying the small room
+nonchalantly. "Don't you think it would be more practical to let me go? I
+can't do any more harm to-day, you know."
+
+"That's just what I don't know," replied Scott, quietly. "I know you can't
+do any harm to anyone but yourself while you're locked up here, and I want
+to turn you over in my mind a little."
+
+"I'll make it worth your while to let me drive that car off the place
+while you're all asleep," proposed Pachuca, smiling.
+
+"You're a persuasive cuss, but we need that car."
+
+"Going to do a little banditing on our own hook," put in O'Grady,
+cheerfully.
+
+"Shut up, Matt! We'll send you over some supper, Pachuca, and some bedding
+by and by," and locking the door behind them, the two men went
+downstairs.
+
+"You think he can't slide out?" suggested Matt, doubtfully. "He's a crafty
+devil."
+
+"If he wants to risk breaking a bone or two jumping out of the window, let
+him try," said Scott, easily. "How's Williams?"
+
+"Pretty good. No bones broke and Mrs. Van bandaged him up. He's sore as
+the devil about his stuff."
+
+"We got a good deal of it back. We'll run the car down to the store and
+see just what we did get." And Scott related Polly's adventure with much
+enjoyment.
+
+"She's a mighty game youngster," declared O'Grady, admiringly. "I didn't
+know they raised 'em like that in the East."
+
+"I'll swear I didn't. Lucky for His Nobs she didn't let a bullet into him
+by mistake."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It's a case of 'eventually, why not now?'"
+
+A search of the machine revealed the more important part of the loot--the
+money taken from the safe in the office, Williams' cash box, and a good
+many firearms, blankets and small items. Horses, saddles, bridles, canned
+goods and innumerable other effects had been carried off by the horseback
+riders, never to be regained, unless, as Scott suggested, Pachuca could be
+traded off for them. And, of course, the mine would have to be closed down
+until more workers could be obtained, rather an improbable thing in the
+present state of the country.
+
+"What beats me is, how did you happen to think of it?" demanded O'Grady of
+Polly a little later as they sat around the dining-room table eating a
+hastily improvised supper.
+
+Polly chuckled. "Well, you see," she said, modestly, "we've been having a
+lot of auto hold-ups in Chicago this winter and one of them happened to a
+friend of mine.
+
+"She and a friend were coming home from a party one afternoon, and when
+she drew up at the house, two young men popped into the car, pointed
+revolvers at her and told her to drive up the avenue. Well, she drove up
+the avenue! She said the feel of that cold thing on the back of her neck
+kept her awake at night for months. Then when they had gone a little way,
+they stopped, dumped both the women out, and went off with the car."
+
+"Gosh, Chicago must be a great little place!" remarked Matt, admiringly.
+
+"It just came to me when I saw them putting all those things into the car
+that if anybody could hide in it and make whoever was driving return the
+goods it would be--well--rather a nice thing to do. Of course, I took an
+awful chance. The horseback people might not have taken the trail--but
+even then the machine would have outdistanced them. I felt sure I could
+get Pachuca alone."
+
+"You took a chance you'd no business to take," growled Scott. "When I told
+you to stay down in that arroyo, I meant stay."
+
+"I know you did but I couldn't," apologized Polly.
+
+"The only thing you did wrong was not leaving that young reptile in the
+middle of the road like the thieves did those women," pronounced Mrs. Van
+Zandt, authoritatively.
+
+"I thought of it but I didn't have the heart," said Polly. "After all,
+he'd been kind to me, and he is a gentleman."
+
+"Gentleman! My God!" Scott's profanity was innocent with true horror.
+
+"First time I ever heard a hoss-thief called a gentleman," chuckled Matt.
+
+"Well," Polly looked a bit crestfallen. "I mean, he's educated and he
+comes of good family."
+
+"I don't go much on family," said Mrs. Van, wisely. "I've seen some mighty
+mean skunks hangin' around stage doors who were as blue-blooded as dogs in
+a show. Why, even your own family you can't be too sure about! I had an
+old auntie who used to say she never went back of second cousins--'twasn't
+safe."
+
+"Well, that's true, too," pronounced Matt. "Some don't feel easy even with
+seconds." He gathered up his dishes and followed Mrs. Van into the kitchen
+with them. Polly ate industriously, while Scott stalked to the window and
+stood lighting a cigarette.
+
+"Mr. Scott," she said, after a long pause, "are you worried about Jimmy
+Adams?"
+
+"Yes, I am," was the curt reply.
+
+"Isn't there a doctor in Conejo?"
+
+"Yes, but he's a dirty scoundrel; I'd hate to have him handle a case like
+this. We may have to, though, thanks to your gentleman friend."
+
+"You're rather a rude person, aren't you?"
+
+"I reckon so. Anyhow, if he's a gentleman, I'm afraid I'd never pass
+muster."
+
+"Still," persisted Polly, pleasantly, "you will admit that he is
+agreeable?"
+
+"Agreeable nothing!" growled Scott. "He's a disreputable young varmint,
+and no decent girl ought to speak to him."
+
+Polly smiled and rising, gathered up her plate and cup and carried them to
+the hole in the wall. Then she walked over to the window and said
+confidentially:
+
+"I think it would be fun if you would tell me some of the things he's
+done. Not the yarn about the actress and the man higher up--Mr. Hard told
+me that--but some other really exciting ones."
+
+"I'm not sufficiently interested in the chap," replied Scott, gruffly.
+"Perhaps you'd like to carry him his dinner and ask him to tell you
+himself."
+
+"I would," replied the girl, promptly. "I thought perhaps you were
+thinking of starving him."
+
+"No, I don't care to starve him. I want to swap him off for our horses, if
+I can. He ain't worth a dozen or two good horses, but we can try."
+
+"Well, of course, we have the car to make things square."
+
+"Yes, we have the car, in case we have to quit in a hurry."
+
+"Quit? You mean before Bob comes back?" the girl's face was a bit scared.
+
+"We may get orders to close up the mine. You heard what he said--that the
+state had seceded? Well, that means civil war, and civil war in Mexico can
+mean a good many things. I'm not sure that I want two women on my hands
+under the circumstances."
+
+"What are you talking about, Marc Scott? Is it a Yaqui rising?" Mrs. Van
+Zandt thrust her head through the hole in the wall.
+
+"I don't know what it is. Pachuca says there's a revolution on. I'm hoping
+to get more news about it when Hard comes back."
+
+"I don't take much stock in these Yaqui yarns," said Matt, coming back
+with another supply of food.
+
+"Them Indians ain't half as bad as the greasers like to make out. Of
+course, they feel like they had a right to raise thunder now and then
+because they know they ain't been treated white. But you take it from me,
+I've been knockin' around Mexico for some time, and nine times out of ten
+there's a greaser back of everything that's laid at a Yaqui's door."
+
+"That's true enough," nodded Mrs. Van.
+
+"I made up my mind when I read in that El Paso paper that there was going
+to be a Yaqui rising and that the gov'ment was orderin' troops into
+Sonora, that the gov'ment most probably had somethin' up its sleeve."
+
+"Most likely," acceded Scott.
+
+"Well, I don't expect to understand Mexican politics," said Polly, "but
+why, if Mr. Carranza wants to be president again, doesn't he come out like
+a little man and say so, instead of trying to stir up things with
+troops?"
+
+"He can't be president again. The constitution under which he took office
+forbids a second term," replied Scott. "He might be military dictator,
+however, if he stirred up a revolution and came out on top. That's what
+the Sonora people say. But you can't tell; it may be a square deal and
+there may be a Yaqui rising."
+
+"Even then this ain't the place for women folks," grumbled O'Grady.
+
+"Nor men neither," retorted Mrs. Van Zandt. "I've been trying to get Mr.
+Herrick on the 'phone to let him know there was trouble on board, but I
+couldn't even get Central."
+
+"Pachuca would attend to that, of course," said Scott. "We'll drive over
+there in the morning and see if he doesn't want to come back with us."
+
+"Am I really going to see that fascinating person?" sighed Polly. "I'm
+beginning to think he's just hot air."
+
+"Mighty little hot air about old Herrick," chuckled Matt. "All wool and a
+yard wide, I'd say."
+
+"Well, he is. That's more than I'd say about a good many artistic chaps,"
+remarked Mrs. Van. "Most of 'em I hate--they're so crooked. The Lord
+starts 'em weak and the women finish 'em. He sure can play, though.
+Regular pictures--some of the things he composes. I can see the cows
+grazing on the hills in some of 'em."
+
+"How queer of him to stay down here!" said the girl, wonderingly.
+
+"Why?" demanded Scott, warmly. "It seems to me that a country like this
+has a lot more to offer that kind of man than your cities have. What's New
+York or Chicago got to give him like these grim old mountains, and the
+lonesome little canyons with the cows feeding up and down hunting for
+water holes, and the Mexican folks with their soft voices and fancy
+manners and all the rest of it?"
+
+"Cows are queer," continued Mrs. Van, pursuing her own thought cheerfully.
+"Ever see the old ones get between you and the calves when you rode by
+'em? Awful kind of human, they are."
+
+Scott chuckled. "One summer I was up in New Mexico on a ranch when they
+were rounding up. They brought in the cattle from all over the place; for
+days they were getting in strays out of the canyons. Among them were two
+old bulls. Funny old codgers they were, and as much alike as two peas in a
+pod--fat, chunky, ragged looking old rascals.
+
+"Well, all during the round-up those old boys stayed together--in the bull
+pen and out. We named them Tweedledum and Tweedledee. By George, after
+they'd been turned out on the range again, I was riding down a canyon
+about a couple of miles from the ranch, and who should I see but those two
+old pals, hoofing it together as chummy as two old men walking in the
+park."
+
+"Well, how's the chow?" Johnson's voice came from the doorway. "Not much
+left, I should say, judging from the happy faces I see around me."
+
+"Come in, Tommy, I'm just gettin' something ready for that Mexican, but
+there's plenty for you," said Mrs. Van.
+
+"Where'd you put the feller?"
+
+"In Hard's office," said Scott. "Will you cart him his grub, Matt?"
+
+"You said I might. I want to," protested Polly.
+
+"Certainly." Scott handed her the key ceremoniously. "You've earned the
+right to have your own way to-night, but Matt goes with you. He's not
+above throttling you to make a getaway."
+
+"It's a funny world," mused Polly, as she walked along beside Matt, who
+carried the tray balanced aloft on one outstretched palm. "Three weeks ago
+I was going to teas at the Blackstone; now I'm carrying grub to a Mexican
+bandit with the assistance of a fireman. How awfully well you carry that
+tray!" she said, admiringly.
+
+"Sure! Learned to do that one winter in Minneapolis when I was out of a
+job. Handy sort of thing to know."
+
+"Oh!" gasped the girl. Then to herself: "Why should I think it queer?
+Cousin Ben put himself through college by waiting on the students at table
+and we thought he had a lot of pep to do it."
+
+"You go on up and holler to the guy that we're coming but don't you open
+the door till I get there. He might paste you one."
+
+Polly complied. She sprang up the stairs with a freedom of motion that won
+O'Grady's silent admiration.
+
+"Some action!" he commented. "Takes them stairs as easy as a pussy-cat
+goes up a tree. Some girl that! Old Scotty's jealous of the greaser--do
+him good--he's gettin' to be a regular old settin' hen. Hope she shakes
+him up a bit."
+
+"Senor Pachuca!" called Polly at the top of the stairs. "We've brought you
+some supper. May we come in?"
+
+"Gracias, senorita, but that rests with you," was the response.
+
+"I'm going to open it. He won't do anything," said Polly, decidedly.
+
+The room was dimly lighted. In the open window sat Pachuca--outside lay
+the open country, moonlit and lovely, the grim coloring of the day now
+touched with silvery softness. Pachuca leaped to his feet and relieved the
+girl of the tray which he placed on the desk.
+
+"I am obliged," he said, with a touch of a sneer. "The services of a major
+domo and a beautiful waitress are more than I expected."
+
+"If you ask me, I'd say it was more than you deserve," replied Matt,
+tersely. "I'm going out to sit on the stairs. If the lady wants to stop
+and visit with you she can, but don't you try no monkey tricks because
+they won't go down. I'm heeled."
+
+Pachuca shrugged his shapely shoulders, seated himself and began to eat.
+
+"I am hungry," he admitted. "I have had what you call a hard day's work."
+
+"I wish," said the girl, severely, "that you'd tell me why you do such
+things? You're a gentleman--not a bandit."
+
+"Of course I'm not a bandit." Pachuca's composure appeared to be deserting
+him. "You do not seem to understand--you Americans--that Mexico is our
+country and that we must deal with its political situations independently
+of you and your affairs."
+
+"Oh," innocently, "I didn't know that political situations demanded
+blankets and victrola records."
+
+"You must make allowances for my people. They are poor and ignorant."
+
+"It isn't the people we complain about. They only do what you tell them
+to. Why should you come and tell them to stop working for us?"
+
+"In your country it is only the walking delegate who does that?" grinned
+Pachuca.
+
+"That's different. This wasn't a strike. These men didn't want to stop
+work."
+
+"My dear girl, you seem to have lost sight of the fact that a revolution
+is taking place. It is their duty to stop working and to fight."
+
+"It always seems to be their duty to fight and they never get anything out
+of it!"
+
+"They do get something out of it. They got their land when they overthrew
+Diaz. With Carranza, they got a new constitution. With Obregon, they will
+get peace and a good government."
+
+"Then you are for Obregon?"
+
+"Naturally. But I must have men and horses and munitions. I--Juan
+Pachuca--cannot fight in the ranks."
+
+"I don't see why not," said Polly, candidly. "My brother fought in the
+ranks and he's a college man. He didn't mind."
+
+"Oh, well, in America--that is different! You have no ideas as to family.
+I beg your pardon, what I mean is, that your people are different."
+
+"Well, I hope we are," replied Polly, piously. "But I'm afraid some of us
+aren't as different as we ought to be."
+
+"Now we are even," said the Mexican, showing his white teeth. "And you
+know why I took your men and horses. They will be made good to you when
+the country becomes settled."
+
+"I hope so, but it seems to me you're going to have so many people to
+settle with that some of us are going to come out at the little end. Of
+course, your car will help some."
+
+Pachuca frowned. "Senorita," he said, gravely, "I must have the car and I
+must get away from here to-night. Much depends upon it. Won't you help
+me?" He leaned toward her as he spoke, his dark eyes luminous, his voice
+soft and caressing.
+
+"The tiger kitty is purring," thought Polly. "It's a nice kitty but I
+mustn't pet it. Senor," she said, "I'm sorry, but I can't."
+
+"Say rather that you won't."
+
+Polly fingered the key which she had taken from Matt. Then she put it in
+the pocket of her sweater.
+
+"It would be easy," said Pachuca, persuasively. "You could throw it into
+the window there when everyone was asleep."
+
+"It would be easy," agreed Polly, "but it wouldn't be nice."
+
+Pachuca ate for a moment in silence. "I suppose," he said, finally, "that
+an American girl never does anything that is not nice?"
+
+"Well, I'd hardly go as far as to say that," replied Polly, "but I don't
+think you'd find many who would be as dishonest as--oh, what's the use?
+You know I'd like to do it for you because you were kind to me, and I do
+not believe you meant to kidnap me----"
+
+"Kidnap you!" wrathfully. "Who said I meant to kidnap you?"
+
+"Oh, nobody, only----"
+
+Pachuca began to laugh; gently at first, then wholeheartedly.
+
+"He is jealous--that good Marc Scott! He told you I wanted to kidnap
+you--like Villa, eh? Does he think a Spanish gentleman so unattractive
+that he has to kidnap a young lady in order to make love to her?"
+
+"I don't know what he thinks and I don't care," said Polly, angrily. "And
+I wouldn't have come here if I had thought you were going to be foolish. I
+wanted to show you that I wasn't ungrateful----"
+
+Pachuca had jumped to his feet and stood between her and the door. His
+manner was respectful and apologetic.
+
+"Senorita, I beg your pardon! Indeed----"
+
+"It's not necessary," said the girl, coldly, trying to pass him.
+
+"No, no, I beg--do not go." Then, in a lower tone, "I had a double reason
+for asking your help. I can be of help to you and to your brother."
+
+Polly paused in some surprise. From the stairway came the sound of
+energetic whistling--a medley of the "Wearin' of the Green" and the "Long,
+Long Trail." Pachuca continued eagerly.
+
+"Yes, it sounds very extravagant, I know; what my brother-in-law used to
+call a bit thick. But I can help you--to a treasure."
+
+"A treasure?" incredulously.
+
+"Exactly. You have heard that I was for a time with Villa?"
+
+Polly nodded.
+
+"Well, in his camp I met some very strange people--among them a fellow
+named Gasca--what you call a bad lot. He told me one night when he was
+very drunk--you know, senorita, how some people talk about their affairs
+when they are drunk?"
+
+Polly's eyes were beginning to shine with excitement.
+
+"He told me that he and his brother had hidden a treasure over in New
+Mexico."
+
+"A treasure! Do you mean pieces-of-eight and Spanish doubloons?"
+
+"Oh, no, I am afraid not. It would be bullion--ore. They took it from one
+of the Fiske, Doane Co. mines in Chihuahua. That is why your brother would
+be interested. Perhaps you have heard of the Sant Ynez mine?"
+
+"Bullion!" Polly's face dropped.
+
+"For me, I would not object to bullion if I could get my hands on it, but
+I can't," said Pachuca, candidly. "Gasca, you understand, had this brother
+who lived in New Mexico, in a lonely sort of a spot on the border, with an
+Indian woman that he had stolen from her people. He helped Gasca get the
+treasure across the border--and they hid it in the canyon where he lived.
+
+"Shortly after that they quarreled and the brother threatened to shoot
+Gasca if he came near the place. Also, he told the border patrol some
+things about Gasca so that he was afraid to go over any more. Just after I
+met Gasca, he had heard, in a roundabout way as my people hear things,
+that the brother had been killed and the Indian woman had died of a
+sickness. Gasca wanted me to go over with him to find out if the treasure
+was still there--he felt sure that it was because he said the brother
+would be afraid to dispose of it without his help--but I had what you call
+other fish to fry. Afterward, Gasca himself was shot for disobeying a
+command of the general. If you will help me to get away I will tell you
+exactly where that treasure is."
+
+Polly rose suddenly, the light of determination in her eyes.
+
+"No," she said, firmly. "I won't. Mr. O'Grady, will you come and help me
+with this tray, please?"
+
+"Sure Mike!" In two strides the fireman was in the room, his eyes looking
+searchingly at both the man and the girl. Pachuca, with a shrug of his
+shoulders, put his hands in his pockets and strode to the window. The
+dishes were piled up in silence, the door was locked--the key returning to
+Polly's sweater pocket, and the two went back to the dining-room.
+
+"Say, was that guy tryin' to get fresh with you?" demanded Matt, as they
+went along. "I set out there on the steps because I thought mebbe you
+wanted to chat with the crittur, being acquaintances like, but if I'd of
+thought that he----"
+
+"No, no, he was trying to bribe me to let him go."
+
+"Let him go? Well, if he ain't got a nerve! What'd he offer you--a castle
+in Spain?"
+
+"No," replied the girl, "a buried treasure in New Mexico."
+
+"What? Well, say, he must have thought you was green to fall for that
+stuff. A bright, wide-awake girl like you, too. Was it under an elm tree
+fifty paces off by moonlight?"
+
+"Why? Couldn't there be a buried treasure in New Mexico?"
+
+"Well, I suppose there could if there's been a fool to bury it; but it
+seems to me I'd of tried something snappier if I'd been him. An oil well,
+or shares in a gold mine, or somethin' first class in the bunk line."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+AT LIBERTY
+
+
+Polly and Matt continued their walk in silence until they reached the
+dining-room. They found Scott sitting as they had left him, smoking and
+thinking; while, through the hole in the wall, Mrs. Van Zandt could be
+seen and heard busy with the dishes.
+
+"Well, did His Nobs enjoy his tea?" asked Scott.
+
+"He did that! Kicked into it like a little man," replied Matt, cheerfully.
+"Also he made the young lady a real sporting proposition."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Oh, don't be absurd!" snapped Polly, disgustedly. "Anybody'd suppose you
+were college boys at the dansant." And she went into the kitchen.
+
+"Well, you see what you get, Matt; you would horn in. What do you mean--a
+sporting proposition?"
+
+"Oh, a rich one. Buried treasure up in New Mexico--secret chart handed
+down to Juan Pachuca by a maiden aunt--I don't know what all--just to get
+the key of the office, but she was too sharp for him."
+
+"I should hope so. Is that Hard?" Scott went to the window as the sound of
+hoof-beats was heard. Down the street came a man on horseback. Silhouetted
+against the moonlight, the tall Bostonian acquired a picturesqueness
+lacking in daylight. "I've got to take Hard out one of these days and
+teach him how to ride," remarked Scott, meditatively. "Jolt some of that
+Boston stiffness out of him."
+
+"You can't," replied the Irishman, placidly. "It's in his blood. His
+ancestors brought it over in the _Mayflower_ with 'em from England. I'll
+bet you Paul Revere rode just like Hard does."
+
+"Shucks, Matt, those English guys can ride--stands to reason they can.
+Look at the cross-country stuff they do! And on an English saddle at
+that."
+
+"Country? The country they ride over's nothing to what the Irish do. A
+feller told me----"
+
+"Hello, boys, what's up? Why the theatre supper?" demanded Hard,
+entering.
+
+He listened to the particulars which poured upon him. "Well," he said,
+finally, "I'm sorry I missed the excitement. 'Twas ever thus. The only
+time our house ever burned down I was at a matinee of the 'Black Crook.'
+Well, you saved the cash?"
+
+"Miss Polly did," grinned Scott. "And we've got the boy that made the
+mischief."
+
+"Jimmy much hurt?"
+
+"Afraid so."
+
+"I was afraid something like this would happen," said Hard. "They told me
+over in Conejo that there was trouble on. They had an all-night session at
+Hermosillo and the state seceded."
+
+"That's what Pachuca says."
+
+"Morgan's taken his family up to Douglas."
+
+"Any news from Bob?"
+
+"Just a letter for Miss Polly."
+
+"We won't desert until we have orders, but I'm rather glad to have the
+car," continued Scott. "I thought we'd run over and see Herrick in the
+morning."
+
+"I say, Scott, that Chinaman of Herrick's is a doctor. Why not have him
+take a look at Jimmy's leg?"
+
+"A Chinaman!" Polly had come in with Hard's coffee.
+
+"Sure!" cried Scott. "Just the thing. I'd forgotten about him. When a
+Chink is scientific, he's as scientific as the devil."
+
+"He came over to practice medicine; you know how the Mexicans feel about
+the Chinese? His money went and he had to do what he could. Herrick picked
+him up somewhere and he's been there ever since," said Hard.
+
+"We'll get him over here for Jimmy. He's clean at any rate."
+
+"Listen to this!" Polly had opened her letter. "It's from Mother," she
+explained. "Poor old Bob's in the hospital--just been operated on for
+appendicitis! Isn't that the limit? On a honeymoon!"
+
+"Hard luck," commented Scott. "How's he coming on?"
+
+"She says he's doing splendidly. You see, he's been dodging that operation
+for the last ten years, and now it's got him, poor boy. Mother says
+they're worried to death about me."
+
+"And well they may be," remarked Mrs. Van Zandt, heartily.
+
+"She says the directors have met but didn't do anything."
+
+"That sounds natural," said Hard. "They've been doing that for the last
+three years."
+
+"Trying to figure out which costs less; to give up the property, or to pay
+us our salaries to hold it down," chuckled Scott.
+
+"She says I am to come home at once," continued Polly, "but that I am not
+to try to travel alone. Either Mr. Scott or Mr. Hard is to go with me to
+the border."
+
+"I'm glad somebody in your family has got good sense," said Scott, grimly.
+"It's a pity those things aren't hereditary."
+
+"Thank you. I think I prefer to have Mr. Hard go."
+
+Hard bowed solemnly. "Bob coming back?" he asked.
+
+"As soon as they'll let him," said Bob's sister, promptly.
+
+"Yes, he likes a scrap," remarked Scott. "I hope they keep the papers away
+from him this next week. Well, it's lucky for you, Miss Polly, that we've
+got Pachuca's car. Traveling on these railroads is bad enough at any time,
+but with a brand new revolution on hand, it'll be the deuce."
+
+"I think it's rather horrid of them not to care whether I go home or not,"
+Polly told herself, as she undressed for bed. "They might at least pretend
+they don't want me to go! I always supposed that the one girl in a mining
+camp would be dazzlingly popular--but this doesn't look much like it. And
+yet--he likes me, I know he does! He liked my bringing the car back; I saw
+it in his eyes, if he did make fun of me.
+
+"He's jealous of Don Juan, too. Well, that won't do him any harm. He's so
+determined not to fall in love with me that he's going to need a little
+outside interference to make him change his mind. He's got to change his
+mind because I--yes, I do care for him--a lot. People may think these
+things don't come suddenly outside of books, but they do--oh, they do!"
+And, worn out by the exertions of the day, Polly curled herself in a knot
+and prepared to sleep.
+
+Juan Baptisto Pachuca had not availed himself of the shakedown made for
+him by Mrs. Van Zandt's blankets. He had put out his light because he
+wanted to think and he preferred thinking by moonlight. He sat in Hard's
+office chair by the window, closed now, for the night was cool, and
+drummed impatiently upon the arm of it.
+
+Mentally, Pachuca was more than impatient; he was outraged. His plans had
+been spoiled, his liberty restricted and his dignity impaired. He had been
+made to look ridiculous. Of all the offenses against him the latter was
+the most serious. He hated giving up anything he had put his mind on, but
+he hated a great deal more being made ridiculous.
+
+Nor was it pleasant to be triumphed over by a girl. Juan Pachuca liked
+girls, especially good-looking ones, but he liked them in their places,
+not in the larger affairs of life. When they insisted upon mixing
+themselves up with such affairs, they ceased, in his estimation, to be
+pretty girls and became merely tiresome members of the other sex.
+
+Had Polly Street given in to his proposals of escape he would have felt in
+a better temper with her, but he would not have been at all tempted to
+fall in love with her. He had been in the mood for that once--the night
+they had come over from Conejo together--but Fate, or the girl herself, or
+Marc Scott, he had hardly taken the time to decide which, had interfered
+and that was over.
+
+Pachuca bore Polly no ill will for her part in that affair. That was her
+province--a love affair. A lady had the privilege of granting or denying
+her favors; it was not always because she wanted to that she denied them.
+He knew a good deal about that sort of thing and he was willing to give
+and take very agreeably in the game of love, without repining if things
+didn't seem to be going his way.
+
+This, however, was a question of business and Juan Pachuca considered that
+any woman who could get ahead of him in a matter of business would have to
+get up exceedingly early in the morning. He would get out of that room or
+he would know the reason why. It was highly important that he should. In
+fact, his plans for the next few days depended absolutely upon his so
+doing.
+
+Pachuca's business head, for all his conceit about it, was exceedingly
+primitive. His had been rather a primitive career from its beginning.
+Hard's story of the actress, while not entirely correct, had its
+foundation in fact. Pachuca had been disgraced; to be disgraced in any
+manner is bad enough, but to be disgraced for doing something that you
+know quite well is being done in perfect security by most of the people
+with whom you are connected is particularly galling.
+
+Aching to thwart the government he hated, Pachuca hastened to ally himself
+with its particular enemy and to work against it with all the impetuosity
+of his nature. But Francisco Villa was not an easy man for anyone as heady
+as Juan Pachuca to get on with. There were quarrels and more quarrels, and
+finally Pachuca, again disgusted with the world and its people, retired to
+private life.
+
+He was not, however, built for private life. Some of us are like that. We
+need the excitement and the stimulus of action to bring out our better
+points. Also, Pachuca's friends were not of the sort who cared much for
+the quiet life. In those few months of association with the great Villa,
+he had met men of various kinds; men who were honestly trying to do
+something for Mexico; men who were dishonestly trying to do something for
+themselves; and men who were in such a truly desperate frame of mind after
+ten years of revolution, banditry, and general upset, that they scarcely
+knew what they were doing.
+
+Pachuca, who for all his aristocratic blood, was an exceedingly good
+mixer, had enjoyed these various and sundry associations and in the quiet
+of private life he yearned for them. Very much as a celebrated actress
+feels the lure of the footlights after she has left them for matrimony and
+the fireside, very much as the superannuated fire horse is said to react
+to the alarm, so Pachuca yearned for the agreeable persons with whom he
+had foregathered since leaving the army.
+
+When there were rumors of another revolution, he began to think of looking
+up some of these exceedingly live wires, and seeing what could be done for
+Freedom, Mexico, and Juan Pachuca. It was with the idea of informing
+himself as to these matters that he had taken the journey which had
+resulted in his meeting with Polly Street, and the fortnight which she had
+spent in Athens had been used to accomplish a number of things.
+
+Himself rather a good judge of which way the political cat might be
+expected to jump at this particular crisis, Pachuca had decided to throw
+in his lot with the Obregonistas. He knew Obregon, knew his hold on the
+people, his popularity with the labor party, and it looked to him very
+much as though that general of fascinating Irish ancestry had a good
+chance of being Mexico's next president.
+
+At the same time he realized perfectly that his own reputation with the
+Obregonistas was not good. Various tales current among Mexicans of
+political standing, in regard to his relations with Villa, would be very
+much against him, and services rendered the Carranza government would
+hardly be likely to stand him in good stead. Pachuca wanted to stand well
+with the new party if he stood with them at all. He intended that the next
+president of Mexico should confer upon him an office of distinction, and
+offices of this sort must be earned, not only in Mexico but anywhere. In
+the great republic near by which Pachuca hoped some day to visit,
+preferably on a state mission, things were handled in this way also. If he
+could bring to the revolutionary chiefs of the new party men, arms, and
+money, he might hope for a warm reception.
+
+During the fortnight referred to he had communicated with one Angel
+Gonzales, previously mentioned, who had also quarreled with Villa and been
+rigorously persecuted by him. Gonzales was at the head of a small band
+which he was quite willing to consolidate with Pachuca's men, and they had
+agreed to meet and discuss ways and means. It was toward this rendezvous
+that Pachuca had been journeying when he stopped to raid the Athens mining
+camp.
+
+To be stopped at such a time was not to be endured. Pachuca looked around
+the small room angrily. He looked out of the window. It was a bad drop but
+not an impossible one. An athlete might manage it, he supposed, but he was
+not an athlete--he was a gentleman and a soldier. It would be a nasty
+thing to try it and to break a leg. He had never tried breaking a leg but
+he remembered having heard the family physician say that a broken leg
+meant a six weeks' vacation and he had no mind for a vacation on those
+terms.
+
+He went to the door--locked, of course, he had heard the girl turn the
+key, but one might burst it open. He tried, several times, but the door
+held maddeningly. There was no transom, no other door--nothing but the
+plastered walls and the window. He turned again to the window, and threw
+it open. The cool night air came in refreshingly. In the distance, the
+dark shapes of the mountains stood out forbiddingly in the moonlight.
+Millions of stars winked and twinkled. Gaunt cacti reared their ungainly
+shapes--beautiful because of their very ugliness.
+
+Somewhere over in those mountains Angel Gonzales was wending a torturous
+path to meet him. Angel would swear and rage when he did not come. Then he
+would probably annex Pachuca's men and their plunder and go cheerfully on
+his way. That would be Angel's idea of the philosophical manner of
+handling the situation. Juan ground his white teeth in a fury. Again he
+hung out of the window. The moonlight was so glaring that he was easily
+visible had anyone been watching, but all the lights in Athens were out
+and the inhabitants in bed.
+
+Pachuca swung lightly out of the window and with a very cattish agility
+caught the sill with both hands and lowered himself. He looked down. It
+was the devil of a drop. Ten chances to one he would turn an ankle at the
+very least. He made a wry face. One does not do things successfully when
+one does them in this frame of mind. With an effort surprising in one so
+slight he drew himself back into the window again. There must be another
+way. It was positively not on the cards for him to be fooled in this
+stupid manner. He could see his car standing near the corral and the sight
+urged him to greater efforts.
+
+He paced angrily up and down the floor. It was a very solid floor. As far
+as he was concerned it might be regarded as an invincible floor. If he had
+a pick, perhaps--Pachuca's eyes brightened, and a roguish look came into
+them. He had been thinking as he often did in English, being practically
+bi-lingual, and the word suggested something to him. Why not pick the
+lock? He felt eagerly in his pocket for his knife--left, alas, in the
+pocket of his leather coat in the machine. Still, there might be one
+somewhere about. In the desk, perhaps. The saints would help a good
+Spaniard, undoubtedly. Pachuca was not unduly religious, and he could not
+recall at the moment any saint renowned for picking locks, so he let it go
+at that and began to hunt. Some sort of tool might be found in the desk.
+
+The desk yielded pencils, pens, erasers, and other harmless implements
+without number, but nothing even remotely resembling a knife. Pachuca
+slammed the drawers angrily and resumed his tramping. The night was
+getting on and he was apparently no nearer freedom than when the girl had
+left him. He cursed volubly and disgustedly.
+
+"I suppose if I had the shoulders of that abominable Scott I could break
+the door!" he muttered. "On the other hand," he mused, grimly, "if I had
+had his brains I would not be here. It was a foolish business--trying to
+confiscate American property. It rarely pays." Pachuca, like the famous
+Mr. Pecksniff, believed in keeping up appearances even with one's self.
+His attempt was confiscation distinctly and not robbery. "It was talking
+with the American girl that day on the train that put it into my head. She
+would talk about her brother and his mine. Juan Pachuca, when will you
+learn to let women alone? Every time a woman comes upon the scene
+something disagreeable happens--and usually to you."
+
+He paused by the window and surveyed it distastefully. "If I have to go
+out by that window, I will--but I do not like it. If I could bribe someone
+to put up a ladder! But they are all asleep--the lazy fools."
+
+He glanced at the shakedown which Mrs. Van Zandt had sent over by Miller,
+the idea of a rope ladder made of sheets having floated idly through his
+head. Alas, the shakedown consisted of a small hard mattress and a couple
+of blankets, army blankets at that. Anyone who can make a rope ladder of
+army blankets, with nothing more solid to fasten them to than a rickety
+old desk, must be cleverer than even Juan Pachuca considered himself.
+
+With a sigh of surrender he returned to the window. It was the only way;
+broken bones or no broken bones, it must be attempted. If he were unlucky
+enough to meet with disaster, he must crawl as far as the car, and once in
+the car he defied anyone, white, brown or black to stop him. If only they
+had left him his gun!
+
+Carefully Pachuca balanced himself once more on the window and swung
+himself out, still clinging to the sill. The drop looked easier than it
+had before; he felt almost cheerful about it. Give him five minutes alone
+in the moonlight and he would have his liberty, his car and his triumph
+over Gringo carelessness. At the same moment, there arose out of the
+stillness the loud and penetrating bark of an aroused dog.
+
+Yellow, who slept anywhere, being a tramp dog by nature, had elected to
+pass the night outside Scott's window, and the cabin in which Scott was
+sleeping was across the street and only a few feet away from the window
+from which Pachuca was trying to escape. Not content with barking, the
+interfering Yellow started on a gallop for the peculiar looking person
+hanging out of the window. Almost instantly, a light flashed in Scott's
+room and a head was thrust out of the window.
+
+With an exasperated groan Pachuca drew himself back again and waited.
+Scott's head was withdrawn, and two seconds later, Scott, himself, clad in
+pajamas and a bathrobe, dashed out of the cabin and was met by another
+figure which seemed to spring from nowhere. Pachuca thought the second
+figure looked like Miller, the man who had brought his blankets, but he
+was not sure. By this time the dog had stopped barking and was following
+the two men. Pachuca stood in the window, waiting developments. Scott
+looked up with evident relief.
+
+"You're there, are you?" he said.
+
+"So it appears," disgustedly. "Am I a cat to scramble out of a window?"
+
+"Well, Yellow was barking at something," replied Scott, with a grin.
+"Might have been a plain, four-footed one, and it might have been a human
+puss. If you don't mind, I reckon I'll tie him to the front door down
+here. He's rough on cats."
+
+"Suit yourself, _amigo_, I'm going to sleep," was the disdainful reply.
+
+Well, that ended going out by the window. Pachuca, having a Latin dislike
+for fresh air in the sleeping-room, closed the window angrily and threw
+himself down on the mattress. It was hard and there was no pillow. The
+blankets he would need to keep him warm. Pachuca, though used to
+hardships, dearly loved his comfort. He glanced around the room again; an
+old office coat hanging on a peg in a corner caught his eye. It would do
+for a pillow. He took it down and rolled it into a wad. As he did so, a
+clinking sound became audible. He reached into the pocket--a bunch of keys
+and an old hunting-knife came to light.
+
+Pachuca grinned. Well, Heaven was looking out for its own; it was not in
+the nature of things that a Pachuca should be trampled in the dust by the
+proletariat! Patiently, one after another, he tried the keys--ah, the
+right one at last! He turned it and the door opened. Pachuca chuckled
+delightedly; it pleased his whimsicality to think that so apparently
+unsurmountable a difficulty should be solved in so plain and unromantic a
+fashion.
+
+He returned to the window and saw Scott and Miller standing outside
+Scott's cabin; saw Scott go inside and the cabin become dark once more and
+Miller go on down the street, stopping at the last house near the corral.
+Pachuca frowned. Was the fellow going in and going to bed like a
+Christian, or was he going to hang around and keep an eye on the car? This
+last would be extremely awkward. Miller, however, turned in at the house
+and disappeared.
+
+Pachuca spent five minutes at the window watching, but he did not
+reappear. "Ah well, one must risk something!" he mused, and glanced down
+at the sleeping Yellow. Cautiously and with the soft step of one who has
+learned the wisdom of a silent tread, the young man slid down the
+stairway. The door at the foot of the stairs was open; it opened outward
+and they had tied the dog back of it.
+
+Juan Pachuca opened the hunting-knife and surveyed it in a business-like
+fashion. There was a sudden movement of his arm and poor Yellow shivered
+and crumpled up noiselessly. Quietly, the knife still in his hand, Pachuca
+slipped behind the building and continued his way toward the corral. He
+reached the car unhindered and breathed a sigh of relief; the rest would
+be plain sailing. A peep into the tonneau showed him that the plunder had
+been removed; but that, of course, he had expected. He jumped into the car
+and started the engine. At the same moment, a burly figure rushed out of
+the house near by, caught at the car as it started, clung to the
+running-board and, leaning over, seized Pachuca by the arm.
+
+It was Miller; Miller, who had indeed gone to bed, but whose bed was near
+the window of the little cabin, and who had been keeping one eye on the
+car and had emerged, scantily attired in a nightshirt tucked into a pair
+of trousers, to put a spoke in the Mexican's wheel. Pachuca set his teeth!
+It was too much--to be so near liberty and then to lose it. A desperate
+look came into his eyes; he paid no attention to the angry demand of his
+assailant that he stop the car, but, making a sudden lunge, he drove the
+hunting-knife into the shoulder of the big man.
+
+"Damn you, put up that knife!" choked Miller, seeing the blow coming but
+not quickly enough to dodge it. With one hand clutching the car and one
+holding Pachuca, he was too late to reach his gun. By the time he loosed
+his hold on the Mexican, the knife had reached its mark; a knife none too
+sharp, but driven by a practiced hand, it pierced the flesh, and with a
+groan, Miller dropped off the running-board into the road.
+
+Ah, the good car! Pachuca sang with joy as it leaped ahead into the
+darkness. They would be awake in a moment, the lazy Gringos, but what of
+it? He would be out of their reach. He laughed as he flew past the house
+where Polly slept.
+
+"Adieu, pretty American! I kiss your hand--until we meet again!"
+
+Something struck the back of the car with a sharp, tearing sound. Pachuca
+turned with a grin. A light had sprung up in the house into which he had
+seen Scott go. With another chuckle, the young Mexican bent over the wheel
+and whirled down the road toward freedom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE DISCOVERY
+
+
+Marc Scott was slow in falling asleep on the night of Pachuca's escape. He
+was in the habit of rolling over a few times and losing himself; but on
+this particular night he was tormented by half a dozen ugly little
+worries. He was worried about Adams, whose leg had a nasty look to the
+unprofessional eye; he was worried about Pachuca, whose case was going to
+require a good deal of finesse; and he was worried about Polly Street, who
+had to be conveyed to the border, revolution or no revolution.
+
+The most pressing danger on his horizon, Scott did not worry about because
+he did not recognize it. He was like one of those patients in whose system
+a deadly disease has started, but who remains in perfect health to all
+outward appearances. He was in happy ignorance of his feelings for Polly
+Street. He had been in love times enough, he would have told you, to know
+the symptoms; all of which was quite true, but the fact remained that this
+time he did not know them.
+
+Polly Street was so exactly the sort of girl that Marc Scott had not the
+faintest idea of falling in love with, much less marrying, that he would
+have dismissed the possibility with a shrug. He, who valued his freedom
+above everything, to throw it away for exactly the kind of woman who would
+take the greatest pleasure in trampling on it? As for his jealousy of Juan
+Pachuca, which should have opened his eyes, he put it aside easily. He
+didn't like the fellow--never had--and it annoyed him to see a decent girl
+allowing herself to be humbugged by his good looks and oily tongue.
+
+It was a pity, for she was a plucky young thing. She had done well to
+bring back the prisoner and his car; mighty few girls would have had the
+courage to try it. It was foolish, of course, a regular kid
+trick--wouldn't have succeeded once in a dozen times, but nevertheless,
+she had shown pluck. It was at this stage in his reflections that he had
+been disturbed by Yellow's barking and had gone out to investigate. The
+air and the action had changed his circulation and his thought and when he
+went to bed the second time he dropped off easily.
+
+This time he was aroused by the noise of the engine started by Pachuca on
+his escape. At first he hardly realized what it was that had wakened him,
+but as it dawned on his consciousness, he jumped to his feet and rushed to
+the window in time to see the car tear down the road. With a muttered
+exclamation, Scott seized his gun and sent a bullet wildly in the
+direction of the escaping prisoner. Then he drew on his trousers, calling
+to Hard at the same time.
+
+"What's wrong? Another raid?" growled the sleepy Bostonian, who had dozed
+peacefully through Pachuca's first attempt.
+
+"No. The guy's got away," snapped Scott, angrily.
+
+"Well, we didn't particularly need him, did we?" observed Hard, sitting up
+reluctantly.
+
+"We needed his car and needed it bad," said Scott, viciously. He tramped
+out of the room, while Hard reached drowsily for his clothes.
+
+"By George, he must have made it through the window!" he muttered as he
+crossed the street, then as he came upon the body of the dog, thrown aside
+behind the open door, "The dirty butcher!" he growled, furiously. "And I
+didn't have sense enough to search him for a knife!"
+
+Outside, he met O'Grady and Johnson, sketchily dressed and wrathful.
+
+"You heard him, too, did you?" he growled. "He got out by the window. This
+is some of his work," he continued, pointing to Yellow.
+
+"He did not," said O'Grady, promptly. "Did you ever hear of a guy jumping
+out of a second-story winder and shutting it after him?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Sure--it's shut," grinned Johnson. "He come out of the door all right.
+It's wide open, and not hurt, either."
+
+"Who let him out? Where's the key? You had it, O'Grady."
+
+"I did not--you handed it to the girl, yourself. She locked him in all
+right; I heard her do it," replied O'Grady quickly.
+
+"That explains it," said Scott, shortly. "She came over here and let him
+out. Might have expected it, I suppose, with a flighty youngster and a
+smooth talker like Pachuca." He turned away in the direction of the
+house.
+
+"He's mad!" murmured Johnson, admiringly. He liked a little excitement
+himself.
+
+"Mad? He's jealous, the fool!" Matt offered, disgustedly.
+
+"Jealous? Who of? The greaser?"
+
+"Sure. Good-looking, Juan is, and a winner with the dames."
+
+"Scott's one of them woman haters. What d'ye mean--jealous?"
+
+"Woman haters?" Matt spat disdainfully. "There ain't no such thing as a
+woman hater, Tommy, in the whole animal kingdom. Don't you fall for none
+of that stuff. But, believe me, that girl never opened that door. She's a
+straight, honest, smart girl, if she is flighty."
+
+"Well, if she didn't, who did?"
+
+"I don't know. I ain't sleuthed around enough yet to find out. Hullo,
+here's Boston--half asleep, too."
+
+Scott was angry clear through. He did not stop to analyze his emotions--he
+was not of an analytical mind--and he did not care why he was angry. He
+felt that Polly Street, a girl of whom he was beginning to think rather
+highly, had done an unsportsmanlike thing; a thing that Bob's sister ought
+to have been ashamed to do; had disgraced the family, so to speak, and had
+seriously inconvenienced him into the bargain.
+
+Scott had depended on that automobile for various things. He wanted it to
+fetch a doctor for Jimmy, and to take Polly, herself, to the border in
+comfort. Both these important things she had jeopardized because she had
+been coaxed into it by a soft-spoken young man with dark eyes. The
+treasure story he put aside. Even a girl from the East would hardly have
+taken that stuff seriously, he thought.
+
+He would have felt just the same, he reasoned, had the culprit been Bob
+instead of Bob's sister. There was, thank Heaven, nothing soft about him!
+He could see and hear and even enjoy a good-looking girl without making a
+fool of himself. That was the beauty of being on the way to forty--one saw
+things in their right light--and did not make a fool of one's self over
+girls.
+
+"Marc Scott, are we being raided again or what? Did I hear a shot and a
+machine going by or was I dreaming?" demanded Mrs. Van, who, clad in a
+blanket kimono, her feet thrust into moccasins, and a gay-looking pink
+boudoir cap on her head, came to the door before Scott reached it. In her
+rear could be dimly seen another figure, wrapped in a gray blanket.
+
+"You ought to know," said Scott, rudely; focussing his attention on the
+pink cap and ignoring the blanketed figure in the rear.
+
+"What do you mean--I ought to know?" indignantly.
+
+"Somebody has unlocked the office door and let that half-breed get away
+and he's taken his car with him," said Scott. "The key's in your
+house--that's all."
+
+"Of course it's in this house. It's in the pocket of my sweater," answered
+Polly, indignantly. "If you think I let him out----" She was too angry to
+continue.
+
+"Well, he didn't get out by the window because it's shut, and there's no
+chimney for him to melt out of."
+
+"Look here, Marc Scott, ain't you ashamed of yourself? Coming here and
+talking to ladies like that--and in the middle of the night, too." Mrs.
+Van Zandt was as angry as the other two. "That key couldn't get out of
+this house to-night without my knowing it. He's brainy enough to get out
+without help, that fellow."
+
+"He may be brainy, but he's hardly brilliant enough to go through a locked
+door," said Scott, obstinately. "Somebody let him out, that's all. If
+you'll be kind enough to look for the key, Miss Street, and see if it's
+been taken away----"
+
+"How could it be? From my room?" demanded Polly, angrily.
+
+"Are you going to hold an inquest over it?" asked Mrs. Van, cuttingly. "I
+see the jury coming along."
+
+Johnson, O'Grady and Hard were coming across the street. Polly drew her
+blanket closely around her and tucked one bare foot behind the other. Her
+reddish colored braids gave her a squaw-like appearance in the darkness.
+
+"It's all right, Scotty, don't stir up the community," called Hard,
+cheerfully. "I'm the guilty party."
+
+"You!"
+
+"It never dawned on me till I saw the unlocked door," confessed Hard, with
+a chuckle. "The chap must have found that old bunch of keys that's been
+knocking around in the pocket of my old office coat. I'm afraid that's
+where he got the knife that did for poor Yellow, too."
+
+"Do you mean there was a duplicate key?" demanded Scott.
+
+"There must have been. Clever chap to ferret it out," replied Hard,
+breezily.
+
+"Mighty clever. I could open a door myself with a key in my hand,"
+muttered Scott, as he turned away. "Well, he's gone and the car's gone and
+we might as well go back to bed."
+
+"Just one moment." Polly's voice was clear and firm. "I think you owe me
+an apology, Mr. Scott."
+
+There was a suppressed chuckle from the rear where the train gang still
+lingered. Scott stiffened and cleared his throat consciously.
+
+"I apologize," he said; then, as he saw the others disappear down the
+street, "Will you shake hands?"
+
+"Not right now; I'm going to think it over," said the girl, coolly. "I
+think you should have known that I wouldn't do a thing like that."
+
+"Well, I did know it, of course," confessed Scott, helplessly. "But----"
+
+"But you didn't believe it." Polly's voice was cutting. "Well, next time
+have a little more faith in your friends, Mr. Scott," and the blanketed
+figure disappeared into the house.
+
+"She had you there," observed Mrs. Van. "Well, go home to bed before you
+wake up Jimmy--it's a wonder he's slept through this all right."
+
+She went into the house and knocked softly at the girl's door--after
+listening a moment and assuring herself that Adams had not wakened.
+Polly's room was dark and she was standing, still wrapped in the blanket,
+by the window in the moonlight.
+
+"Well?" she said, rather curtly.
+
+"Nothing--only----" Mrs. Van's usually glib tongue faltered. "I was just
+going to say that you mustn't take Marc Scott too--too--I mean, you
+mustn't be too hard on him."
+
+"Hard!"
+
+"Yes. It's just his way; he don't mean to be ugly. He's queer, Scotty is,
+kind of--oh, I don't know how to put it, but he didn't mean to be rude to
+you."
+
+"He was, though, very rude."
+
+"Yes, that's what I mean. It sort of shocked him to think you'd do a thing
+like that and he didn't stop to think."
+
+"Maybe he'll stop to think next time."
+
+"Maybe, but I don't reckon so. Folks like that you can't change much; you
+have to take 'em or leave 'em as they are. He's awful square, though. I'd
+trust him with anything; money, liquor, or women. When you've been around
+as much as I have, you'll know that means something."
+
+In the meantime, Scott, Hard, and the train gang, going down to the corral
+to investigate, found Miller lying as Pachuca had left him, in the middle
+of the road. He was regaining consciousness as they came along, and did
+not seem to be badly hurt, the knife having entered the fleshy part of the
+arm near the shoulder.
+
+"Serves me damn right, bein' so slow with my gun," he said. "I suppose the
+guy got away?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he got away!" muttered Scott, as they helped Miller to bed.
+"That's the kind of luck we're playing in just now around here."
+
+Breakfast next morning was not a particularly cheerful meal. Adams was
+still in bed, and Williams was feverish and cross. Miller seemed little
+the worse for his accident, but he was blue; he had been particularly
+attached to the dog and felt its death more than his own misadventure.
+
+"Blankets, canned goods, saddles--everything they could grab," muttered
+Williams, resentfully. "Nice condition to be in with a revolution
+looming."
+
+"Not looming, loomed," said O'Grady, cheerfully.
+
+"Wish I could get hold of an _Omaha Bee_," murmured Johnson. "I never
+somehow feel like I had a grip on a situation till I've seen my home
+paper."
+
+"I think I'll ride over to Casa Grande this morning and get the doctor,"
+said Hard. "That leg of Jimmy's needs advice."
+
+"I'll go with you." Scott looked at Polly. "Want to go?" he said; then as
+she hesitated, he looked at her penitently, smiling as Scott did not often
+smile, and whispered: "Please do!"
+
+"How mean of him! He knows I'm dying to. How's anybody going to stay mad
+when they want to do things?" said the girl to herself.
+
+"It's too far for her," objected Mrs. Van.
+
+"We'll send the Chink back," said Scott, persuasively, "and we'll stay all
+night with Herrick. We'll make him play for you," he added, as Polly
+smiled in spite of herself. "Will you go?"
+
+"She must," said Hard. "It's her last chance to see the country." And so
+the matter was settled.
+
+"That Chink'll ride the whole twenty miles on a dead run--he'll be here to
+dinner," said Matt. "Ever see a Chinaman ride?"
+
+"He'll ride his own horse, then," replied Scott, as he left the room.
+"Perhaps we'll bring Herrick back with us, Mrs. Van."
+
+"He won't leave that piano of his," prophesied Mrs. Van Zandt. "No more
+than a mother'd leave her baby when there was danger around."
+
+It was ten o'clock when the three riders started on their trip, Scott
+preserving a reasonably cheerful face, in spite of the fact that he hated
+late starts. It was a beautiful morning; the sky, blue and cloudless, the
+air fresh and invigorating with the crispness of early spring, the radiant
+clearness of the atmosphere making neighbors of the mountains, all
+combined to make a tonic which showed signs of going to Polly's head.
+After all, there are few sensations like the starting out upon a horseback
+trip; the mare's springy trot, the freshness of her own healthy body, even
+the feel of the bridle reins brought her joy.
+
+"You look mighty happy," commented Hard. "It must be pleasant to be
+twenty-three."
+
+Polly laughed. "It is," she admitted. "But I'm going to be just as happy
+at forty-three. I've found the recipe."
+
+"Will you sell it to me? My next one happens to be my forty-second. I'll
+be needing it soon."
+
+"I'll make you a present of it. Stay out-of-doors and keep on doing
+things. Of course, I haven't tried it for forty-three years, but I feel in
+my bones that it will work."
+
+"I never could see, myself, how people could spend twenty-two out of their
+twenty-four hours under a roof, the way most of them do," said Scott,
+thoughtfully. "Here, we turn now into the trail."
+
+"That's where Pachuca's men went yesterday," said Polly. "I hope we don't
+meet them."
+
+"No danger of that. Those fly-by-nights are a long way from here by this
+time."
+
+"They told me yesterday in Conejo that Obregon had been put under arrest
+in Mexico City. If that's true it may put a cog in the revolutionary
+machinery," said Hard.
+
+"I wish we'd managed to keep our hands on that automobile," remarked
+Scott, wistfully. "I don't half fancy trying to make the border in a
+wagon, and no one knows how the railroads will be."
+
+The trail debouched from the road, running over ground very slightly
+elevated. There was for some distance no particular reason as far as Polly
+could see for its being a trail at all except that it hadn't been
+sufficiently traveled to make it a road. It was merely a narrow little
+path leading over some very barren-looking country, but leading ever
+upward, gradually but surely, toward the hills.
+
+"You see, the regular road runs fairly straight along toward Conejo for
+maybe twenty miles, and then meets a crossroad which runs past Casa
+Grande," explained Scott. "Now, with this trail, we cut directly across
+those foothills, over a couple of ranges of mountains, across a big mesa
+and down. Casa Grande is almost in a straight line from here and we cut
+off a lot."
+
+"Casa Grande is an awfully fancy sort of name. Is it a wonderful place?"
+
+"Just a good little ranch. These Latins like big sounding names," replied
+Scott. "Casa Grande is very common down here."
+
+A dip in the trail took them into an arroyo and out the other side, where
+they lost sight entirely of Athens. A few moments later, they wound their
+way through some brush into a narrow canyon, walled on one side by hills
+and with a drop of some fifteen feet on the other side into a ravine. Out
+of the ravine grew more brush so densely that it almost crowded the little
+trail out of existence.
+
+Here it was necessary to go single file and Polly noticed how naturally
+Scott took the lead, leaving her to follow and Hard to bring up the rear.
+She noted with some amusement that it seemed characteristic of him to take
+the lead everywhere, just as it seemed quite in keeping with Hard's
+easy-going nature to fall into the rear.
+
+"And yet of the two Mr. Hard has the education and the brains," thought
+the girl. "No, that's not fair. I believe you can have just as good a
+brain without education--only you're hampered in the use of it. Marc Scott
+has what the psychologists call 'initiative.' Oh, look!"
+
+High up in the air a bird had flown out from among the tree-tops on the
+other side of the canyon--a big bird with wide spreading wings.
+
+"It's an eagle."
+
+"An eagle!" Polly was awed.
+
+"There's a nest up there somewhere," said Scott, shading his eyes with his
+hand and peering upward. "Last year I was riding over this trail with
+Gomez, an Indian we had working for us. We were just about here when an
+eagle, a young one, flew out from the trees. Before I could speak, Gomez
+up with his gun and shot it."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I wanted to kill the geezer--but Lord, what can you expect of an
+Indian?"
+
+As they proceeded, Polly found herself riding closer to Scott, while Hard
+lagged behind. She was not displeased. Scott on horseback and in the woods
+was Scott at his best as she was beginning to know.
+
+"I'm wondering," she said, as the mare pushed her nose along the big bay's
+flank, "how you know so much about the country. You aren't a Westerner,
+are you?"
+
+"Me? No, indeed. Born in New York State and raised in Michigan. Never laid
+eyes on anything west of the Mississippi until I came out to Colorado to
+work in the mines. Then I drifted into New Mexico and down here." Scott
+was riding with his knee around the pommel and talking meditatively over
+his shoulder.
+
+"You see, I've got mining in my blood. My grandfather was a Forty-Niner."
+
+"Did he get rich?" asked Polly, interestedly.
+
+"Not so's you'd notice it. Spent all he had and died trying to get home."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Hard luck, wasn't it? My folks went to Detroit when I was a little codger
+and they both died there. I was adopted by an uncle--an uncle who was the
+whitest man God ever made," declared Scott, solemnly.
+
+"Why was he--I mean, how was he?" Polly had by nature that healthy
+capacity for asking questions, which is one of the most flattering
+characteristics that a woman can have or assume.
+
+"He was always doing decent things. Didn't have much money, either, but
+somehow he always made it do for a lot of folks who didn't have any. He
+adopted a girl that wasn't any kin to him, had her educated and then
+married her. She made him a fine wife, too, thought the world of him.
+Well, he adopted me and sent me to school and when he saw I had the roving
+instinct and couldn't stick to the books, he gave me a lift to go West to
+the mines. He knew that there was no use arguing.
+
+"He was queer, too. Didn't like city folks nor their ways. He owned one of
+those big farms out near what's now Grosse Pointe--ran down to the
+river--and when the town began to grow out toward them, instead of holding
+on to his land as it began to get valuable, he'd sell out and go further
+away. Died, leaving Aunt Mary just enough to live comfortably on--might
+have been a millionaire. But Uncle Silas was a wise man.
+
+"Sometimes when I look at these tight-fisted old guys who make their
+millions and tie 'em up into estates to hand down, and then remember Uncle
+Silas--not giving a hoot for money and always pulling along a dozen or two
+poor relations and setting 'em on their feet, living comfortable and
+happy, leaving a wife that's as fond of him to-day as she was the day he
+died--well, I sort of wonder if money and success mean as much as folks
+think they do."
+
+Scott's autobiography was halted by the view which met their eyes as they
+rounded the turn at the top of the canyon. Turning, the narrow trail wound
+its way around the mountainside until one looked down upon the tops of
+foothills, green with scrubby vegetation. Then it stretched in an
+irregular line down the mountainside, to disappear in their midst. Beyond
+lay another range of mountains.
+
+"Back of that range and across the mesa is where Herrick's place is," said
+Scott, as they drew rein and waited for Hard to come along. Polly gazed in
+silence. It was the first view she had had of the wilder part of the
+country and it thrilled her.
+
+Hard came up with them. "Don't you think we'd better make a little speed
+when we hit the level?" he said.
+
+"We've only crossed one stream since we started," observed Polly.
+
+"We cross another just before we get to Herrick's," said Hard, "but it
+never has much water in it except in the rainy season."
+
+"I've seen plenty in it then," said Scott, laughing. "I was caught on the
+wrong side once when they'd had a cloudburst in the mountains. Oh boy, you
+should have seen her come down! Swept away a wagon with two horses and the
+Mexican who was driving it in just two minutes."
+
+"Oh, how could it--in two minutes?"
+
+"Well, it could and did. Before that there wasn't a foot of water in the
+river bed. When the water came thundering down there was eight or ten.
+Picked up trees, bushes, chicken coops, greasers--anything in its way, and
+whirled 'em down the canyon."
+
+It was the middle of the afternoon when they crossed the second range,
+which they did by means of a trail which went through a gap, thus cutting
+off the worst of the ascent. Once through the gap, they came out upon a
+huge mesa from which they looked down upon the valley in which Casa Grande
+was located. On the mesa, the tired horses broke into the little
+easy-going jog which mountain ponies love.
+
+Scott watched Polly's sparkling eyes with real gratification. He had
+chosen to go by trail rather than by road very largely that she might have
+this experience. He wanted her to see more of the country before she went
+back to the city and its ways.
+
+"She's a natural out-of-doors woman, and she's never had the chance to
+find it out," he mused. "Better than a golf course?" he asked, as they
+trotted across the broad mesa.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, reproachfully. "It's like the happy hunting grounds! I
+never understood before why the Indians called their Heaven that. It was
+because they were thinking of space and openness and freedom. I think it
+beats our kind of Heaven all hollow," finished the cheerful product of
+1920.
+
+Finally they came out on the other side of the little river bed, which lay
+below the mesa and was entered by means of a rocky staircase, crossed a
+round-topped hill, and there, in a flat little valley surrounded by hills,
+the rear view of the Casa Grande ranch-house became visible. Two or three
+smaller buildings stood near it and a fence marked the corral.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CASA GRANDE
+
+
+There was a great stillness about the place; the whole panorama suggested
+a picture rather than an actuality, except for the white clouds sailing
+slowly about in the blue sky, and an occasional bird flying from one tree
+or bush to another.
+
+"I don't like things being so still," said Scott. "Let's push on." Riding
+around to the front of the house--a long, narrow, adobe building, they
+came upon the first real sign of habitation; a brown hen, who, accompanied
+by her family, was scratching around the walk with an immense show of
+industry; while on the veranda sat two men. One was a white man; the
+other, a Chinese, dressed in the dark blue shirt and trousers of his
+people. As the newcomers dismounted, the white man came forward.
+
+"Humph, it's you!" he remarked, with evident relief. "Well, here is what
+is left of a once prosperous household."
+
+He was a little man, thin and wiry, with bushy brown hair and beard, and
+keen dark eyes. His hands, slender and with long white fingers, played
+nervously with a quirt which he held, apparently for no purpose than that
+those nervous members might have occupation.
+
+"What's happened?" demanded Scott. "How do, Li Yow?" as the Chinaman came
+forward smilingly to take the horses.
+
+"All gone," he said, blandly. "Laided. One hen, some shickens--notting
+else left."
+
+"Raided! Did that young rascal----" began Hard, when Herrick interrupted
+impatiently.
+
+"Oh, he has been to you, too? He makes a clean sweep of it! He comes here
+at noon with a score, perhaps, of men; and if there is anything they do
+not take, it is because it is broken--like my wagon. Men, money, and
+stock--our neighbor is thorough and no mistake!"
+
+"I was afraid of it," said Scott. "He's cleaning up the community.
+Herrick, I want you to know Bob Street's sister, Miss Polly Street." He
+added a few words of explanation of the girl's presence. Herrick surveyed
+her with interest.
+
+"You are unlucky to strike this country at such a time," he said. "Unless
+you like experiences?"
+
+"I do," said Polly, promptly. "That's why they're sending me home."
+
+The little man smiled. "After all, most experience is worth while," he
+said. "Sit down and rest--you will stay, all of you, won't you? For the
+night? There is some food left."
+
+Scott and Li Yow walked away with the horses to the barn which stood not a
+great way from the house, surrounded by a good-sized corral. Polly sank
+into an easy chair which commanded through a window a view of a part of
+the living-room. She caught a glimpse of a grand piano, bright colored
+rugs, bookcases overflowing with books, and other evidences of comfort.
+Hard gave their host an account of the Athens hold-up, not forgetting the
+part Polly had played in it.
+
+"I remembered," he said, "that Li was a doctor, and thought perhaps you'd
+loan him to us for Jimmy. We don't think much of the Conejo medico."
+
+"Himmel, no!" responded Herrick, quickly. "You shall have Li, of course."
+
+Polly leaned back with a little sigh of content. Herrick smiled.
+
+"You are tired," he said, "and by and by you will be chilly. Henry, as Li
+is busy, suppose you build up a fire in the living-room?"
+
+Polly looked a bit surprised, but Hard laughed as he went into the house.
+
+"Herrick never does any rough work," he said, indulgently. "He has to take
+care of his hands."
+
+"So!" replied their host, "my fingers are my good friends, consequently I
+take good care of them. Why not? Some day I may need their services
+again."
+
+"I hope so," said Polly, frankly. "I think it's rather dreadful for an
+artist to bury himself in a place like this."
+
+"One does not bury oneself, my child, one rests and creates," said the
+musician, gently. "Ah, here is Scott! He has been looking at my wagon."
+
+Scott tossed Polly her long cloak which she had left on her saddle.
+
+"Yes, I took a look at the wagon, while Li turned the horses out," he
+said. "I think I can patch it up so that we can drive to Athens in it. You
+see, Herrick, we've only got three horses and I have to send Li back on
+one of them to-night."
+
+"Can he make it--the horse?"
+
+"With a little rest and a feed--if Li takes it easy. Of course, it's not
+the way I like to treat my horses, but Jimmy's leg is in a bad state."
+
+"Very well. You may have Li and also the wagon," replied Herrick. "The
+more willingly because I have a favor to ask of you."
+
+"Of course. What is it?"
+
+"I have a guest," said the other, slowly. "A lady, from the South. She has
+had to leave her plantation and is on her way back to the United States. I
+had intended taking her to the border, but since you are sending this
+young lady----" He stopped, and Polly thought she saw a look of
+understanding pass between them.
+
+"We'll see her through, of course," said Scott, readily. "Can she be ready
+to go in the morning?"
+
+"I should think so," replied the little man; "we will ask her." To Polly's
+disappointment, the talk passed on to the revolution and other political
+subjects, and nothing more was said about the mysterious guest. "If
+they're going to tack a Mexican refugee to me, they might at least tell me
+something about her!" she thought.
+
+In the meantime, Hard had entered the living-room and was examining the
+contents of the wood-box.
+
+"Empty, of course!" he said, with a smile. "The household is quite
+evidently off its balance." He went out through the kitchen and returned
+in a few minutes with a basket of logs from the wood-pile. As he
+re-entered the living-room, a woman--a tall, slender, graceful woman, with
+black hair and eyes, entered it from the hall. There was a moment's
+silence and then the basket of wood dropped crashingly from Hard's arms.
+The woman smiled.
+
+"Henry!" she exclaimed, coming forward, both hands outstretched. "Henry! I
+heard your voice--I'd have known it anywhere, even if Victor hadn't told
+me that you lived near here. You haven't changed one bit in--how many
+years is it since I saw you?"
+
+"Fifteen years, six months, and twenty-seven days, Clara," replied the
+tall Bostonian, taking her hands and leading her to the light. Something
+in her easy, friendly manner had softened both the shock of the surprise
+and the embarrassment of the situation. He looked long into her face and
+then dropped her hands. She sank into a chair by the fireplace.
+
+"It is a long time, isn't it?" she said, smiling.
+
+"No one would think so to look at you," said Hard, sincerely. "You are the
+same Clara Mallory who went to Paris fifteen years ago to study music." He
+picked up the basket of wood and proceeded to build the fire. She watched
+him, her eyes misty.
+
+"Well, it's odd that I haven't changed for I've been through a lot," she
+said, with a little smile. "And you?"
+
+"Just the same easy-going, good-for-nothing chap, I reckon," replied
+Hard.
+
+"But this mining business? But, of course, you were educated for it at the
+Tech----"
+
+"Yes, without much idea of using it."
+
+"But, being a Hard, you weren't contented with doing nothing," said Mrs.
+Conrad. "You know why I'm here, I suppose?"
+
+"No. Herrick told me some time ago that you were living down near Mexico
+City--and that Dick Conrad had died, and how."
+
+Mrs. Conrad was silent for a moment. "Two years ago," she said, quietly.
+"While he lived, we managed to hold down the plantation fairly well. He
+got on well with the government, and he organized the peons and fought off
+the bandits. Since then, things have gone rather badly; it takes a man to
+handle that kind of a situation. I've been raided six times in two years
+and my patience is almost gone.
+
+"I wrote up here to Victor; he's always been a good friend of mine--I
+studied with him in London, you know, and knew his wife well. He advised
+me to sell and go home. I didn't take his advice about selling; I couldn't
+get anything decent for the place right now, and I've a fairly good man
+running it for me. I have faith in this country and I intend to come back
+some day and go on with my plantation."
+
+"You always were plucky, Clara." Hard touched a match to his fire. "But
+Mexico's no place for you. Where are you going?"
+
+"I don't know," admitted Clara, frankly. "Back to the States, of course,
+but where and for what I don't know. But I hope--my music."
+
+"Your music?"
+
+"Victor says it's not too late--but--well, perhaps. I'm out of the way of
+cities, and I've enough so that I don't have to do anything, but--oh, I
+would love to be at it again!"
+
+Hard smiled. "You will, Clara. You're not an idler--as I am. You'll be in
+the thick of it in no time."
+
+"Ah, you have found one another! I thought perhaps you would." Herrick's
+voice broke in upon their talk. He was followed by Polly and Scott, and
+introductions and explanations came naturally.
+
+"It's not a Mexican refugee, and it is the lady of the photograph!" Polly
+said to herself, triumphantly. "But it doesn't look to me much like a love
+affair. They've got over it evidently."
+
+"So you also were raided by Juan Pachuca?" said Mrs. Conrad, as Scott
+seated himself beside her. The latter nodded.
+
+"I happened to hear him talking to one of my men," said Herrick, "and
+telling him that he had a rendezvous with Angel Gonzales, somewhere in the
+vicinity--not too near, I hope. I don't want Angel Gonzales on my place;
+I'd rather entertain the devil."
+
+"What a queer name--Angel! Who is he?" asked Polly, curiously. She was
+beginning to realize, since she had gotten off her horse and relaxed into
+the comfort of an easy chair near the fire, how very tired she was.
+
+"A young ruffian with a price on his head," replied Herrick. "He's half
+Indian and half Mexican and they tell me that both halves are very bad
+indeed."
+
+"If Gonzales--by the way, Miss Polly, don't mix him up with Pablo Gonzales
+who is a general of note and one of the candidates for the next
+presidency----" said Hard, laughing. "If Gonzales is trying to get in with
+the new party, he must have inside information that the revolution is
+going to be a success."
+
+"Well, its first work had better be to line Angel and a few more of his
+kind up against a wall and settle 'em with a firing squad," said Scott.
+
+"That's what I think," declared Mrs. Conrad. "I don't put much faith in
+this regiment business. I think Pachuca has simply gone back to first
+principles and run amuck."
+
+"I don't believe----" Polly stopped, consciously.
+
+"Miss Polly thinks he's a gentleman and that ends it," said Scott, drily.
+
+"She's young, and the wretch has a way with him. I liked him myself when I
+was young and frivolous," said Mrs. Conrad, cheerfully. "I've entertained
+him many a time in Mexico City. Suppose you go into my room, my dear, and
+have a nice rest and clean up while I go and help Li rustle us a dinner
+out of the remnants?" she continued, taking the girl by the hand.
+
+"If Angel Gonzales is playing around this neighborhood, the sooner we get
+away the better," said Scott to Hard as the three men were left together.
+"Come and cast your weather eye over the wagon. For a quiet part of the
+country, we seem to have struck a bad gait."
+
+It was nearly eight o'clock when they sat down to their dinner; a dinner
+contrived with Oriental thrift from materials scorned by the marauders.
+
+"Give a Chinaman a handful of rice and a few vegetables and he'll make you
+a feast, so my husband used to say," remarked Mrs. Conrad. "You simply
+can't starve them."
+
+"Li wants to start right after dinner," said Scott.
+
+"And ride all night?" asked Herrick.
+
+"He says so. He says he knows the trail, and, of course, he's got the
+moon."
+
+A little later, as they sat around the fire, they heard the sound of his
+horse's feet on the stones and knew that the Chinaman had started.
+
+Polly began to feel the charm of the quaint room, with its dim lighting,
+the low fire, the fantastic patterns of rug and basket showing faintly,
+and through the windows the mountains and the stars. As the conversation
+began to yield to the quiet of the place, Herrick went to the piano and
+played softly. It had never fallen to the lot of the girl to hear such
+music; the revelation of a man's soul, poured out through an absolute
+mastery of the art. The little man, with the brown beard and the long
+nervous hands, sat hunched up in his low chair, knees crossed, eyes half
+closed, drawing from the keyboard the chords which carried to each one the
+message of his own heart.
+
+Presently, Clara Conrad rose, and, standing back of the piano, leaning
+over it, her hands clasped, began to sing--softly and easily--her voice, a
+rich contralto, blending with Herrick's small but exquisite baritone, in
+an old song. Polly looked at Hard, seated in a dim corner, his chin
+resting on his hand, his eyes fixed on the two at the piano. She wondered
+what he was thinking and what the woman meant to him. There was something
+almost too intimate about the whole scene and she was glad when Scott rose
+and went toward the door, speaking to her as he passed her.
+
+"Want to see a pretty sight?" he said. She nodded and followed him out.
+For miles in front of them stretched the hilly country, dotted here and
+there in the half light by clumps of trees and bushes showing inky black
+in the night, while in the distance stretched the mountains, irregular,
+dark, and mysterious looking. Over all shone the moon, while the
+stars--but who can describe the stars in a desert country?
+
+"Makes you feel like you'd never seen stars before, doesn't it?" asked
+Scott, as the girl stood, drinking in the scene.
+
+"Doesn't it? So many, so bright and so twinkly! Do you know, I don't
+wonder that Mrs. Conrad's rather a wonderful woman--living all the time
+with this."
+
+"Well, she is, rather. She's had a hard life, too; lots of trouble."
+
+"Wasn't her husband--I mean, weren't they happy together?" asked the
+girl.
+
+"Why, yes, I guess they were," replied Scott, cautiously. "I reckon they
+were like most married folks, rubbed along together pretty well."
+
+"But you said she'd had lots of trouble."
+
+Scott smiled. "And you made up your mind right off that it was a love
+affair, eh? You're a good deal of a kid, aren't you?"
+
+Polly flushed. "I think you're rather inconsiderate," she said, crossly.
+"You start up my curiosity and then you make fun of me. I don't think I
+like the way you treat me, most of the time."
+
+"I don't think it's fair, myself," said Scott, penitently. "I suppose a
+girl brought up as you've been oughtn't to be blamed for seeing a love
+affair behind every bush."
+
+"Why do you say brought up as I've been?"
+
+"I mean having everything easy; everything done for you. No real hard
+knocks in life."
+
+"Oh, well, if that's all, I'll probably have hard knocks enough before I
+get through. Most people do, I've noticed," replied Polly, easily. "I'll
+probably marry somebody who'll spend all his money and leave me eight
+children to support, or else I'll die a rheumaticky old maid. Will that
+satisfy you?"
+
+"Don't talk that way," said Scott, sharply. "It's unlucky."
+
+"Unlucky? Are you superstitious?"
+
+"No, but I've noticed that people who are always expecting bad luck
+usually get it. I'd hate to have you----" he stopped, and Polly caught a
+look in his eyes that startled her.
+
+"Die a rheumaticky old maid?" she said, nervously. "Well, I don't want to,
+either, but it seems to me that the number of people who get out of this
+world without a lot of trouble of some kind or other is a pretty small
+one, so you needn't begrudge me a few years of easy going. What was Mrs.
+Conrad's trouble?"
+
+"She's had a good deal of it first and last, but I was thinking of her
+husband's death, two years ago."
+
+"Did you know her then?"
+
+"Me? No, indeed, I never met her before to-night, but Hard told me, and so
+did Herrick. I don't reckon Hard would mind my telling you her story, now
+you've met her. You see, he and she were young folks together in Boston. I
+guess they sort of played at being in love with each other, like young
+folks do. Then her father died, and left her with hardly anything, and
+that woke 'em up. It made things look more serious.
+
+"Hard wanted to marry her, but she wouldn't. She had a voice and she
+wanted a career; so she went to Europe. That's where she met Herrick and
+took lessons of him. Then, suddenly, instead of going on the stage, she
+married one of those floating Englishmen. Met him in Paris, married him,
+and came over here with him."
+
+"Didn't she care for Mr. Hard?"
+
+"Well, it's pretty hard sometimes to know who a woman does care for," said
+Scott, candidly. "But if she did, she must have got over it. Or maybe she
+got tired of the singing business and took Conrad in a fit of the blues.
+I've known 'em to do that."
+
+"Men, I suppose, never marry for reasons of that sort!"
+
+"Men? Lord, yes, men'll do anything--most of 'em," grinned Scott,
+cheerfully. "We're a rum lot. Anyhow, Mrs. Conrad married her Englishman
+and came over to the coffee plantation with him. I guess they had some
+trouble like everybody else has had these last few years, but they managed
+to weather it. Then, about two years ago, they went on a hunting trip, up
+in the mountains, just the two of them and a Mexican boy. While they were
+there, Conrad shot himself while he was cleaning his gun."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"It was hopeless from the first and she knew it, but she stayed alone with
+him and sent the boy back to the ranch for a doctor. He died while they
+were there alone."
+
+Polly's eyes had tears in them. She was staring wistfully at the
+mountains. "I'm trying to think what it would mean--being up there, alone,
+with someone you loved who was dying," she said at last. "No wonder little
+things don't bother a woman who's been through a thing like that."
+
+"Yes, it's those things that make character, I guess," said Scott,
+thoughtfully. "Or break it."
+
+"Hasn't Mr. Hard ever been down there to see her?"
+
+"No, there's a proud streak in Hard--or maybe he's got over his feeling
+for her. He never would let her know he was in the country. I rather guess
+Herrick planned this."
+
+"I wonder? Oh, what is it? What do you see?" she cried, as she noticed
+that Scott's attention was no longer on her, but was fastened upon the
+dark foothills which rose between them and the mountains.
+
+"I don't know; wish I had my glasses! Looks to me like fellows riding--do
+you see 'em? Over there, coming through that darkish spot between the
+foothills? Wonder if we're in for another row?"
+
+"No--yes, it is! Coming this way!"
+
+"Go in and tell them to put out the lights and stop that noise quick!"
+Scott's voice was hard and sharp. Polly darted into the house. Scott
+strained his eyes to watch the party of riders racking recklessly down the
+dark roadway from the hills. "It can't be Pachuca!" he muttered. "He
+wouldn't come back. It must be that damned young Angel. Well, I guess
+we're in for trouble before daybreak."
+
+"What is it?" Hard was at his elbow. Scott turned and saw that the house
+was dark.
+
+"It's a bunch on horseback--see, over yonder? They're making good time;
+they'll be on us in half a minute. Where's Herrick?"
+
+"Getting the rifles. Where are the horses?"
+
+"In the pasture, up by the river. They'll not find them in a hurry."
+
+"Hadn't we better have the women go up there, too?" said Hard, anxiously.
+
+"I don't believe so. If they're bound for us, there's no time. I
+think----"
+
+"Mr. Scott," Clara Conrad's voice came softly from the dark doorway, "if
+that's Angel Gonzales why can't we all go----"
+
+"I don't know who it is, and the moon's too strong out there--they'd spot
+you in a minute."
+
+"But we can't sit here and do nothing!"
+
+"You can do as you please." Scott's voice was ugly with the ugliness of
+strained nerves. "I say stick to shelter while you've got it." He drew his
+revolver as he spoke and examined it.
+
+"They're coming fast." Hard's voice was tense. Herrick carrying three
+rifles came out.
+
+"Get inside--everybody!" ordered Scott. The party had turned in from the
+road and were dashing toward them. Mrs. Conrad and Polly were already in
+the house. The men followed. "They ride like Indians, Hard; I believe it's
+Yaquis on the warpath!" He and Hard stationed themselves at the open
+windows in the darkness. "I'm for waiting till they attack us; what do you
+think?"
+
+"Yes. Let them make the first move."
+
+The intruders were at the gate. Now they swept in, a couple of score of
+them. They whirled and made for the barn.
+
+"They're Indians, all right," whispered Scott. "They're after the
+horses."
+
+The silence was complete for a few seconds, the women obediently crouching
+in the darkest corner scarcely seeming to breathe, Scott and Hard, hidden
+behind the light curtains, keeping their eyes fixed upon the swiftly
+moving figures outside, Herrick standing just within the doorway.
+Suddenly, cries broke the stillness. Two of the Yaquis who had entered the
+barn came out with the news. The yells were of rage.
+
+"No horses!" grinned Scott. "Their feelings are hurt. Here's where the
+play begins."
+
+"They're firing the barn," said Hard, grimly.
+
+They were. It blazed like a child's bonfire and the shouts and curses of
+the disappointed Yaquis rose with the flames.
+
+In another moment the Indians had ridden toward the house. Polly, who in
+spite of orders, had crept toward the window saw them in amazement.
+Between the moon and the light of the blazing barn, they were distinctly
+visible.
+
+"But they can't be Indians!" she exclaimed, at Scott's elbow. "They're
+just like our Mexicans!"
+
+"Did you expect them to wear scalp locks? Get out of range, quick! Hard,
+cover the second chap, there. I'm going to give the first boy a shock.
+They'll be in here in half a minute if I don't."
+
+His shot rang out and the bullet flew over the Indian's head. It was close
+enough to make him pull his horse to its haunches while those behind him
+did the same.
+
+"While I'm talking to him, you women slide out the back door," muttered
+Scott, hurriedly. "Make for the stream and the horses while they're
+watching us. Hello, out there, what do you want?" he said in Spanish.
+
+Mrs. Conrad gripped Polly's arm. "Come!" she said.
+
+"We can't!" demurred the girl. "We can't leave them like this."
+
+"Come!" repeated Clara, angrily. "Do you want to fall into their hands?"
+Polly, too frightened by her tone to resist, crept softly behind her. They
+heard the Indian at whom Scott had fired answer. To Polly it meant
+nothing, but Clara's ears, accustomed to the tongue, caught an angry
+demand for horses, food and money.
+
+"We haven't any of those things. We've just been raided--cleaned
+out--we're as poor as you are," was Scott's reply. The Indians conferred
+together. "It's a question of whether they think we're lying or not," said
+Scott, drily.
+
+"Exactly. And they have unfortunately every reason to believe that a white
+man usually is," replied Hard. "What's the play if they come at us?"
+
+"Shoot as many as we can," said Scott. "They'll do the rest. That's why I
+sent the women off."
+
+"I thought so. Well, here goes. I ought to be able to get a couple before
+I cash in though I'm not considered very dangerous with firearms," replied
+Hard, calmly, though his heart was registering something approaching acute
+blood pressure.
+
+From the leader came in angry Spanish: "We don't believe you! We'll come
+and get it."
+
+"Come on!" yelled Herrick. Instantly, a dozen Yaquis were off their horses
+and running toward the house, shooting as they came. As instantly, two of
+the leaders fell in the path of the others.
+
+"Good boy, Herrick!" cried Scott. "Let 'em have it again!" he yelled, as
+the Indians, halted for a moment by the fall of their men, came on again.
+The shots rang out again but this time no one fell. Hard felt something
+sing by him in the darkness and thanked God that the women were not there.
+Herrick rushed over for more cartridges.
+
+"They're coming!" he shouted, excitedly.
+
+"Let 'em come. Some of 'em are coming to something they won't like,"
+growled Scott. "Look out--in the doorway!"
+
+Two Indians had burst their way into the house, but disconcerted by its
+utter darkness after the moonlight outside, paused a moment to get their
+bearings. Scott, Hard and Herrick shot with one accord. One Indian came
+on; the other uttered a cry of pain; then both dashed outside for the
+shelter of the veranda. There was silence; the Indians hesitating in doubt
+as to their companions' fate, the white men uncertain as to what form the
+attack would take next.
+
+"Are the women gone?" Herrick called softly.
+
+"Yes," replied Hard. "Are you all right?"
+
+"So. They whistle through my hair but they do not touch me," replied the
+musician, cheerfully.
+
+"Here they come!" cried Scott, impatiently. "Watch your shots!"
+
+The Indians were coming, and coming in a body.
+
+"Gosh, it's going to be all day with us in half a minute!" gasped Scott.
+"Let 'em have it as hard as you can, boys. We may be able to hold 'em long
+enough to give the women a chance to get the horses."
+
+Hard clenched his teeth and bent his eye on his rifle. In another moment
+the invaders would be upon them--when, sharp and decisive came the sound
+of shots; shots from among the foothills, followed by yells. There was a
+cry from the Indian who led the rush; a wavering of the line; and a stop.
+They broke into loud talk. In the meantime, the shots and yells continued.
+They seemed to come from two directions.
+
+"There's another crowd back in the hills. They've got another fight on
+their hands," muttered Scott, listening. "It's a flank attack and these
+fellows don't like it."
+
+"If it is----"
+
+"It is. Hear that!"
+
+There were more yells; the Yaquis outside flung themselves into their
+saddles and in another moment the two wounded men lying near the windows
+were all that remained of the attack.
+
+"By golly, I've heard of luck before, but this is a case of the pure and
+unadulterated article," said Scott, awed.
+
+Hard did not reply. He was taking a deep breath--the first in several
+minutes. Herrick whistled cheerfully.
+
+"Unless it's Angel Gonzales," continued Scott, pensively. "In that case
+it's a question of 'Go it, old woman; go it, b'ar.'"
+
+"Let's go after the horses and the women," said Hard. "The quicker we hit
+the trail for home the better my circulation's going to be. I think the
+Hards must have deteriorated considerably since the battle of Lexington.
+I'm getting to be a regular old woman."
+
+Scott laughed. "You're a pretty good pal in a fight, old man," he said,
+simply. "I think you winged one of those birds outside. Shall we go and
+have a look?"
+
+"Not I," replied Hard, decidedly. "It's unpleasant enough to me to kill a
+man without pawing him over afterward."
+
+Scott went outside and looked over the victims of the fight.
+
+"Dead, both of them," he said, briefly. "Come on, let's get out of this
+before their friends come back." And to the sounds of yells and shots in
+the distance they made their way toward the stream.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A NIGHT RIDE
+
+
+When Li Yow clattered up the trail leading out of the river bed and up the
+mesa, he was a happy man, in spite of the fact that a horse was to him the
+last means of locomotion that he would have chosen for an all night trip,
+with the possible exception of a camel or an elephant. Except as objects
+for his scientific skill, horses were not dear to his heart. A wagon, a
+train, an automobile, these were sensible conveyances for an intellectual
+man of an old and distinguished family going about his business, but a
+horse, never!
+
+Not that Li would have admitted that his family was old. Distinguished,
+perhaps, but scarcely old when it only counted its ancestry through some
+eight or nine hundred years. In China that is to be classed among the
+blatantly new. He was happy, however, because he was being given a chance
+to use his skill for that great purpose for which it had been acquired,
+the alleviation of pain.
+
+Li was a student, and for five years he had had very little opportunity
+for the work that he loved. With the patience of the Oriental, he had
+toiled at an inferior art; now opportunity had come, and so eager was he
+to grasp it, that a twenty-mile ride on an uncongenial animal, in the
+night, did not deter him. Not that he was afraid of the dark as we like to
+think the Chinese are. Li Yow had a philosophy, old when the Christian
+philosophy was born, which amply sufficed to relieve his mind of any
+superstitious terrors. Mexicans on the rampage, and Yaquis on the warpath,
+did not, however, come under the category of superstitious fears, and he
+heartily hoped he might accomplish his journey without meeting either of
+them.
+
+He rode Scott's big roan, Cochise, a common-sense animal which could be
+trusted to the tender mercies of what its master called "a crazy Chink."
+This excellent beast understood thoroughly the art of saving his strength,
+and curbing any foolish enthusiasm on the part of a rider to race up-hill
+or to exhaust one's wind too early in the game.
+
+"Spirit and a bit of deviltry are all right in a horse or a woman, I'll
+grant you," Scott used to say when anyone derided the roan. "But the horse
+or the woman who lives with me has got to have common sense."
+
+So Li Yow and Cochise trotted placidly along the mesa, one thinking of the
+joys of surgery, and the other of the pleasure of feeding in one's own
+corral. They had been out a couple of hours perhaps, and Li, moved by the
+beauty of the night, quoted a fragment of eighth century poetry and turned
+in his saddle to see how far he had come--when, suddenly, he gave an
+exclamation of horror!
+
+Back of him, across the river bed, back of the round-topped hill, from
+exactly the spot where Casa Grande stood, he saw the tops of flames
+shooting up against the sky line! Something was being burned. Something
+sizable, or its flames would not rise so high. It must be either Casa
+Grande, its barn, or both. Li's heart stood still. He stopped Cochise in
+sympathy with that important organ. What to do? At Casa Grande was a
+friend to whom he was attached. Things of a most unpleasant nature might
+be happening to him--could he ride away and leave him?
+
+On the other hand, what could he do--a lone Chinese, unarmed except for a
+formidable surgical apparatus? After all, they had two horses and perhaps
+they had seen the brigands coming and had escaped. Still, if he went back
+they would have three horses. The women could ride and the men could ride
+and tie. Li groaned in spirit. He hated walking more than he hated
+riding.
+
+Obviously his duty was to go back and offer his help such as it was. If
+they were fighting, it would not be worth much, unless he could persuade a
+Mexican or two to stand still while he stabbed them with a lancet. With a
+sigh, Li turned Cochise in the direction of Casa Grande and applied an
+encouraging dig of the heel.
+
+Cochise, however, saw things differently. He had started for Athens.
+Athens was home and a good place at that. He saw no reason for going back
+just to please an ignoramus who didn't know how to ride and who would
+probably change his mind again before they had gone a mile. Consequently,
+when Li kicked, Cochise threw his head in the air and made crab-like
+motions with his legs. Li pulled and Cochise reared. Li, mindful of past
+instructions, loosed the reins and Cochise whirled. Li leaned over and
+patted the horse's neck and Cochise bucked.
+
+It was a nice exhibition of obstinacy on the part of both man and beast,
+and no one there but the moon to witness it. The buck, however, did the
+business. A bump and a rattle reminded Li Yow of his precious medical
+chest--absolutely unreplaceable--and with a frightened:
+
+"Whoa, thou son of evil, thou animal of ill omen!" he gave in; and
+Cochise, secure in his victory, settled down to a trot again. "Ah, well, a
+sensible man spends no time in weeping over the inevitable," meditated Li.
+"What is to be, will be. The young man with the injured leg is the gainer
+by thy obstinacy, oh, vile beast!"
+
+At daybreak a tired man and a stiff horse arrived at Athens. Mrs. Van
+Zandt saw them because she was up attending to Adams who was suffering.
+She hailed the Chinaman from her doorway, bathrobed and boudoir capped as
+she was.
+
+"Is that you, Marc Scott?" she called anxiously, as she recognized
+Cochise.
+
+"No, lady," replied Li, in his professional manner. "This not Mr. Scott,
+this Li Yow from Casa Grande. I come see sick boy," and he rolled off the
+horse.
+
+"Well, that's good, he needs you! Leave the horse and come in." Li
+complied and Cochise, released, started wearily for the corral. "See
+here," Mrs. Van Zandt led the way to the bedroom, "I guess you're pretty
+well used up, ain't you? I'm going to get you something to eat in a
+minute. Did you have a hard ride?" She had got a light and looked at him
+curiously. Li Yow did look very much used up.
+
+"I hurry a great lot," he said, simply. "I want go back but the horse he
+want come on."
+
+"What did you want to go back for?"
+
+"Fire. I see big fire at Casa Grande," replied the Chinaman, gravely. "I
+much afraid the bandits burn the house."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt pulled him suddenly from the bedroom door.
+
+"Good land, man, don't let the boy hear you! He's half out of his head
+now. What do you mean? Has Casa Grande been raided?"
+
+Li nodded.
+
+"By Pachuca?"
+
+"Yes. He come morning, take everything--horses, chow, money, everything!
+Then Mr. Scott's folks they come in afternoon. Only thlee horse for
+everybody. Mr. Scott say he mend wagon and they come over to-morrow. I
+come to-night to see sick boy. When I get up on mesa I see fire--don't
+know who make him but mebbe bandits."
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt turned pale. Clutching her bathrobe tightly she made for
+the door. "Look here," she called, over her shoulder, "you look after the
+boy and mind you don't spill any of that news before him. I'll get you
+some breakfast and see what's to be done."
+
+Then she came back. "They were all right when you left them? The young
+lady, too?" she queried, anxiously.
+
+"Yes, they all light. Both them ladies all light."
+
+"Both! Who's the other?" demanded Mrs. Van Zandt, instantly.
+
+"Mr. Hellick got flend--Mrs. Conlad," said Li, wearily. "She come day
+before yest'day--from Mexico City. Mr. Hard's flend, too."
+
+"Good Heavens, now what do you suppose the heathen means by that?" gasped
+the astonished woman. "Come here," she added, sternly, and seizing the
+Chinaman by the sleeve of his blouse, she led him into the room occupied
+by Polly. Dramatically, she pointed to the photograph on the wall. "Is
+that the woman you're talking about?"
+
+Li examined the face gravely and nodded. "Yes," he said, "only younger
+here."
+
+Mrs. Van released him suddenly. "All right, go on in and see the boy," she
+said, and hurried down the street. "Fire and bandits--and I let that poor
+girl go over there with those men!" she gasped. "And what on earth is that
+woman doing at Casa Grande? It's either a scandal or a romance, that's a
+cinch!"
+
+"What's the matter? Whose horse was that? Great snakes, Mrs. Van, what the
+devil----" Johnson, hastily and scantily attired, came down the street,
+followed by the others. Cochise had waked up the camp. Mrs. Van looked at
+them tragically.
+
+"It's the Casa Grande Chinaman come over to see Jimmy. He rode Cochise,"
+she sobbed.
+
+"What'd he ride Cochise for? What's come over Marc Scott, lendin' Cochise
+to a Chink?"
+
+"Tom, something awful has happened," and she burst into the story.
+
+"Didn't the heathen go back to help?"
+
+"I guess he tried to, but Cochise got scared and wouldn't go. What do you
+suppose it is ?"
+
+"Gosh, I dunno! Don't sound like Pachuca; he wouldn't come back a second
+time. Sure looks bad."
+
+"And the feller says Mrs. Conrad's there. What's he mean by that, do you
+think?"
+
+"Who's she?"
+
+"Mr. Hard's friend; the widow woman that lives down South. Upon my word,
+Tom Johnson, I do believe that's the woman and the trouble that the ouija
+meant and I thought all the time it was talking about Polly Street!"
+
+"Dunno, I'm sure. Where's Cochise?"
+
+"Gone down to the corral."
+
+"Guess I'd better go down and give him the once over. They've probably
+rode him to death between 'em. Gosh, I'm sorry to hear that news!" and Tom
+strode off, sadly, followed by the others. "Poor old chap," he murmured, a
+few minutes later, as he took the saddle off Cochise. "Can't do nothin'
+for your boss, so I'll do what I can for you. Pretty well petered out,
+ain't you?"
+
+"Say, Tom, what are we going to do about this Casa Grande business,
+anyhow?" demanded O'Grady.
+
+"Well, with a dynamited track, a busted auto, a smashed 'phone connection
+and a foundered horse, what would you suggest doing?" demanded Johnson,
+pessimistically. "Walkin' ain't so durned good in this country."
+
+"If we could get to Conejo we could get Mendoza to drive us over to Casa
+Grande," hazarded Williams.
+
+"Well, that ain't a bad idea for you, Jack," said Tom, patronizingly. "I
+reckon I'll stretch my legs in that direction after breakfast. Suppose we
+go up and see what the Doc says about Jimmy?"
+
+In the meantime, the doctor had examined his patient's leg, quietly
+ignoring the flood of excited questions hurled at him by the boy.
+
+"Him velly bad," he declared at length. "You keep him still while I get
+bullet out, mebbe he get well. You talk a heap and mebbe I cut him off."
+
+"You cut him off and I'll cut your liver out, Li, you sabe?" grinned
+Adams, gamely. "Anyhow, it's blamed good of you to ride over here. I'll
+bet you're sore, eh?"
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt coming up the road with the tray in her arms met the men
+coming up from the corral.
+
+"I never did suppose I'd see myself carrying breakfast to a Chinese," she
+said, wearily, "but you can't tell these days what'll come your way. I
+know exactly how that poor guy feels. I rode over to Casa Grande once on
+Cochise. He's wide and he's rough and anyone who wants to ride him twenty
+miles is welcome to him as far as I'm concerned."
+
+The train gang hung around to hear the verdict on Jimmy Adams. They were
+much relieved to hear that the operation was to be one of probing rather
+than of cutting. They had had some gloomy discussions on that point which
+had ended in consulting the mail order catalogue in order to see whether
+it advertised artificial limbs.
+
+"He wants one of you to help," said Mrs. Van, coming out of the room. "I
+wisht you would. I feel that nasty this morning that the sight of blood
+would just about finish me. Go on in, Tom." Tom went in. Mrs. Van set the
+tray on the table. "Seems funny to be waiting on a cook, don't it? But I
+suppose it's different when he's tending the sick, and I'll say he's
+clean. He washed his hands before he touched Jimmy. I watched him."
+
+"Well, that's more than old Estrada over in Conejo does," said O'Grady.
+"He pulled a tooth for me last winter and he come in from feedin' his pigs
+to do it. Right plumb into my mouth he started to put his dirty fist.
+'No,' says I, 'you wash that mitt first. Afterward you can suit
+yourself.'"
+
+"You better get a swig of whiskey ready for Tom," suggested the brakeman,
+solicitously. "Them operations is ugly things."
+
+"I will," said Mrs. Van, hurrying to the cabinet and taking down the
+bottle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE WAGON
+
+
+Herrick stopped before they had gone a dozen yards from the house.
+
+"Go on and find the women," he said, curtly. "I have something to do
+before they come."
+
+"Something----" Scott stared at the little man uncomprehendingly.
+
+"So. Do you want them to see those ugly bodies?" he pointed to the two
+dead Yaquis, stretched ghastly and plain in the moonlight. "I shall pull
+them into the shadow of the bushes."
+
+"Well, he's nervy for a piano player, ain't he?" murmured Scott, as he and
+Hard turned the corner of the house.
+
+"I think, myself, that there's a lot of rot talked about the artistic
+temperament," replied Hard, drily. "The war showed us that poets could
+fight as courageously as plumbers, and I've always thought that when you
+got the real unadulterated article in artistic temperament, you usually
+got with it a distinctly cruel streak. I believe that you and I hated
+killing those Indians a lot more than Herrick did, though he'll probably
+throw a nervous chill over it after a while and compose a piece about
+it."
+
+"Well, maybe so," assented Scott. "He's the only artistic chap I ever got
+real close to and I don't mind admitting he's mighty queer--but he ain't
+yellow. I'll say that for him after to-night."
+
+They were passing a clump of bushes as he spoke and two dark figures
+started forth. Scott instinctively put his hand on his gun.
+
+"Oh," gasped the shorter figure, "what has happened? Are you shot? Who is
+running away--you or they?" She seized Scott's wrists with a clutching
+hold.
+
+Scott laughed. "That's how you obey orders, is it? Where are the horses?"
+
+"I don't know. We stayed right here," faltered Polly. "I want to know if
+you're hurt!"
+
+"No, not if I know it, and I usually recognize bullets when they hit me."
+
+"What happened?" insisted the other woman. "Have they gone?"
+
+"They're fighting somebody over in the hills--we don't know who it is,"
+replied Hard. "Probably Angel Gonzales. These fellows were evidently an
+advance guard."
+
+"We ought to get out of here before they come back," said Scott. "You
+can't tell how long that will last--and whoever licks, we don't want to be
+hanging around here."
+
+"They'll burn the place, I suppose," said Mrs. Conrad, wearily. "May I go
+back and get some things?"
+
+Scott hesitated. "I think we ought to get away," he said. "But one of us
+will have to go back to get Herrick and the saddles--if you can hurry--go
+with her, Hard, and I'll go after the horses."
+
+"Saddles?" Polly spoke suddenly. "Weren't they in the barn?"
+
+"No; luckily I put them in the wagon when I was tinkering with it," said
+Scott. "We've only two horses, you know, and I want you women to ride
+them."
+
+"By--by ourselves?" Mrs. Conrad's usually cheerful voice sounded a little
+frightened. "I couldn't find that trail in the dark; I'm not Li Yow, you
+know."
+
+"The horses will take you."
+
+"Oh, please let's keep together!" pleaded Polly. "Why can't we all go in
+the wagon the way you planned?"
+
+"Well, for one reason, the harness was in the barn and was burned," said
+Scott, with some irritation.
+
+"Herrick has a lot of old junk of that sort in his storeroom," volunteered
+Hard. "I believe you could patch up one. Those sounds have died away--the
+fight's over," he added. "Let's go back and have a look, and see what
+Herrick says."
+
+There was a pause and the two men consulted anxiously together. It was
+very still--not a sound from the direction of the hills. It really did
+look as though the attack had been followed by flight. Scott, against what
+he afterward called his better judgment, but what was really only a
+disinclination to change his mind, gave in, and the two men walked on
+ahead.
+
+"If we're going in the wagon, Hard, we've got to go by the road, and I
+don't stir a step on that road till I know whether this deviltry is over
+for the night or not. We'll camp down here for a few hours, and start by
+daybreak."
+
+"Why not? The horses need the rest and so do we. I say camp, by all
+means."
+
+Everything seemed harmless at the ranch house. Herrick, who had performed
+his unpleasant task, was studying the extent of the damage, which seemed
+to be confined to broken windows. When consulted, he approved of the idea
+of an early morning start in the wagon and believed that out of the odds
+and ends of harness in the storeroom something could be patched up and
+made to do.
+
+"All right then." Scott's voice was emphatic. "I'll fix the wagon first
+thing in the morning. And now, let's all turn in and catch a few winks
+before daybreak."
+
+"I don't believe I'll sleep a minute," said Polly, as the two women were
+left alone in the room which Clara Conrad had been occupying. "I'll throw
+my cloak around me and lie down on the couch. I feel awfully strung up,
+don't you?"
+
+"Yes," said the older woman. "But I'm going to try to sleep, and so must
+you."
+
+As a matter of fact, Clara did not expect to sleep. The meeting with Henry
+Hard had brought up old memories--memories both happy and sad. He had
+changed little, the tall, thin, sandy-haired man. It was good, oh so good,
+to have something back again from the old life! As she closed her eyes and
+put away from her the events of the day, old scenes came back with a
+clearness that they had not worn for many years. The old houses; the
+quiet, cultured, elderly men and women, the gayer young ones, herself and
+Hard among them; the dinners, dances, concerts; the summer days on the
+water, and the rides--all came back as though they had been but yesterday,
+and all on account of this one man who had played so important a part in
+them.
+
+She realized, as she lay there in the darkness, that without putting the
+thought clearly, she had had deeply imbedded in her mind the idea that she
+would see him or hear something about him when she went back to Boston.
+She was not in love with him, but she had never forgotten him and she
+would never feel about him as she did about so many of the others who had
+played parts in her old life. Soothed by the thought, she drifted into a
+calm and restful sleep.
+
+Polly, however, was too unskilled in the management of her thoughts to be
+able to relax at will. She lay quietly, so as not to disturb the other
+woman, but her mind was whirling. She lived again each event of the past
+two days; the raid on the mine, the ride with Pachuca, his escape, the
+trip to Casa Grande, and the growing companionship with Scott--the look
+she had surprised in his eyes only an hour ago when she had stood with him
+on the veranda, looking at the distant mountains; and then the dreadful
+minutes spent behind the bushes, listening to the guns of the attacking
+Yaquis.
+
+"And I thought a golf tournament was exciting!" she said, smiling in the
+dark. Softly she rose and crept to the window. It was very beautiful out
+there; mountains, hills, bushes, all a study in absolute stillness. The
+only sound that came to her ears was the howl of a wolf in the distance.
+
+"Coming in at just the right moment," smiled the girl. "What a country for
+effects! Oh dear, I believe I could sleep out there in the hammock if it
+wasn't too chilly."
+
+Taking the couch cover over her arm she crept softly out of the door and
+out on to the veranda where the hammock swayed gently in the breeze. Polly
+adjusted herself in it with care; a fall would bring all the occupants of
+the house out with a bound.
+
+"First they'd bound and then they'd fuss," she said to herself. "I don't
+want to be fussed at, I just want to snatch a few winks out under this
+gorgeous sky. I don't understand how when skies and stars and mountains
+are all laid out for them, artists want to do the red and green futurist
+horrors that they love so. Now, what's that noise?"
+
+A queer kind of noise it was. Polly sat up quite suddenly. It seemed to
+come from behind a clump of bushes some distance to the right. It was a
+pounding, scraping sort of noise, not very loud, but distinctly
+disconcerting. You got the impression that whoever was doing it was trying
+not to make any more noise than he could help. Polly's heart beat rapidly.
+She must call one of the men. She rose unsteadily and at the same moment
+the noise stopped. A tall figure stepped out from behind the bushes and
+came toward the house.
+
+Polly stepped back into the shadow of the porch. She was about to dive
+into the open window when another sound caught her ear. The man was
+whistling softly--whistling the Slumber Motif from Die Walkuere! Polly
+laughed aloud. She had taken Henry Hard for a bandit.
+
+"Hello, what are you doing up on deck?" he said, whimsically. "I thought
+we'd sent the passengers below and battened down the hatches."
+
+"I couldn't sleep, so I came out here. What are you doing with that pick?
+Was it you I heard digging?"
+
+"Scott and me. I came up for a match."
+
+"But what can you be digging for at this time of night? Not buried
+treasure?" eagerly.
+
+"My dear child, I hate to disappoint you, knowing your feelings on the
+subject. If you must know, we killed a couple of Yaquis and we're burying
+them on what we'd call at home 'the lawn.' It's rather awful, but we can't
+help it."
+
+"Killed them!" Polly's eyes were wide with horror.
+
+"It's a rotten business, if you ask me, both killing and burying. I'm just
+beginning to form a faint idea of the sort of thing the youngsters we sent
+abroad had to face. I was keeping up my courage by whistling. Won't you go
+to bed like a nice girl?"
+
+"No. I couldn't stand it in there in the dark. It doesn't seem so bad out
+here. Go on--don't bother about me."
+
+After Hard had got his match and joined Scott again behind the bushes,
+Polly sat and listened to the ominous sounds, her pleasant reflections
+quite at an end.
+
+"That's how it always goes. You begin to feel comfortable and pleased with
+your philosophy and yourself and then reality comes along and swats you
+one in the eye. I will not think of those Indians! I'll think of Bob and
+Emma. Wonder what kind of a nurse Emma makes? Not that she'll have a
+chance to try, poor lamb. Those trained ones will shoo her off and flirt
+with Bob themselves."
+
+It was some time before the two men finished their ugly job. Polly saw
+them come out from behind the bushes and go into the house by the back
+door. She stretched herself sleepily--it was beginning to be a bit chilly,
+even when wrapped in a coat and a serape. Perhaps it would be wiser to go
+in. She folded the serape and started for the door, only to stop midway as
+Scott came out.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I thought you'd all gone to bed."
+
+"And you know you ought to," said he. "I don't blame you for not wanting
+to. Those mountains get one, don't they?"
+
+They were standing exactly where they had stood so short a time ago, but
+so much had happened since that it seemed hours gone by. It wasn't to be
+expected, the girl thought, that they could go on from where they had left
+off. She looked up. He was staring at the mountains. She felt a ridiculous
+mixture of relief and disappointment.
+
+"They get me," she answered. "I never knew I was so fond of mountains."
+
+"It's the mystery of them. You have the feeling that things are going on
+in and about them that you don't know--that nobody'll ever know. I
+remember the first time I climbed a big mountain--up in Colorado. When I
+was about three-quarters of the way up I looked down on one of those
+little mountain lakes--just as blue as that ring of yours--set in the
+brown of the mountain. It made me feel as if I'd struck gold. I couldn't
+believe that anybody but the Indians and I had ever seen that lake."
+
+Scott was leaning against the post of the veranda, still looking at the
+mountains. Suddenly he turned.
+
+"Little girl, I think you'd better be going in and getting a few hours of
+sleep," he said. "Four o'clock comes along awfully early in the morning."
+
+Polly said nothing. She picked up the serape again and turned to go. Then
+she came back again, holding out her hand.
+
+"Mr. Scott, I haven't said a word to show that I'm grateful for what you
+did to-night. You saved my life, didn't you?"
+
+Scott took the hand and smiled down into the serious eyes.
+
+"I wouldn't go that far," he said. "Those fellows who horned into our
+fight did that, I reckon. I sure tried to, though, if you'd like to shake
+hands on that."
+
+"You risked your own life, anyhow, so please don't spoil my story."
+
+"Well, put it that I'll be delighted to save your life any time you say,
+even if I get my hide full of holes for doing it. How's that?"
+
+"That's all right," agreed Polly, heartily. "You may call me at twenty
+minutes of four, if you please," and she disappeared into the house.
+
+Scott stood a moment after she was gone, an odd little smile on his lips.
+
+"I wonder if she'd care--or would it be another case of Joyce Henderson?"
+he said. "Well, serve me right for a fool if it was!" He kicked a stick
+out of his way as he made for the wagon. "What have you got to offer a
+girl, anyhow?" He took a pocket torch out and examined the wheel of the
+wagon. "I've seen better looking wheels and then again I've seen worse,"
+he decided, pessimistically. "If our luck holds we'll make it. Doggone it,
+being civilized makes an awful idiot of a man. I'm going to dream of those
+poor Yaquis we've just buried, sure as shoe leather."
+
+Four o'clock does indeed come along early when you have not closed your
+eyes before midnight. It also comes along chilly and dark and generally
+uncomfortable. The women were awakened by Hard, who had to knock loudly on
+their door in order to accomplish it. They tumbled to their feet and
+performed the necessary dressing operations in the dark, except for a
+candle which Clara lighted cautiously.
+
+"And to think that people once lived by candlelight!" murmured Polly,
+sleepily. "Were born, married, and finally died by it. Well, the race has
+come up a peg, I'll say that for it."
+
+Mrs. Conrad was ready first. She was very rapid, in a quiet, unhurried
+fashion. In her corduroy skirt and jacket, she looked very girlish. Polly
+mentally took five years off her estimate of her new acquaintance's age.
+
+"Awfully natural looking woman, too," she commented, silently. "Most of
+the pretty women I know at home are always doing things to
+themselves--fussing over their looks; but she just seems to keep herself
+fresh and neat and let it go at that, and she manages to look young and
+handsome. As for me, I'm a rag and I look it, but perhaps as there are no
+tremendous beauties around, I'll pass."
+
+She followed Mrs. Conrad into the kitchen, where she found her busy with
+Herrick over the breakfast. The pleasant odors of burning wood and boiling
+coffee had already made themselves noticed. Scott, in a corner of the
+kitchen, was working over the harness which he was getting into a
+condition possible for use. He looked up and nodded as Polly entered.
+
+"Your gentleman friend left a few things; we won't have to starve on the
+road," he said, drily. "There's a side of bacon--wonder why he left
+that?"
+
+"Perhaps he didn't see it," suggested Polly, sweetly.
+
+"I guess that's the answer. There, I reckon that harness will take us as
+far as Athens, if we have a bit of luck. If you'll bring out what you want
+to take, Mrs. Conrad, we'll pack it in the wagon."
+
+"I've only a couple of suitcases. My trunks went by rail to the
+border--that is, they started."
+
+"How about you, Herrick? Afraid we can't take the piano."
+
+Herrick looked up in some surprise. "Me?" he said. "I am not going with
+you, my friend."
+
+"Not going with us? But, Victor, you can't stay here alone." Mrs. Conrad's
+voice had real solicitude in it.
+
+"Why not? Li will return and you shall send him first to Conejo to buy
+provisions. When things settle down, my men will come back and we shall go
+to work again."
+
+"You're going to stick by the ranch?" demanded Scott.
+
+"It is my home. What else have I?" The little man's voice was sad.
+
+"Well, maybe you're right," said Scott, after a moment. "The best way to
+hang on to property just now is to sit down on it. We'll send Li over to
+Conejo with the wagon and he can load up. If you get into trouble,
+remember you've got friends in this country." And the two men shook hands
+heartily as Scott tramped off to the wagon.
+
+Polly did not see the parting between the musician and Clara Conrad, but
+the latter looked, when she came out of the house, as though she had been
+crying, and the little man looked more pathetic than ever as he stood
+alone in the doorway waving them good-bye.
+
+"Do you think he ought to say there?" demanded Polly, as Scott helped her
+into the wagon.
+
+"No, I don't, but he's obstinate and you can't move him once he makes up
+his mind. There's a lot of the woman in every artistic man, I believe,"
+grunted Scott, disgustedly.
+
+A little later, with the two Athens horses hitched to the mountain wagon,
+the party started out, Hard driving. The road led out through the hills
+where the fighting had been only a few hours ago. There was no sign of
+what had happened. It was a poor road, narrow, rough and little used.
+There were ruts in it and chuck-holes, turns and an occasional arroyo. It
+was rather ghostly, too, driving at this hour; the chill, early morning
+feel of the air, the fading moon, the faint pinkness hanging over the
+mountains suggesting the coming dawn.
+
+"One thing you miss around here is the cattle," said Scott. "Up in New
+Mexico you'd be starting out this time in the morning and you'd see the
+range cattle looking at you, sort of surprised to see folks around so
+early in the morning; some of 'em still lying down and napping. Around
+here raising cattle hasn't been very popular the last few years--too
+hazardous."
+
+"Miss Polly, I want you to notice that funny little house over there,"
+said Hard, pointing to his right.
+
+"Where?"
+
+Indeed, there was reason for the question. The little cabin had been built
+tightly against a hill, with the hill scooped out to make the back part. A
+closer look revealed a burro standing on the roof beside the chimney.
+
+"Well, that's the first time I ever saw a burro on a roof!" declared
+Polly. "Who lives there?"
+
+"A Mexican family named Soria," replied Hard. "I'll go over and see if
+they know anything about the fighting last night."
+
+"You won't need to," said Scott. "Here comes the whole population."
+
+So it seemed. There was an old woman--very old, very thin and very brown;
+a younger one, half a dozen youngsters, several dogs and finally the
+burro. The family were clad in every sort of decrepit garment. Polly
+thought she had rarely seen so pitiful an assemblage; and yet they did not
+look particularly unhappy, except the younger woman, who hung back and
+seemed to have been crying. They had seen the wagon and had come out to
+find out what was going on. The older woman came directly to the wagon,
+while the younger one stood a little way off, a baby in her arms, and the
+other children hanging around her. She was rather a pretty woman, or would
+have been with half a chance. It is difficult to be pretty when your hair
+hangs in straggling locks, your too plump figure festoons itself around
+you in bags, and your clothes look as though you had never had them off
+since you first became acquainted with them. Poor things, they lead an
+awful life.
+
+"I'll let you speak to her, Clara," Hard said, with a smile. "I think your
+Spanish is in better working order than mine. Ask after the daughter's
+husband; he's in the army and it may open the way for a little
+information."
+
+Mrs. Conrad spoke in rapid and soft-sounding Spanish to the old woman who
+stood listening, her wrinkled face set in the monotony of hopelessness.
+
+"How beautifully she speaks Spanish!" thought Polly, enviously. "I don't
+understand a word of it, but even I can tell the difference between hers
+and the kind that both the men speak."
+
+"Good-morning, my friend." Clara's voice was cheerful and pleasant. "How
+is the family?"
+
+"Badly, senora, very badly. My son Manuel joined the army last night and
+with him his wife and two little ones. Now we have no man in the house--we
+shall starve."
+
+"But your daughter's husband?"
+
+"Francisco was killed last week in a fight. The soldiers brought the news.
+Carlotta has four little ones now and no man."
+
+"That is very bad. I am sorry. What soldiers do you mean?"
+
+"Last night. The soldiers who came from the north."
+
+"D'you mean that the crowd that was fighting up here in the hills were
+soldiers?" broke in Scott, eagerly. "Federal soldiers?"
+
+"No, no, the soldiers of the revolution--Sonora troops. They march south
+against Sinaloa." Carlotta had crept nearer and was taking part in the
+conversation.
+
+"I don't get you. Who was doing the fighting?" demanded Scott.
+
+The old woman burst into rapid speech, leaving Scott in the lurch
+immediately. Clara came to his rescue.
+
+"The poor old thing is more Indian than Mexican and she doesn't talk very
+clearly," she said. "She says that the party which came along the road
+last night was a regiment of cavalry from up north. They saw the barn
+burning and thought that the bandits were on the march; so they started
+over that way. They fell in with the stragglers of the Yaqui crowd and
+started to fight. As near as I can tell, each party seems to have thought
+that the other was Angel Gonzales' band. The Yaquis had been rooted out of
+their village by Gonzales and were on the warpath, poor creatures.
+
+"Fortunately, there were a lot of Yaquis in the troop and by the time the
+fellows who were trying to loot us came along they began to understand the
+situation and the lot of them joined the troops. This old lady's son,
+Manuel, joined too, and his wife and babies went along. That explains why
+they let us alone last night."
+
+"It does," said Scott. "And it shows that Angel is around somewhere bent
+on deviltry. Here, old lady, is something to buy chow for the babies for a
+few days--better luck to you!" He handed her some money and they drove
+away amid loud thanks and happy smiles.
+
+"What in the world do you mean by the wife and babies going, too?"
+demanded Polly, excitedly.
+
+"Why, here in Mexico war is a family affair," replied Scott. "There's no
+such thing as the girl I left behind me. The Missus goes along and so do
+the youngsters. She does most of the foraging for food on the march."
+
+"The Mexican believes in equality of the sexes," said Hard. "He believes
+that the woman has just as much right to do manual labor, to provide a
+living for the family, to fight, and to perform all the other unpleasant
+functions of living as he has. If there are not enough to go around, he
+generously allows her to do his share."
+
+"It's great to be a wife in Mexico," observed Scott, drily. "Think of
+that, Miss Polly, next time you meet a fascinating Spaniard."
+
+"Don't be disagreeable," said Mrs. Conrad, "and don't tell fibs. It's the
+women of the lower classes who have the hard time down here just as they
+do in every country."
+
+"Except the U. S. A.," replied Scott, stoutly. "A woman may have hard luck
+in our country because she's sick or poor or married to a no-account; but
+not because the general opinion of the female sex is so darned low that
+any loafer who comes along feels that he's got a right to treat her as he
+pleases."
+
+"How you like to argue every point, don't you?" observed Polly. "Were you
+born like that or did it grow on you? Oh!"
+
+The "oh" was literally jolted out of her. Turning rather a sudden curve at
+a pretty good clip, the wagon slipped over the edge of a chuck-hole a
+little deeper than the ordinary. Happening as it did in just the right
+place, it caught the weakened wheel and wrenched it off as neatly and as
+suddenly as a dentist wrenches a tooth out of the jaw of an unwilling
+patient.
+
+There was a crash and a jar as the wagon sank on its side, and the
+frightened horses struggling to pull the dragging load, snapped the
+harness where Scott had patched it. The occupants were jumbled into the
+bottom of the wagon, except Hard, who was pitched out into the road. Scott
+was out in a minute and at the horses' heads; the women righted themselves
+just in time to see Hard pull himself to his feet, staggering as he did
+so.
+
+"Hurt, Henry?" asked Scott, who was trying to calm the horses.
+
+"No, just bent my knee under me."
+
+"Here, hold these critturs while I pull the ladies out!"
+
+"We're all right--that is, I'm all right. Look after Mrs. Conrad," said
+Polly, as Scott lifted her from the debris. "What was it? The wheel?"
+
+Mrs. Conrad gladly availed herself of Scott's ready arm. "What did Henry
+do?" she said. By this time, Scott was loosing the horses from the harness
+and Hard had hobbled over to the edge of the road, where he sat down.
+
+"It's my bad knee," he explained. "I did this once, only much worse,
+playing football in college. Fell, you know, with it doubled under me. I
+was laid up for six months."
+
+"Oh, Henry!"
+
+"Oh, I shan't be this time. It always lames me for a few hours, though,
+when I do anything to it. Knees are great chaps for bearing malice."
+
+"Well, you certainly shan't walk to Athens," said Polly, with decision.
+"You must ride one horse and Mrs. Conrad the other, while Mr. Scott and I
+walk. I'd love to!"
+
+"Dear child, you couldn't," exclaimed Clara. "Could you ride, Henry, do
+you think? You and Polly could ride to Athens and send somebody back for
+us with the other wagon."
+
+"I could," said Hard, "but I'd rather not. I'd like to rest it for a
+couple of hours if I could. Scott, suppose you walk and let them ride and
+leave me here. There's a shady-looking spot over in those cottonwoods and
+I'll just rest there till I'm able to hobble back to the Soria place. You
+can send for me there."
+
+"There's a trail just above here that goes over and strikes the one we
+came on about eight miles from Athens," said Scott, doubtfully. "I've
+never traveled it, but Gomez told me about it last year. Rough, he said,
+but navigable. I guess that's what we'd better do, Hard, leave you here
+and I'll walk."
+
+"How far is it?" asked Mrs. Conrad.
+
+"Oh, twenty miles, maybe. It cuts off a good deal."
+
+"You shan't walk twenty miles on a rough trail, my dear man, if I can
+prevent it," said Clara, firmly. "You and Polly must ride, and I'll stay
+here with Henry. Now, please! I'm at home in this country and I'm not
+afraid." There was a pause, then Scott said:
+
+"I guess she's right, Hard. They don't either of 'em ride well enough to
+tackle a strange trail alone, and if I walk it will delay sending back for
+you. One of us had better ride the trail with Polly, while the other stays
+at Soria's with Mrs. Conrad."
+
+After a little more discussion it was decided that Scott and Polly should
+go, while the other two returned, after Hard had rested a bit, to the
+Soria place. Scott moved the suitcases which Clara had brought over to the
+little nook made by the cottonwoods, where they could be left until
+someone came with the Athens wagon, and helped Hard to hobble over there.
+Then, feeling rather as though they had deserted their friends, and yet
+not knowing what else to do, Scott and Polly rode away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE TRAIL
+
+
+In after years, Scott was wont to say that he distrusted the trail
+recommended by Gomez from the moment his horse started to travel it.
+
+"It was one of those trails that didn't look right--from the first," he
+would say with a reminiscent inflection. As a matter of fact, however, the
+trail looked innocent enough at the first glance, and Scott's pessimism
+may be laid partly to the circumstances under which the trip was attempted
+and partly to the fact that Scott almost always hated to change his mind.
+
+"How long will it be, do you suppose, before you can send back for the
+others?" queried Polly, as they rode away.
+
+"Well, we ought to make Athens to-night," replied Scott, thoughtfully.
+"Tom could start back with our wagon early in the morning. Cochise and
+this fellow I'm riding, Jasper, could make it."
+
+"They'll have to stay at the Sorias' all night. They'll be very
+uncomfortable."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. They're neither of them tenderfeet. They'll get
+along."
+
+"It'll be very romantic, of course, and very exciting," sighed Polly.
+
+"Romantic? Why?"
+
+"Well, people have a way of making love to widows," said Polly, wistfully.
+"And anybody with half an eye can see that he likes her."
+
+"Shucks! Hard's a gentleman; he won't think he has to be rude to a woman
+just because he's left alone with her overnight."
+
+"It isn't being rude to ask a woman to marry you if you happen to like
+her, is it?" demanded Polly, with spirit.
+
+"It is, under some circumstances," replied Scott, shortly. "You're pretty
+romantic, aren't you, for a grown-up girl?"
+
+"I? Not at all." Polly flushed, indignantly. "But I'm interested when I
+see two people that I like falling nicely in love with each other."
+
+"She's not in love with him or she'd have married him when she had the
+chance," said Scott, authoritatively. "She's an ambitious woman; what does
+she want of a man buried in a coal mine?"
+
+"She may have changed. That was a long time ago," ventured the girl. "And
+if she cares for him, she might forget her ambition. Women do,
+sometimes."
+
+"Yes, in books they do," replied Scott, moodily. "But I never saw a woman
+in her class give up anything she really wanted just to marry a poor man.
+If she did, she'd probably make him miserable afterward, when she was
+sorry she'd done it."
+
+They rode a while in silence. Polly was hurt and angry. It occurred to her
+that Scott's objection to her romantic imaginings was based on something
+deeper than just his usual argumentativeness. Perhaps her imagination had
+misled her in regard to what had been in his eyes the night before. Or
+rather, not her imagination, but her vanity. It was a disagreeable thought
+for one who had promised herself to have done forever with that unpleasant
+trait. Also, down underneath, there was a hurt that had nothing to do with
+vanity.
+
+Scott rode silently, occupied with his thoughts. He glanced now and then,
+however, at the slender figure of the girl who rode beside him. She was
+very pleasing to look upon, with her curly, reddish hair, big dark eyes,
+delicate features, and smooth tanned skin. Her white hat was pulled down
+to shade her eyes; her brown coat, trousers and boots wore a jaunty
+appearance; but it was not altogether of appearances that Scott was
+thinking.
+
+It is possible with some of us to view the outward and the inward at the
+same time and to render quite unrelated verdicts. Scott had been conscious
+of doing this before with Polly Street, but of late somehow the verdicts
+had begun to agree. He was finding the inward Polly quite as attractive as
+the outward. Had she changed or had he learned to look deeper, he
+wondered? He had thought her spoiled and superficial, yet possessing
+undoubtedly worth-while qualities, such as pluck and honesty--things you
+cannot be deceived in.
+
+Now he was finding another side to the girl; a something very sweet and
+lovable. Was he being led away by the eye of man which is troubled by many
+things, or was the better side of the girl coming to the surface under
+different conditions? Was she beginning to care a little for him or was
+she playing with him as she probably had done with the Henderson boy?
+Scott set his teeth grimly.
+
+There are after all two great classes into which humanity may be divided;
+those who are living purposefully, in the higher sense of the word, and
+those who are drifting. The purposeful people may and often do go wrong,
+but they have at least something to come back to when they right
+themselves. The drifters, on the other hand, are not only without help for
+themselves, but have a dreadful way of clutching at the purposeful ones
+and submerging them as well. The average man or woman who belongs to the
+former class has rather a horror of the drifter and likes to give him a
+wide berth. Something of this nature had passed through Scott's head more
+than once when he had been attracted by a woman whose outer and inner
+trappings did not correspond.
+
+It was so easy, however, to like this auburn-headed youngster, who seemed
+to have gotten over her anger against him and to be beginning to like him.
+She had such a warm, quick smile; such a caressing look in those serious
+eyes. She was so natural and easy with him; turned to him so quickly for
+his approval of what she said or did and took his uncouth criticism so
+sweetly. It was flattering--yes, that was just the point. Was she sincere,
+or was she planning to add him to the list of her victims? She would not
+do that. He was no boy, to be petted and thrown aside.
+
+About this time, they came upon the trail. The little river had followed
+the road for about a mile and a half, when across on its other bank Scott
+saw a deep rut leading out of it and continuing in a narrow line or trail
+so faint as to be easily overlooked. It wound along, lost itself in some
+chaparral and doubtless became clear again beyond. The chaparral being on
+a little rise, one could not see beyond it.
+
+"There we are," he called to the girl, who had fallen a little behind.
+"Wait a bit till I find a place to get down the bank on this side."
+
+Polly waited. Scott rode up and down the bank; finally he stopped.
+
+"We'll have to cross here," he called. "It's steep but it's all right.
+Follow me," and both he and his horse disappeared in the river bed. Polly
+rode up and took a look at the descent.
+
+"I won't go so far as to say that he picked a nasty one because he's out
+of temper, but it looks like it," she grumbled. "Go on, pony, if he can do
+it I suppose we can."
+
+The pony put her two forefeet over the edge of the descent and clung to
+solidity and sanity with her hind two.
+
+"I don't blame you. It's what I'd do if I had four legs and some fool
+tried to make me slide down a precipice. But we've got to go. That man's
+got a jaw like Napoleon and there's no use arguing with him."
+
+She looked down. Scott had reached the bottom and was smiling back at her.
+One had to admit that he had the sort of smile which warmed up the
+atmosphere.
+
+"Want me to come and lead her?" he offered.
+
+"I do not." Polly gave her mount a little dig with her heel, the tension
+on the hind legs relaxed, a series of slides and jolts and the descent was
+made. She found herself in the river with Scott while the horses drank
+thirstily.
+
+"It was the only place to come down," he said, penitently.
+
+"Well, I wasn't scared, it was the horse," replied Polly, briefly. "You
+needn't think that every time we hang back it's my fault."
+
+"I've known times when it was a sign of good sense to be scared," retorted
+Scott, as he turned his horse's nose toward the upward climb.
+
+"That man can use up more good gray matter trying to dodge paying one a
+compliment than most men use in thinking up one," decided Polly.
+
+The way through the chaparral was trying. The trail was very faint, the
+stiff brush hit one in the face and almost tore one's clothing. It was
+necessary for Scott to go first in order to keep the trail, while the girl
+fell considerably into the rear to escape the blows from the brush which
+flew back after he had disturbed it. On either side of them, above the
+brush, rose walls formed by foothills, growing higher as they went. They
+were evidently going directly into the mountains.
+
+"Of course, we crossed two ranges when we came from Athens to Casa
+Grande," reasoned Polly, "and we've got to cross them again going back.
+But this doesn't look as though we were going through any gaps as we did
+on the other trail. We're evidently going straight up. It's going to be
+hard on the horses."
+
+It _was_ hard on the horses. It was getting on in the afternoon and the
+sun was still very hot. They had seen no water since leaving the little
+river. The trail had come out of the brush and become a narrow--a very
+narrow ledge on the side of the mountain, while on the other side one
+looked down into a ravine deep enough to make one's head swim if one
+looked too long. Scott ploughed along ahead, looking back whenever the
+trail showed a nasty place, ready to jump off and go to the girl's rescue
+if necessary.
+
+"She's a plucky one all right," he said to himself. "This is no trail for
+a tenderfoot. I hope we don't run into anything worse before we get
+through. How are you coming?" he called back.
+
+They had come to a turn in the trail. Huge boulders poised on the edge of
+the narrow ledge with that utter disregard for gravity displayed now and
+then by rocks which look big enough to know better. Scott had dismounted
+and stood looking into the ravine which had widened into a valley. In
+front of him, on the narrow turn, it seemed but a step to the tree-tops of
+the valley below. Further ahead, lay the next range of mountains, higher
+than the ones through which they were passing. Back of them, the winding
+trail seemed to flutter like a brown ribbon. Polly hopped down and joined
+him. Together they drank in the scene.
+
+"It's too lovely. It hurts," said the girl, with wet eyes.
+
+"Isn't it? I didn't know myself that there was anything around here like
+this."
+
+"It's worth being raided for," replied Polly. "Let's stay here a while and
+keep on looking."
+
+Scott smiled. "Will it spoil it for you if I eat a sandwich?" he said.
+
+"Not if there's one for me, too," laughed the girl. "But I thought you
+left all the lunch with the others."
+
+"Not all. I'm too good a woodsman to go on a strange trail with nothing to
+eat in my saddle-bag. Luckily I didn't have to leave them the canteen."
+They ate the sandwiches--saving a portion for dinner in case they were
+late reaching Athens--and washed them down with warm water from the
+canteen.
+
+"Let's look around the corner before we mount again," suggested the girl.
+"I like to know what's ahead of me."
+
+"Around the corner" was a slope down into the ravine, more gradual than
+before and green with stunted grass and mesquite. Here and there a cactus
+rose gauntly, some in the tall Spanish bayonet with its lovely bloom, and
+some in the low, dagger-like plant close to the ground. Above them, on the
+right side rose the rocky wall of the mountain, not altogether sheer in
+its ascent, but curving in and then out at the top, the upper ridge
+forming a shelf. Mesquite grew seemingly out of the solid rock.
+
+"Oh, look," exclaimed the girl. "There's almost a little cave up there
+under that shelf! It could be a rustler's cave if there were any rustlers
+around."
+
+"There are more rustlers than there are things to rustle," remarked her
+companion.
+
+Standing on the narrow trail, they looked over and down into the valley.
+It was lonely to look at; not a house, not a living creature, and yet so
+very beautiful--with a warmth of color and sunshine. Polly did not speak.
+Her eyes were fixed on the scene below. She did not see the look on
+Scott's face as he stood beside her, gazing not at the valley but at the
+purity of her face so near his shoulder.
+
+It was very still. Suddenly a bird flew from one of the bushes, flew
+across the rock in front of their faces. Polly, her thought broken, turned
+quickly and surprised the hungry look in Scott's eyes. Her face flushed
+and neither spoke. Then, impulsively, he took her in his arms and kissed
+her passionately, Polly, sobbing, clinging to him in a silence full of
+meaning. As suddenly Scott put her away from him, holding her and looking
+into her eyes.
+
+"Do you mean it?" he demanded almost angrily. "You're not playing with
+me?"
+
+Polly did not answer. She looked up into his eyes, her own still wet. He
+took her in his arms again.
+
+"I don't see why!" he said, softly. "There's nothing about me for you to
+fall in love with. Are you sure?"
+
+"Very sure," she lifted her head. "I was sure last night, when you nearly
+told me--before those Indians came. Why didn't you want to tell me?"
+
+"Because I knew I'd no business to," replied Scott, roughly. "I've no
+business to, now, but I'm human and when you stood there with the sun on
+your hair, and that look on your face, I fell."
+
+"I'll stand that way again," smiled Polly, "if you'll stop scowling and
+say nice things to me. It isn't a criminal offense, Marc Scott, for an
+unmarried man to fall in love with me. Don't feel so badly about it."
+
+"It may not be criminal, but it's not square," replied Scott, obstinately.
+"With you a rich man's daughter, and----"
+
+"But not an heiress, remember! That makes a difference," she said,
+coaxingly.
+
+"Perhaps--anyhow, I'm glad you're not rich," said Scott, soberly. "I think
+I'd fight with a rich wife."
+
+"My dear Marc, you and I would fight, no matter who had the money. We're
+the scrappy kind. But, on the other hand, we'll always make up again, and
+that's what counts. That's what Joyce Henderson and I couldn't do. We went
+for months and months without a quarrel, but when we once had one we
+couldn't get over it."
+
+"You're sure you've forgotten about that chap?"
+
+"Quite. He doesn't exist."
+
+Again they were silent, the sun picking out radiant bits of Polly's hair
+to light upon as she stood leaning against Scott's arm, his rough coat
+rubbing her soft skin.
+
+"It's a nice old world," she said, drawing a long breath.
+
+"It's good enough for me," he answered as he leaned over and kissed her.
+
+"Do you know, I've been wondering for a week whether it was me or Mrs. Van
+Zandt that you were in love with?" said Polly, with one of her sudden
+smiles.
+
+"Me? Care for----" Scott's voice died away in surprise.
+
+"You behaved as though you did. You are always so gentle and pleasant with
+her."
+
+"I'm gentle and pleasant with everybody," declared Scott, stoutly. "I have
+that kind of disposition."
+
+"I think you'd better go and get the horses," suggested Polly. "I'd rather
+not begin disagreeing with you just yet."
+
+Scott, chuckling, went back after the horses. Polly, left alone, sat down
+on a stone and gave a little sigh of contentment.
+
+"To think," she said, incredulously, "that once I thought I was in love
+with Joyce Henderson!"
+
+"Polly!" Scott's voice was sharp. He came around the turn on a trot.
+"Those cussed horses have cleared out and left us high and dry. I've got
+to go after them."
+
+"But--I thought horses always went home when they ran off!"
+
+"I think they've gone down into the canyon--there may be water down there.
+Will you sit here while I go after them?"
+
+"I suppose so," forlornly. "You won't stay long?"
+
+"Be back in half an hour." Scott disappeared down the trail. Polly watched
+him a moment or two and then returned to her resting place. Something of
+the happiness was gone from her eyes. The accident was ill-timed. It
+brought a feeling of foreboding most disagreeable in its contrast with her
+former exaltation. She jumped to her feet determined to do something to
+take her mind off the ugly thought.
+
+"I'll climb up and see if that really is a cave up there," she thought.
+Fired by this ambition, she started to work her way up the cliff; no easy
+task and ruinous to riding boots of soft leather. By the time she had
+discovered this last fact she had covered about one-third of the distance
+and was crouching beside a protruding rock to get her breath. "It's rather
+foolish to tear up a perfectly good pair of riding boots just at the
+psychological moment when leather is villainously high and I'm on the
+verge of marrying a poor man. I guess I'll give up the cave."
+
+If the view had been remarkable from the trail, it was marvelous from the
+little eminence which she had reached. She looked and looked, her eyes
+full of wonder. Away in the distance, a tiny stream fluttered its way over
+the brown side of the mountain, which the sun seemed to polish until it
+shone; while on the shadowed side, the pines took on a dark, heavy green,
+both sombre and beautiful. Below her, on the trail--but what was that?
+Coming over the top of a hilly rise, a little way below, was a man on a
+horse--then a second and a third, and finally a line of riders, so long a
+line that it suggested a regiment!
+
+Polly's mind worked quickly. There was but one explanation; Angel Gonzales
+was in the neighborhood, was on his way to rendezvous with Juan Pachuca,
+and without doubt this was Angel Gonzales, and these were his men. What
+should she do? They were coming very rapidly, and whatever was done would
+have to be done instantly. Her first thought was for Scott. He would be
+taken unaware. If she could only get to him--warn him--so that he could
+hide in the brush till the men had passed! Breathlessly, she began to
+climb down the cliff. She was badly frightened, her nerve was shaken and
+her strength seemed to be leaving her. She found herself slipping and
+sliding on the rock.
+
+Another look at the riders showed them very near--so near that her courage
+failed her. In a panic she began to climb again. She must reach the little
+cave before they saw her. She could not fall into the hands of Angel
+Gonzales. She caught her breath in little sobs, her heart seemed about to
+burst, every foot gained meant a desperate effort. She clutched at the
+tufts of mesquite that grew out of the rock and thanked Providence that
+her brown suit was so nearly the color of the cliff. Gasping and sobbing,
+she finally sank behind the mesquite bush which covered the cave.
+
+It was not really a cave, she discovered, but merely a crevice in the
+cliff, made into a little shelf by the rock which protruded above it,
+while the bush growing thickly in front of it gave it the look of a cave.
+It was, however, a shelter, and Polly crouched in it thankfully, breathing
+with difficulty and keeping one eye on the line of men filing along below
+her. They were a hard looking lot, clad in all sorts of clothes from
+uniforms to overalls. They seemed to her inexperienced eye innumerable;
+they were, perhaps, seventy-five or a hundred.
+
+"And poor--like an army of tramps," she thought. "Very desperate
+tramps--oh, why didn't I keep on and try to warn Marc?"
+
+She could not understand her panic, now that her own danger was over and
+the men had passed. Marc Scott had called her a brave girl, and she had
+saved her own skin and let him walk into the trap. She sobbed bitterly. If
+there was only anything that she could do! To sit there in that awful
+silence was more than she could bear. She could no longer see the riders,
+who had turned the curve and were out of sight and sound. Far off in the
+distance two buzzards circled about over something that was dead or dying.
+Perhaps it was a man--at the thought the girl rose unsteadily to her feet.
+She could not stay alone another moment in this horrible place; she would
+go and find Scott, if she had to brave Angel Gonzales to do it. With a
+recklessness born of desperation she slid and scuffled down the side of
+the cliff and ran blindly down the trail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ANGEL
+
+
+Scott, starting breezily down the trail after the recreant horses,
+whistled a tune as he went, for he was happy. He did not weigh reason
+against happiness--it was too soon for that. He would have given you,
+however, if pressed, a number of very good reasons why he and Polly Street
+were going to be happy together, in spite of their different upbringing,
+and his own not very lucid reasons for not having wanted to marry her.
+
+Just at present he was occupied with the idea of the horses. He felt that
+they would not be apt to go back on the trail unless it was to look for
+water, and water they might find at the bottom of the ravine though the
+underbrush was too dense for him to see it. He could follow their trail
+very easily in the sandy path but he walked a quarter of a mile before he
+found the place where they had struck out of the trail for the bottom of
+the ravine.
+
+Very cautiously he started down, for the going was decidedly bad and he
+had no wish to risk a fall. He trailed the prints, marveling at the
+sure-footedness of the animal which can follow so hazardous a path.
+
+"I wouldn't dare put a horse down a trail like this," he mused with a
+grin, "and yet the rascals will go down by themselves as smooth as silk.
+Hullo, I guessed right! There is water down here. There's old Jasper
+filling up on it, and the mare, too. Well, I guess we don't walk home this
+trip." And just as Polly, some hundreds of feet above him was trying madly
+to reach the cave, Scott, quite oblivious of impending danger, started on
+his difficult climb, leading the two horses.
+
+"Serve you darn well right, you fellows, if I was to make you haul me," he
+said, as Jasper's soft nose rubbed against his shoulder. "I would, too, if
+I didn't think you'd slide down and break my neck just when my girl needs
+me. Come on, you grafters, shake a leg, will you?"
+
+It was a bad climb. The perspiration rolled off Scott's face and the veins
+stood out upon his forehead. Gasping for breath, he dug his toes into the
+soft earth and plugged ahead, pulling the reluctant animals after him. He
+had nearly gained the top, was within twenty feet, perhaps, of the end of
+the climb, when Jasper began to pull back. They were breaking through some
+brush, Scott being nearly through when Jasper began pulling. Scott gave
+the bridle an irritated jerk and spoke sharply to the horse. As he did so,
+he looked up and saw Angel Gonzales and his band coming down the trail.
+For a second, Scott lost his wits. He took a quick step forward, giving
+the bridle another jerk as he did so. Jasper, naturally aggrieved, pulled
+back again, and Scott, standing on a loose bit of rock, slipped, tried to
+right himself, slipped again, overbalanced, fell and rolled down--over
+boulders, through brush, falling ever faster as he tried to regain a
+foothold.
+
+Both bridles had been wrenched from his hand as he fell and the horses,
+half scared, half inquisitive, followed him a few steps and then returned
+to the munching of grass, behind the clump of brush.
+
+Angel Gonzales, a large, brutal-looking man, his face covered with a black
+beard, his clothes bearing the mark of many a scuffle, swung down the
+trail in the lead, his particular crony, one Porfirio Cortes, riding
+immediately after him. A little distance intervened between Cortes and the
+other members of the party. Even in bandit circles the line is drawn
+somewhere, and in Angel's band it was drawn immediately after Porfirio
+Cortes.
+
+Angel rode, one leg thrown over his pommel, which enabled him to chat
+comfortably with Cortes. They were talking of Juan Pachuca.
+
+"A slippery one, that," Cortes had remarked, keenly. "I don't believe he
+means to throw in his lot with us. When I see him do it, I will
+believe--not before."
+
+"Why not? I have more men than he has. He needs men. All he has is this
+understanding that he brags of with the new government."
+
+"Lies, _amigo_, lies! His record with Carranza is against him."
+
+"Well, all men lie," replied Angel, tersely, and with probably no
+intention of plagiarism. "Anyhow, we can do some good fighting together.
+There will be some fine pickings when we get the old man out of Mexico
+City. Think of the money, the fine clothes, the women!"
+
+"Yes, I think of them," replied Cortes, meditatively. "But I think also of
+Obregon. I hate that man. He hung a cousin of mine, once, for less than
+what you and I did to those Yaquis. Also, he has persecuted Villa."
+
+"Well, so will I persecute Villa if I ever get a chance," replied Angel,
+cheerfully. "The fat thief! Think of the gold he has hidden in these
+mountains! Hold--what is that? Down in the canyon? Horses! Is it troops,
+do you think?"
+
+"Troops--in a hole like that? It might be those Indians--an ambush!"
+
+"It would be like the devils. I don't see them now."
+
+"You saw Soria's burro, most likely. Your nerves are bad, as the gringos
+say." Both men grinned and rode on. Suddenly, they heard a crashing sound
+of scattering stones that rose even above the noise made by their horses.
+Angel threw up his head in alarm, very much as a horse does when he scents
+danger. "It is the Indians," he said to Porfirio. "We must not be attacked
+in this narrow place. Forward! Ride! The Yaquis are upon us!" he cried,
+driving the spurs into his horse. He was followed by Cortes, who in turn
+was followed by the others. The entire band gave a vivid moving picture of
+a reckless run down a narrow trail, by a hundred men, any one of whom
+would have considered it utter madness had he been alone.
+
+Marc Scott, stopped by a mesquite bush near the bottom of the canyon, lay
+for a few moments where he had fallen, literally too shaken to move. When
+he realized what had happened to him, he crawled to his feet and listened.
+All was still. The sounds from above had ceased, and a cloud of dust
+hovering over the trail was the only evidence that he had not imagined the
+passing of a crowd of men.
+
+"By golly, I believe they didn't hear me after all!" he gasped. Then the
+thought came to him of Polly--alone on the trail above him. A sickening
+fear shook him; how could she possibly have escaped those men? In a blind
+fury he started to climb the ravine. It had been hard going before--now,
+in spite of his body, stiff and shaken, he did not feel the effort. His
+face was purple with heat and exertion, his hands were bloody with the
+cactus he had clutched when falling, but his terror for the girl dwarfed
+all physical discomfort. Panting and choking, he forged ahead. If he could
+only reach Jasper he would follow that cloud of dust until he knew what
+had happened to the woman he loved.
+
+Jasper and the mare, uninfluenced by motives either of fear or anger,
+still grazed by the clump of brush and allowed the almost exhausted Scott
+to lead them back to the trail. He mounted Jasper, and turned the mare
+loose. He started down the trail after the vanished band at a pace quite
+as reckless as their own.
+
+"Marc! Marc Scott!" Polly's voice rose desperately as she saw him
+disappearing down the trail. "Come back here!"
+
+Scott turned, bewildered, to see Polly running wildly toward him. She
+flung herself upon him and upon Jasper before he could dismount, pouring
+out the story of the men who had gone down the trail.
+
+"And the worst of it was," she wept, stormily, "that I didn't even try to
+warn you. I just made for that cave and hid myself. That's the sort of a
+girl I am."
+
+"Did you, honey? Do you know, that strikes me as mighty sensible? I don't
+hold much with girls saving men's lives outside the movies, where they're
+well paid for it. It strikes me life-saving is a man-sized job."
+
+"But you're all scratched! What in the world----"
+
+"I had to roll down the hill to dodge 'em," chuckled Scott, as he caught
+the mare and helped the girl to mount her. "I'll tell you about it after a
+while; just now I think we'd better be on our way."
+
+They rode on in silence, back over the trail and around the curve past the
+imitation cave which had sheltered Polly. Scott eyed the horses with
+inward pessimism.
+
+"They're never going to make it," he thought. "They're about all in now.
+Wish I knew whether to camp out and go on in the morning or to keep on
+pushing. If I was alone I'd bed down for the night but I hate to ask her
+to spend a night in the open unless I have to. Well, we'll go on a
+while."
+
+They rode on, the tired horses going more and more slowly and responding
+less and less readily to urging. The trail did not go all the way down
+into the canyon, but met a rocky ledge which crossed it like a natural
+bridge. It was narrow and it was slippery with loose stones, but the girl
+took it silently. She was too tired and hungry to be afraid. The two
+sandwiches seemed things belonging to another life. She tried to smile
+when Scott looked back at her but it was hard work.
+
+They came off the ledge onto the side of a hill which formed a part of the
+second range of mountains. The spot, green as a deer park, was directly on
+the side of the hill, about half-way up. Around it were trees--pines and
+live oaks. The trail seemed to have disappeared altogether. Scott had
+dismounted and was waiting for the girl to come up.
+
+"What's the matter?" she demanded, anxiously.
+
+He dropped his horse's bridle and came to her side. "I've a question for
+you, best girl," he said, his hand on the pommel of her saddle, "These
+horses are hardly fit to climb this next range. They might do it and make
+the rest of the trip to-day if we urged them but it ain't a square deal.
+Then, too, it would be dark before we got there.
+
+"This is a place where we could stay. There's pasture for the horses and I
+think that little stream that I found down in the canyon starts from up
+here somewhere. If we go on we may make it and again we may get tangled up
+in the mountains after dark, which I don't fancy. I'm no forest ranger,
+you know. Shall we stay here till three or four o'clock in the morning or
+shall we plug ahead? It's up to you."
+
+Polly turned an appalled face toward him. "But, Marc, you don't mean to
+stay here--in this place--all night?" she said, faintly.
+
+"Well, it won't be exactly all night. It's nearly five o'clock now and we
+could start at daybreak."
+
+"But--why, we haven't anything to stop with! No tent and no blankets and
+nothing to eat! It would be rather dreadful, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Well, not dreadful, exactly. We've the blankets under our saddles, and
+you have your long cloak. I'll build you a fire. Of course there's nothing
+to eat except the rest of the sandwiches."
+
+"Well, perhaps--it would be pretty bad to get lost up here after dark.
+There might be mountain lions or mad skunks. They do have mad skunks out
+here, don't they?"
+
+Scott chuckled. "Search me, honey, all the skunks I ever met were mad.
+Come on down and we'll have a look at the country."
+
+"Marc," Polly looked down at him, her eyes soft, "I'm wondering what I
+would have done if those bandits had gobbled you."
+
+"I don't let bandits gobble me when I'm escorting ladies," replied Scott.
+Then meeting her eyes, the twinkle faded out of his. "You'd better say
+what would I have done if you hadn't hidden in that cave." His head rested
+for a moment against her knee.
+
+"I don't know. Seems as though things were being managed for us, doesn't
+it?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+He lifted her to her feet and she looked around her curiously.
+
+"It's a pretty place," she pronounced. "I hope you're right about the
+water. I saw a little stream way up in the mountains when I climbed to the
+cave."
+
+"I'm going to let Jasper find it for me," replied Scott. He had the
+saddles off the tired horses in a few seconds and they lay down and rolled
+happily, drying their sweaty backs in the dust. When they got to their
+feet again, he took the two long ropes from the saddles and fastened them
+around the horses' necks.
+
+"Are you going to tie them up?" demanded the girl.
+
+"Not now. Going to let them drag the ropes around. I can catch 'em easy
+that way. Guess they're too tired to go far."
+
+The horses had smelled the water and made for it. It ran in a trickling
+little stream down the hillside about a dozen feet away, hidden by some
+brush. Once refreshed, they were easily led back and began to feed on the
+coarse grass. Scott shook out the blankets.
+
+"They're a bit horsey," he admitted, "but they'll keep you warm. I put
+them under the saddles instead of the regular saddle blankets because I've
+been caught out this way before. A man learns things in this country." He
+handed Polly her long coat and she slipped into it. "This isn't exactly
+the time of year I'd pick for a camping trip," he added, "but we'll do, I
+reckon. Do you want to eat the sandwiches now, or do you prefer dinner at
+six?"
+
+Polly eyed the two big sandwiches with a serious eye. "Let's look at them
+a while first," she said, hungrily. "Isn't there any way of getting
+anything else? Can't you shoot something?"
+
+"I don't see anything but you and me and the horses. What's the matter?"
+For the girl had given a shriek of joy.
+
+"In my coat pocket! A cake of chocolate that Mrs. Van put there--and the
+sugar. I always bring it for the horses. We'll keep the chocolate for
+breakfast, shall we?"
+
+They ate the sandwiches and topped off with the sugar. "Which," said
+Polly, seriously, "is very strengthening. I've heard that they feed it to
+the Japanese army."
+
+"Yes, I've heard that, too," assented Scott, "but I reckon that's not all
+they feed 'em."
+
+"Well, it's not all you've been fed, either, so don't grumble," said the
+lady, practically.
+
+"I think," said Scott, rising, "that before it grows dark I'll investigate
+this trail a bit. It looks sort of blind to me. If we have to start by
+moonlight it'll be just as well to have some notion of where to begin."
+
+Polly leaned back against a tree and watched him lazily. He looked very
+strong and capable. She recalled Joyce Henderson's graceful proportions
+and smiled. She had had to come a long way to find the man she wanted but
+she was well content. It was odd, she reflected, that she and Joyce
+Henderson, who had known each other all their lives, were like strangers
+once they attempted the more intimate relation; while for this man whom
+she had known but a few weeks she felt a sense of familiarity, of
+belongingness, that she could scarcely believe. She was trusting him now
+in a way that she had never imagined herself trusting any man and yet she
+felt at ease.
+
+Scott, returning, threw himself down beside her. "I've found the trail,"
+he said, "but we've got some traveling ahead of us. Don't look to me as if
+anybody'd been over it since Gomez was."
+
+"Didn't those men come this way?"
+
+"No. They must have hit the trail lower down--from some place we've
+missed. I'll swear no crowd like that have been where I've just been."
+
+The girl looked at him gravely. "Do you think we ought to go back?"
+
+"Back? No, I don't. Those folks are waiting for us at Soria's and I want
+to get Tom started for them as soon as I can."
+
+"I wonder if those men will make any trouble at Soria's?"
+
+"I don't believe so. If it was Angel Gonzales, he's heading for your
+gentleman friend's place and he'll be in a hurry."
+
+"Why do you go on calling him my gentleman friend?"
+
+"Well, you think he's some kind of a guy, don't you?" demanded Scott, with
+a grin. "Pretty manners, soft voice, nice long eyelashes--all that kind of
+thing?"
+
+"Yes, I do," replied Polly, stoutly. "I like Juan Pachuca and I believe
+he's been led away by bad company. I believe what he told me about that
+treasure, too. I only wish I'd made him tell me the name of the border
+town where it was."
+
+"Women are queer," remarked Scott, with more truth than originality.
+"Well, Polly Street, I think I'll gather the wood for your fire."
+
+Together they gathered the loose twigs and branches--they were not many,
+but eked out with pine cones would make a fire for a few hours, and Scott
+made Polly's bed close by it. He put his rubber poncho on the ground and
+made the girl wrap herself in both blankets.
+
+"I've got a heavy sweater under my coat," he said, "and I'll have to keep
+moving a good deal to look after the horses and keep the fire going." And
+he refused to take a blanket, much to Polly's dismay. "Curl up and be
+comfortable, girlie, and relax. It don't matter if you don't sleep if you
+can relax."
+
+Polly tried to comply, but she was too much interested in what was going
+on around her to give up either to sleep or to relaxation. The crackling
+of the fire and its wonderful odor, the little hushing noises of the birds
+going to rest, the gentle coming up of the moon and the myriads of stars,
+all were too fascinating to risk missing in sleep. Scott had gone after
+the horses and had tethered each by a long rope in a place where feeding
+could be attended to, and had come back to the fire and thrown on some
+more wood. He sat smoking with his feet nearly in the fire and his face
+lit by its glow.
+
+"I suppose you've spent lots of glorious nights in the open?" asked Polly,
+wistfully.
+
+"A good many. Some of them not so glorious, either. One night up in New
+Mexico----" he paused to light another cigarette.
+
+"Go on," demanded the girl. "When you say 'one night up in New Mexico' I
+feel just as I used to when my father used to say 'once upon a time.'"
+
+"Well, I don't know why I happened to think of this special night,"
+grinned Scott, "except that on most of my out-of-door nights I've been by
+myself--out hunting and that kind of thing--and this one I had somebody
+with me. It was when I was mining in Colorado, and some fellows I knew had
+a big cattle ranch down in New Mexico. It was a real ranch--not a two for
+a cent one like Herrick's. I went down to visit them at round-up time. I'd
+never seen a round-up before so I was hanging around every chance I got.
+
+"They had a lot of cattle--some of them pretty wild--and it wasn't easy to
+keep 'em together especially at night. Well, one day Jim Masters got a
+fall from his horse and a kick on the head from another when he was down,
+and he was in a pretty bad state--it looked to us like concussion of the
+brain but we didn't know. We carried him into a tent we'd put up about a
+quarter of a mile from where the cattle were, and one of the boys rode to
+town for a doctor.
+
+"We were up on a mesa, like the one we crossed yesterday, remember? We had
+outlaw cattle in the bunch and it took all the boys to handle them. I,
+being a tenderfoot and not much use with the cattle, said I'd sit with Jim
+and sort of watch him till the doctor came. He was out of his head so
+'twasn't any comfort to him but it made the boys feel better."
+
+"I'll bet it was a comfort to him, Marc Scott! You are the sort of person
+it would be a comfort to have around if one was out of one's head," said
+Polly, emphatically.
+
+"Thank you, honey; I'm afraid you're jollying me. Anyhow, I stayed with
+Jim and while he lay there groaning I sat in the doorway of the tent and
+smoked--wasn't anything I could do for the poor boy. Man, that was a
+night! The mesa just like a big green table spread under the sky--what is
+it that lunger poet said--'under the wide and starry sky'? Well, that's
+how she looked. Mountains all around, moon blazing away showing up the
+cattle at the other end of the mesa, not a sound except the river, one of
+those busy little rivers that keep it up night and day. If I'd known
+something of cattle I wouldn't have thought that stillness was so pretty,
+but I didn't. I hadn't even noticed that the cows had stopped
+bellowing--it seemed like a night that ought to be still.
+
+"When, all of a sudden, I saw a movement in that bunch of cattle. It was a
+stampede. That's what they're cooking up, you know, when they're still
+like that. Before I'd realized what had happened they began to bolt--and
+in our direction. It was just exactly as if one of those old bulls had
+said to the crowd: 'There's a couple of stiffs in a tent down by the
+river, boys, let's rush 'em.'
+
+"They came down that mesa like all heck let loose. The electricity in
+their hides had made a sort of blue haze--phosphorescent, they call
+it--and it gave 'em an awful look. Of course, the boys hadn't let them
+start a stampede without doing anything to stop 'em. They were riding
+round 'em, yelling and shooting into the air, but on they came.
+
+"Well, it was no place for me and Jim. It began to look to me as if that
+doctor was going to have his trip for nothing, but what could I do? I
+couldn't go off and leave Jim, and when I tried to pick him up he fought
+me so I had to drop him. 'Twouldn't have done much good anyhow because
+there was no place to go. So I said to myself: 'Sit tight, old man, and if
+you can't die game, die as game as you can.'
+
+"On they came like a lot of mad things. Then, all at once, when I'd about
+given up hope, the boys got 'em to milling. You know how they do that? Get
+'em started to going round and round instead of straight ahead and the
+fools will go till they drop in their tracks. When I saw 'em doing that I
+knew that Jim and I weren't slated for Heaven that night so I sat still
+and enjoyed the sight.
+
+"It was one wild sight. You can read about stampedes till your head aches
+but you've got to see one to know how she feels."
+
+"What an interesting life you've had, Marc, and all I've done was to drive
+a Red Cross ambulance around Chicago and win a few golf trophies,"
+murmured Polly, sleepily.
+
+"Well, that depends. Perhaps it's been interesting, but it ain't been
+easy."
+
+They sat in silence for a while and then Scott saw that the girl had
+fallen asleep. He smiled as he put more wood on the fire.
+
+"Funny that she and I should find each other out of all the world," he
+meditated. "Just one nice girl and one no-account chap drawn toward each
+other. Some folks call it Fate. I didn't mean to do it and maybe I'm going
+to wish I hadn't--but just now I'm satisfied."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+TOM DOES A MARATHON
+
+
+That Jimmy Adams survived the operation of probing to which he was
+subjected by Li Yow was to Tom Johnson evidence of an almost miraculous
+skill on the part of the Chinese doctor. Tom knew very little of
+operations. His life had been a normal one and the grisly sight which he
+was called upon to witness would have altogether unmanned him had it not
+been for Mrs. Van's timely nip. As it was, he came out of the room
+extremely depressed.
+
+Depression was a mood which in Tom Johnson usually led to action. In this
+case his first move was to visit Cochise. It did not brighten his outlook
+upon life. Cochise was in no state to travel, that was evident. He was
+tired and stiff and his back showed signs of soreness. Rest was
+undoubtedly what his case demanded.
+
+"If you was a society dame, your doctor would send you to Miami for a
+month and say cut out all mental strain," soliloquized the engineer,
+bathing the back gently. "Being as you're a horse, the best we can do is
+to turn you out to pasture for a while. Well, I'm no fancy rider, God
+knows, but nobody can say I ever give a horse a sore back. That blanket
+was pretty nigh off your tail when he brought you in. Any white man would
+have stopped and fixed it."
+
+He sauntered back to his cabin and sat down to think. Tom was tall, over
+six feet, and very thin. His skin was brown and his straight black hair
+which he wore rather long, not because he liked it, but because he
+disliked the Conejo barber, gave him rather an Indian look. His clothes
+hung loosely on him, lending very little to his personal charm, and when
+he sat he usually sat on his spine, a practice deplored by beauty doctors.
+When O'Grady came along a few minutes later, he was deep in thought.
+
+"Say, what do you think of this here business over at Casa Grande?"
+demanded the latter persistently. "Think the Doc's lyin'?"
+
+"Why should he? Besides, he was scared. He most put old Cochise out of
+commission. He saw something all right."
+
+"Think it was Pachuca?"
+
+"No. Why should Pachuca come back after he'd cleaned 'em out once?"
+
+"Yaquis?"
+
+"Might be. And ag'in it might be the rebels."
+
+"Who is the rebels now? Johnny's bunch?" asked O'Grady.
+
+"Search me. I suppose this here state of Sonora is fighting the rest, but
+I don't see that they've got any call to burn an Englishman's property.
+This here Mrs. Conrad's English, too, ain't she?"
+
+"No, she ain't English, she's good plain American, Came from Boston, same
+as Hard," said O'Grady.
+
+"Well, don't an American woman lose her nationality when she marries a
+foreigner?" demanded Tom, wisely.
+
+"She'd ought to if she marries an Englishman," replied O'Grady,
+belligerently. "But don't she get it back if he dies?"
+
+"Hanged if I know! Woman's suffrage has come up since I left home,"
+replied Johnson, placidly. "Anyhow, I'm going to walk to Conejo and see if
+I can't find out something about Casa Grande."
+
+"Walk? Holy Moses! I'll go with you."
+
+"No, you won't. Somebody's got to stay here and look after Mrs. Van and
+Jimmy. The Doc can't fight and Williams don't think of anything but the
+store. You and Miller have got to do the rest."
+
+"Why don't you go to Casa Grande? It's nearer."
+
+"What's the use? What could I do? If I go to Conejo, I can pick up Mendoza
+and his car and mebbe some fellers to go along and make a posse. Of
+course, if they're cleaned out--but I'm figurin' that they ain't."
+
+"Sure. You got to do that," replied O'Grady. "When you goin' to start?"
+
+"Soon as I can get Mrs. Van to put me up some chow."
+
+"Well, good luck to you--and the rest of them. I'd sure hate to think of
+them folks of ours massacred by a bunch of greasers," and O'Grady strolled
+sadly away.
+
+Mrs. Van Zandt was washing dishes when Johnson stopped in with his request
+He prefaced it with an inquiry about the invalid.
+
+"Oh, he's doin' all right, I guess. Doc's give him something to make him
+sleep. I'll say this for the man--he's a good doctor. He means to be a
+doctor while he's here, too. Nothing doing on the cooking job."
+
+"No?"
+
+"No, sir! I asked him something just kind of casual about pies and you'd
+have said he'd never heard of one. Distant as anything! I suppose I can
+stand it if he cures Jimmy. Where you going?"
+
+"Going to walk to Conejo."
+
+"Walk!"
+
+Tom repeated his plan. Mrs. Van wiped her eyes on the dish towel. "You're
+a good man," she said, simply. "I wish I could go with you."
+
+"I ain't feeling as brisk as I'm letting on about this business, Mrs.
+Van," continued Tom. "What that Chink saw don't listen good to me."
+
+"Nor to me. When I think of those girls--well, I ain't going to think of
+them. After all, Tom, there's more ways for folks to get out of trouble
+than there is for them to get in. I've always noticed that. When I was
+married, I had a husband who knew more about getting into trouble than any
+living man, and I used to notice that he always went about it in just the
+same kind of ways--drink, cards, and women; but when I had to get him out
+of it--why, Lord, there were a million different ways I had to manage.
+There are loads of ways for smart folks to dodge trouble and our folks are
+smart."
+
+Johnson started for Conejo about noon. It was not the hour he would have
+selected for a long walk in a warm climate, but he had no choice. He did
+not try to make very rapid progress during the afternoon, his idea being
+to get in his best work at night; so he rested whenever he struck a shady
+spot. A stranger coming along and spying Tom stretched under a tree, with
+his sombrero covering his face, would not have associated him with
+reckless speed. He ate his supper slowly, thanking Heaven for the
+invention of the thermos bottle, and then started for the long pull.
+
+It was cool and delightful now and he felt refreshed and invigorated. His
+bundle was light and he swung along at a good clip. In and out of arroyos,
+over little bridges, under fragrant branches of pine--the walk was
+pleasant and the engineer reflected that one sees a good deal from one's
+feet that one misses from the cab of an engine. Prairie dogs scuttled into
+their holes as he approached and chipmunks sat on branches and swore at
+him in sharp little voices. Now and then a far-away but penetrating odor
+reminded him of another night animal on the prowl.
+
+His wisdom in following the railroad track instead of the road was
+evident. It was longer but it led through the mountains at the lowest
+places. Midnight found him nearly out of the mountains, standing, tired
+but not exhausted, on the edge of a decline, looking over miles of the
+semi-flat country to a dark spot where one or two lights twinkled faintly
+and which he knew was Conejo.
+
+"Old Swartz is still on the job," he reflected, as he rolled himself in
+his blanket and settled down for a nap. He had built a small fire and lay
+with his feet almost in it. He stared ahead of him over the road which he
+must travel before he could reach his destination and though his trip was
+only half made he felt as though he were already there, so encouraging was
+the sight of Swartz' night light.
+
+"It's a great country for them that can stand the pace," he murmured,
+sleepily. "I've a notion sometimes to go back to Omaha and get me a wife
+and settle down out here. Picking a woman these days is a risk, though.
+Get a young one, so's you can educate her, and ten to one you get an
+ambitious young brat that wants to spend all your money seein' life. Pick
+a settled one, a widow woman, say, and you get one that knows more'n you
+do and that don't make for happiness in married life. Mrs. Van Zandt's a
+likely woman but she's had one gold brick--'tain't likely she'd want to
+fall for another. Besides, I can enjoy her cooking and her company without
+bein' married to her, and there's times I like right well to get clear of
+her gab," and so he drifted into sleep, snoring comfortably before his
+fire went out.
+
+It was the middle of the afternoon when Johnson, tall, gaunt and tired,
+stalked into Swartz' store at Conejo where he found a situation for which
+he was not prepared. Conejo was under martial law, and from every doorway
+he saw the interested faces of women and children who stared at the
+soldiers as they went by or stood talking in groups. The jail had a
+military guard while the office of the local _jefe_ swarmed with uniforms.
+Outside stood a motor truck and two large automobiles, quite dwarfing
+Mendoza's Ford, which, having been requisitioned, also stood near by, its
+wrathful owner lurking in the distance keeping an eye on his treasure.
+
+In Swartz' store the fat owner was still in his accustomed seat, while the
+usual loafers still persistently loafed, but there were soldiers
+everywhere.
+
+"Whew, this is something new for Conejo!" whistled Tom. "I reckon I'd
+better have a word with Dutch before I horn in. Say, Swartz," he said,
+pushing a crowd of youngsters out of the way, "got anything to drink? I've
+just walked in from Athens."
+
+"My Gott, are you mad?" inquired Swartz, pleasantly.
+
+"Not yet, but I'm likely to be if I don't get something down my gullet.
+Got any beer?"
+
+"Beer?" Swartz' contempt was sweeping. "Look at dem," pointing to the
+soldiers. "Doos that look like I haf any beer mit dem fellers around?"
+
+"Who are they? Federals or Rebs?"
+
+"De State troops. Don't you know dis here state has--what you call
+it--seceded?"
+
+"Martial law, eh?"
+
+Swartz nodded.
+
+"Did they grab your stuff or did they pay for it?"
+
+"Oh, dey pays--in paper money," replied the German, sourly.
+
+"Well, you're better off than we are. They took our stuff, shot two of the
+boys, knifed another, and blew up our track."
+
+"Who done it?"
+
+"Young Pachuca and his crowd. Say, who's the boss of this outfit?"
+
+Swartz opined that Colonel d'Anguerra, who was lodged in the house of the
+local _jefe_, was in command.
+
+"Good-natured kind of a guy, is he?" queried Tom, anxiously. "Or one of
+the kind that orders out the firing squad if his dinner don't set well on
+him?"
+
+Swartz had seen better natured men than the Colonel, but on the other hand
+admitted that he had seen worse. "He iss a young man," he said, "and he
+ain't got so much sense that it bothers him, yet he tries to keep them
+devils quiet if he can."
+
+"Well, give me a drink of water if you ain't got no beer. I guess I'll
+look this feller up."
+
+"I got some lemon pop," offered Swartz, hospitably. "Them fellers don't
+like it; it ain't got poison enough in it for 'em."
+
+Johnson, having drunk the pop, departed for the official residence. It
+took some time and a good deal of diplomacy to get an audience with the
+military chief, but it was accomplished at last. D'Anguerra was a youngish
+man, tall, thin and sallow. He spoke very little English, but his
+secretary spoke it very well and acted as interpreter, Tom's Spanish being
+several degrees worse than the Colonel's English. The conversation in two
+tongues proceeded through the secretary with dispatch and accuracy.
+
+"I understand that you are from an American mining company located at
+Athens?" the Colonel began.
+
+"I am," replied Tom, a little awed by the other's dignity and the
+threefold nature of the dialogue.
+
+"You have been raided by bandits, eh?"
+
+"Well, I suppose you'd call it that. Juan Pachuca helped himself to what
+he wanted and shot two of our boys."
+
+"Killed them?"
+
+"No, they ain't killed, but one of 'em's likely to lose a leg. He knifed
+one, but the knife was dull and he ain't hurt much. But that ain't what I
+come over here about." And Tom went on with Li Yow's story of the Casa
+Grande raid, the arrival of Scott, Hard and Polly, and the fire. "I dunno
+and he dunno who done the burnin' or what else has happened over there,
+but he says they heard Pachuca say somethin' about meeting Angel Gonzales,
+and I guess you know who he is. I thought mebbe you could let me have a
+car and a posse and I could go over and see what's been done."
+
+The Colonel and his secretary conversed together for a few moments, Tom
+listening anxiously but quite unable to get the thread of the talk.
+
+"You see, Colonel," he continued, anxiously, "I dunno if this little
+revolution of yours is going to turn out the real thing or not; but
+there's one thing you can be darn sure of if it does, and that is that one
+of the first letters your new president's going to get in his official
+mail is going to be a bill of damages from Washington and whatever's
+happened to our folks is going to be wrote down in it."
+
+Colonel d'Anguerra smiled patiently. "I will tell you, senor, what I know
+about the affair at Casa Grande. According to this dispatch, a regiment of
+Sonora troops passed by the ranch on their way south. They saw flames and
+heard shots. A band of Yaquis who had been driven from their village by
+one Angel Gonzales were burning and looting. The troops' orders were for
+haste and they did not stop to find out the extent of the damage but
+called off the Yaquis. You perhaps know that those Indians are excellent
+soldiers and that there are many of them in our army."
+
+"You mean to say they didn't go over to see if anything had happened to
+the women folks?" demanded Tom, aghast.
+
+"Their orders were positive. They could not take the time. To-day we have
+news that some of our troops have crossed the Sinaloa border. These men
+who passed Casa Grande were on their way to Hermosillo to guard the
+capital."
+
+"Well, it does look like you were pulling it off, don't it?" Tom's voice
+was admiring in spite of himself. "What beats me, senor, is how you manage
+to pump enough enthusiasm into these fellers to keep them fighting. You've
+been at it nearly ten years now. In my country we'd either have put it
+through by that time or given it up as a bad job and pretended we'd never
+wanted it anyhow."
+
+The Mexican laughed. "My friend," he said, seriously, "people will fight
+for more than ten years with the hope of liberty and a good government
+ahead of them. This time we hope to get both."
+
+"Well, I hope you do. It's too good a country to go to the dogs. But about
+this Juan Pachuca----"
+
+"He is no business of mine," replied the Colonel, briefly. "He was out of
+favor with the Carranza government and evidently hopes to get into the
+saddle again through the revolution. Personally, I do not believe he will.
+General Obregon is not fond of his type. Angel Gonzales is what you call
+in your country a regular bad lot. I have orders in this dispatch to look
+into his case. As to the automobile. I can give you an order for the car
+which you saw outside--the small one. I can't spare any men."
+
+"Mendoza's Ford?" groaned Tom. "I knew I'd draw that. Well, never mind,
+senor. I'm obliged to you just the same."
+
+The order written, Mendoza was induced to start. "What the devil are those
+for?" demanded Johnson, as he saw the old Mexican putting three large cans
+in the car.
+
+"Water," replied Mendoza, tersely. "Las' time I drive him ze radiator he
+leak. I mend him, but _quien sabe_? We play safe, eh?"
+
+"My God, yes," murmured Tom. "Come on, _amigo_, it's near six and this
+here's no country to be rattlin' round in a damaged Ford after dark."
+
+The little car justified its owner's faith in it, however, for it went
+along at a good clip. The road from Conejo was fairly good and they made
+good time. The sun was down and the evening had set when they reached the
+place where Scott and Polly had taken the trail. Mendoza stopped the car.
+
+"Lots of men been by here," he said. "Soldiers or bandits--mebbe bot'."
+
+"What d'ye mean?" demanded Tom, waking up. "How can you tell?"
+
+"Don' have to be Injun to know dat. See tracks," grunted Mendoza. "Mebbe
+hundred men come here from trail, _amigo_."
+
+Tom looked. The banks of the river were broken and trodden by the feet of
+many horses. Even in the dim light he could see that, though he would
+never have noticed it for himself. He admitted when Mendoza persisted that
+it did look as though a large party of horsemen had crossed the river.
+
+"Well, they've passed anyhow, so we should worry. Got a gun?"
+
+"_Si_," grinned Mendoza, cheerfully, "I always got a gun."
+
+"Hold on, what's this?" They had come around the corner and saw, by the
+edge of the road, the wrecked wagon. "That's Herrick's wagon," said Tom,
+excitedly. "In the ditch!" He got down and went to investigate.
+
+"Wheel's busted. Horses must have got scared and bolted round the curve,"
+said the engineer, meditatively. "Nothin' in the wagon. Looks bad to me;
+don't it to you, Mendoza?"
+
+"_Si_," responded Mendoza. "We go by Soria's place. He know mebbe what
+happen."
+
+"All right," assented Tom, sadly. "If they'd got away on the horses seems
+to me we'd have seen or heard somethin' of them on the road. Unless they
+went by the trail--in that case them fellers on horseback would have met
+'em. Well, step on your gas, Mendoza, and let's get to Soria's."
+
+Soria's place was empty. Not a child, nor a dog, nor a burro. Not a sign
+of life on the place anywhere. This was a blow and intensified Tom's
+gloomy fears. He did not speak as they drove on to Casa Grande. The moon
+was coming up and they saw the badly burned ruins of the barn as they
+turned in.
+
+"Ze house is lef'," said Mendoza, consolingly.
+
+"Yes, it is," said Tom. "But look at them windows! Riddled with bullets.
+The boys must have put up a good fight with them Indians, anyhow. Tell you
+what, Mendoza, I'd give a good deal to see old Scotty's ugly mug in one of
+'em! Come on, we may as well go in," and he stepped apprehensively out of
+the car.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+AT SORIA'S
+
+
+Hard and Mrs. Conrad stared at each other in whimsical dismay as the other
+couple rode away. Then they looked at the suitcases carefully tucked away
+in the brush.
+
+"Not much of a hiding place," observed Hard, "but it's better than leaving
+them in the wagon."
+
+"And decidedly better than carrying them all the way to Soria's," replied
+Clara. "Safe enough, too. It isn't once in a coon's age that anybody
+travels around these places. Funny, isn't it, when you think of all the
+crowded spots there are in the world?"
+
+"It reminds me," said Hard, with a reminiscent chuckle, "of a yarn. I was
+in New Mexico on a hunting trip with Joe McArthur--you remember the Boston
+McArthurs who had a ranch near one of the Apache reservations? Well, we
+rode up to the agency store to ask old Slade, the trader, about an Indian
+guide.
+
+"We got him and started out the next day. We were riding up among the
+pines--great tall fellows, a regular park of them; not a living thing in
+sight except the birds, not a sound except the river. McArthur and I were
+riding behind Charley, the guide. We'd been arguing rather aimlessly as to
+whether an Indian had a sense of humor or not; Joe thought they hadn't,
+while I contended that they had.
+
+"The quiet of the place rather got us. McArthur took a silver dollar from
+his pocket and said: 'Hard, I believe I could lay this dollar on that
+stump over there and come back here in a year and find it there.' Old
+Charley turned around, his wrinkled face twisted into a grin. 'No,' he
+said, 'no find him nex' year. Mr. Slade he get him nex' morning.'
+
+"Well, Charley got the dollar and McArthur admitted that I had the right
+of the argument."
+
+"That sounds to me just like a McArthur of Boston," said Clara, severely.
+"An Indian without a sense of humor! Just because they don't see fit to
+howl over the fool things a white man howls over, I suppose." She did not
+speak again for some time, then she burst out tempestuously:
+
+"Henry, why did you begin talking about Boston? Do you know, I've been
+more lonesome for the dear old place in the last twenty-four hours than
+ever before? I wonder if seeing you has made me homesick?"
+
+"I hope so," said Hard. "It's time for you to go back to Boston, Clara."
+
+"Perhaps; but I shall come back here. Once this country gets on its feet I
+can sell for a decent price. There's going to be a rush to Mexico some day
+when people find that they can come without risking their lives and their
+money."
+
+"Do you think that time is coming soon?"
+
+"I hope it is. This last move looks hopeful. If Obregon can establish a
+good government, he will. Of course, our people will have to be patient.
+At any rate, I'm going to risk it."
+
+"Yes," smiled Hard, "you would feel that way, of course."
+
+"Money getting isn't such an ugly business, Henry, when you risk
+something. It puts a bit of romance into the thing. I think I rather
+despise people who make money just by sitting in an office and guessing
+right."
+
+"Clara, how old are you? Sixteen?"
+
+"I don't mind telling you that I'm older than I look, and it's a wonder to
+me after the hard knocks I've had. Well, do you think you can hobble back
+to Soria's?"
+
+"Let's wait a little longer. I could wish it a little cooler."
+
+"If you'd wear a sombrero instead of that white thing----"
+
+"Can't. I'm not built for a sombrero. Makes me look like the villain in a
+show."
+
+Clara burst into laughter.
+
+"Henry," she said, "what an absurd world this is once a human being cuts
+loose from his original moorings!"
+
+"Yes? It's an almighty hot world when he cuts loose from a roof and an
+ice-water tank, I've noticed."
+
+"I'm not thinking of ordinary things--I'm thinking of you and me and
+Boston," pursued Clara, firmly.
+
+"Clara, I can stand a good deal, especially from you, but if you insist
+upon talking about Boston I'm likely to do something that we'll both
+regret."
+
+"I was just thinking that if you and I had stayed in Boston, in our own
+little niches, as our kind of people usually do, what would we be doing?"
+went on Clara, meditatively.
+
+"I would be having a gin fizz at the club," said Hard, pensively, "to be
+followed possibly by a game of bridge and a dinner--a real, human dinner,
+not just food--at my brother John's."
+
+"If I had stayed where I belonged, or where everybody said I belonged when
+my father died and the family income disappeared," said Clara,
+persistently, "I would be teaching music in a girls' school, and planning
+a trip to Italy with a lot of other middle-aged spinsters. Instead of
+that, I put all that I had into a two years' study in London and Paris and
+fell in with a wandering Englishman, married him, and here I am."
+
+"Well, I'm glad you didn't stay where you belonged, Clara, for quite apart
+from the pleasure of your company, which under sane conditions I find very
+delightful, I don't seem to see you in the role of a middle-aged spinster.
+Still, you might easily have been one. I know some charming girls in
+Boston who have gone that path."
+
+"So do I," soberly. "Some of them so much more charming than some of my
+married friends that I don't quite get the idea. Some of Nature's
+blunders, I suppose. Well, shall we start?"
+
+"We'd better. I think it's going to be some walk."
+
+They plodded along in silence. This time Hard broke it.
+
+"Clara, do you think that youngster is good enough for Marc Scott? You're
+clever enough to judge people even on a short acquaintance."
+
+"Heavens, Henry, what a question!"
+
+"I admit it's crude. Theoretically, any nice girl confers a tremendous
+favor on the man she marries merely by so doing; man being inherently
+vile. But, Clara, honestly, man to man, how many nice girls one knows who
+would be the deuce to live with!"
+
+Clara's eyes twinkled. "Henry," she said, "you're perfectly right, of
+course, but man to man, do you think you've any right to assume that the
+ones who aren't nice are any pleasanter--taken as a steady diet?"
+
+"Well, no, if you put it like that. But, I mean--well--this Polly
+youngster, of whom by the way I am very fond, I don't know why, she's as
+spoiled as the deuce, has had very little education----"
+
+"She graduated from Wellesley, so she tells me."
+
+"Truly? How well they cover it up these days! In my youth, you knew when a
+woman was well educated."
+
+"And avoided her. That's why they learned to cover it up."
+
+"Don't be trivial. What I mean is this. Scott is an unusual fellow. He's
+brought himself up from nothing, with only a boost here and there from
+someone who recognized his worth. He's rough and he's odd, but he has a
+mind. He will always be a man of importance in his community."
+
+"I admit all that; but it doesn't imply that he's too good for Polly."
+
+"No, but after all, what does a spoiled society girl of twenty-four know
+about a worth-while man, anyhow?"
+
+"Oh, my dear Henry, wake up! You aren't living in the Victorian period.
+She knows a lot more about everything than you think, and well for her
+that she does. Girls of to-day may be daring, they may be over confident,
+they may be hard, but at least they know something of the world outside
+their own environment. After all, life's a tricky job for a woman--don't
+begrudge her a little folly before she undertakes it."
+
+"I don't. I like frivolous girls--in a way; but I don't like to see a man
+with a brain marrying a kitten."
+
+"Polly Street isn't a kitten. She's never had to consider anything more
+serious than a golf course, but she'll make good when the time comes.
+She's shown that since she's been here. But, Henry, why this sudden
+interest in match-making? Has he, by any chance, asked your valuable
+advice?"
+
+"Good Heavens, no!"
+
+"Match-making, you know, belongs to middle age. Young people are too
+self-centred to bother with it. I wonder if we're nearly there? I'm
+dead."
+
+"Well, my aching feet tell me we are, Clara, but my manly intelligence
+suggests that if we've covered one-third of the distance we're mighty
+lucky."
+
+"That's about what I thought," groaned Clara. "How's your knee?"
+
+"Peevish but possible. Shall we take a rest?"
+
+"Oh dear, yes, and a bite."
+
+They topped the next rise. It was decidedly a rise and commanded a wide
+view of the flat part of the country. At a little distance rose a live oak
+whose low branches offered a slight shelter from the sun. A cooling breeze
+played about them, kicking up spirals of sand, and a prairie-dog village
+manifested eager interest in their presence. They ate their sandwiches and
+Hard returned to the subject of Scott and Polly.
+
+"Do you think--you being a woman and acute in such matters--that he's
+asked her yet?" he said.
+
+"No, I don't; they both look too edgy. He's going to, however, and she's
+going to take him, I think. I'm not sure. She may be flirting."
+
+"If she flirts with Scott, I'll have her punished," declared Hard,
+indignantly.
+
+"Well, maybe she won't. She's a bit of a minx, though, and while she's
+young she's no infant. Some girls have to do the world's flirting, Henry,
+because the others won't--or can't. It wouldn't do to have things made too
+easy for you."
+
+"They are not," said Hard, with meaning.
+
+"Well, this isn't getting to Soria's." Clara rose hastily. She looked back
+over the road. "It looks like people back there--dust flying. Do you
+suppose it's more troops?"
+
+Hard stared. "No," he said, finally, "it's only the wind."
+
+"Yes, I guess it is," assented Clara. "Let's be moving."
+
+It was slow going--a lame man and a tired woman--both unused to walking
+even under favorable circumstances. It seemed to Clara Conrad as she
+looked ahead at the wearisome stretch of road, as though they made no more
+progress than a couple of ants crawling up a mountainside.
+
+"Do you think we'll ever make it?" she said, stopping for a long breath at
+the top of a small rise.
+
+"We've got to," said Hard, simply, "What else is there to do?"
+
+Clara did not answer but looked longingly back toward the spot in the
+cottonwoods.
+
+"Don't play Lot's wife, Clara; keep on looking forward. It's our only
+hope."
+
+"Lot's wife always appealed to my sympathies," said Clara, pensively. "I
+think she was probably a settled sort of a woman, married to one of these
+men who like change. It must have irritated her awfully to have to pack up
+and move when she was so comfortable. Oh, Henry, that's not wind blowing
+the dust! It's men--horsemen!"
+
+"It does look like it."
+
+"They're coming this way. I don't like it."
+
+"Neither do I." Hard's voice was anxious. "If we had a bit of
+shelter----"
+
+They looked anxiously about, but the flatness of the country offered no
+opportunity for anything larger than a gopher to hide. Trees and bushes,
+alike too small for shelter, and little rises of land, hard enough to
+climb but easily visible to anyone on horseback, were all that offered
+themselves. In the distance an arroyo looked promising, but it was far and
+the line of riders very near.
+
+"We've got to make a break for it, anyhow," said Hard, at last. "It's off
+the road. It's our only chance; that, and the possibility that they may be
+troops and in too much of a hurry to stop for the likes of us. Come on."
+
+Clara sighed and quickened her pace. They left the road and struck across
+country toward the arroyo.
+
+"I don't believe they're troops," she said. "There aren't enough of them.
+Oh, Henry, suppose it's Angel Gonzales and his men!"
+
+Hard shrugged his shoulders. "They may very well be," he said. "But we'll
+hope they're not. Let's be optimistic as long as we have a straw to
+clutch."
+
+Clara did not answer. She took another look at the rapidly advancing line
+and felt, not unreasonably, that the straw was a weak one even for the
+clutch of an optimist. They dug in, weary as they were, making small
+progress, but with hopeful eyes bent upon the distant arroyo. At least
+they were going in a different direction from the riders. Hard limped
+painfully. His face was set in lines of determination--or was it pain?
+Clara wondered. She stopped suddenly.
+
+"Henry," she said, firmly, "this is folly. Those men must have seen us.
+They're able to overtake us if they want to, and if they want to do
+anything to us, they will. We can't help ourselves. I'm not going another
+step. I'm going to sit down here and see what happens." As she spoke, she
+sat down on a tree stump. Hard laughed ruefully.
+
+"Well, I suppose you're right," he said. "They've got us, if they want us.
+We'll hope they don't." He sat down on the ground beside her, feeling very
+much as though he would never get up again.
+
+So far the horsemen had given no indication of having seen the fugitives.
+They were fox-trotting along, in twos and threes, for the road was fairly
+wide. There was no air of discipline about the party, nothing to indicate
+that it was of a military character. As they came opposite the fugitives,
+who had struck off the road at a right angle, they stopped, in obedience
+to a signal from one of the two riding ahead.
+
+"They've seen us!" breathed Clara.
+
+"And are wondering whether we're worth while," supplemented Hard. "Ah,
+here they come!"
+
+The result of the conference reached, the two leaders of the party
+followed by half a dozen men struck off toward Clara and Hard. The others
+waited in the road. They came at a good gait, their badly fed horses
+responding to the ugly spur with a nervous speed which covered the hilly
+space in seconds where Hard and Clara had taken minutes to crawl.
+
+"I'm afraid they're not troops," observed Hard. "They wouldn't take all
+that trouble for a pair of strangers. It's Angel, or someone of his sort.
+Well?"
+
+"Well?" Clara smiled bravely. "There's nothing to do but wait. Better let
+me talk to them; I have the language better in hand, I think. If it's
+money they want we may as well give them what we have to buy our
+freedom."
+
+"By all means." Hard grinned. "I've got ten dollars. It won't buy
+much--even of freedom, I'm afraid."
+
+"Most of mine is in express checks, tucked away in a sheltered spot," said
+Clara, frowning. "I don't believe they'd want them--Pachuca didn't.
+However, I have a little to offer." She handed him her handbag.
+
+Angel Gonzales, closely followed by Porfirio Cortes, drew up beside the
+odd-looking couple sitting by the wayside. The other men lingered within
+hearing. Angel opened the conversation in his native tongue.
+
+"Who are you and where are you going?" he demanded, his shifty black eyes
+gleaming from his weather-beaten face.
+
+"And why?" growled Cortes. "When the country is upset, the place for
+foreigners is at home."
+
+"Yes, we know it is," said Clara, placatingly. "But your country, you
+know, is almost always upset. This gentleman, Senor Hard, is connected
+with the mining company at Athens. I am from the South, and on my way to
+the border."
+
+"Where are your horses?" said Angel, suspiciously.
+
+"A young man named Juan Pachuca raided the ranch where we were visiting
+and took all the livestock," replied Clara, eyeing the swarthy fellow
+quietly.
+
+There was a hurried colloquy between the two Mexicans and a laugh from
+Gonzales.
+
+"You are not going toward Athens," he observed, drily.
+
+"No, we're not," replied Hard. "We're heading for the Soria place just at
+present with the idea of borrowing their burro to ride and tie." He had
+risen and was leaning heavily on his well leg.
+
+"Humph! It is a long walk to the Soria place," grunted Angel. "You're
+lame?"
+
+"Yes, temporarily."
+
+"Humph!" Angel turned to his men. "Here, two of you double up and give
+these people horses," he commanded curtly. Apparently, he was one of those
+leaders whose word is law, for two of the men rolled their horses and led
+them toward the two Americans who stared at them in astonishment.
+
+"We go by Soria's," said Angel, gruffly. "We will take you that far."
+
+"Thank you, but I think----" Clara began weakly, but stopped as she felt
+herself being seized by one of the men and lifted roughly to the saddle of
+a wiry little gray horse which was dancing around in a most disconcerting
+manner. It was a time for self-preservation and not for protest. She
+grasped the pommel desperately with one hand and the reins with the other,
+while her feet were being thrust into the straps of the stirrups--the
+stirrups themselves being too long.
+
+She was badly scared, for the horse gave every indication of being
+unmanageable; and very miserable, for her skirt pulled in a most
+uncomfortable and unsightly fashion. There was nothing to do, however, but
+to make the best of it; for having helped her mount, the man who did so
+climbed up back of one of his fellows and abandoned her to her fate. Hard,
+in the meantime, had mounted another rough-looking but more conventionally
+disposed beast, and the procession started back to the road, the two
+Americans side by side, surrounded by the Mexicans; Angel Gonzales
+leading, and Porfirio Cortes bringing up the rear.
+
+"It may be a friendly lift, but it looks more like a case of abduction,"
+said Hard, wrathfully. "Can you hold that brute, Clara?"
+
+"I hope so," she said, her lips a bit white. "I think the poor thing is as
+scared as I am; probably never saw skirts before in his life."
+
+"Don't try to hold him too tight. He's probably got a tender mouth,
+judging from the way he fidgets."
+
+"Well, I suppose he has, but if I don't hold him, he's going to land me
+over somewhere in those foothills," said Clara, faintly. "He's got the
+most awful little rack I ever rode. Henry, do you suppose that fellow is
+Angel Gonzales?"
+
+"Can't say. He's an ugly-looking ruffian whoever he is."
+
+"Hush, here he comes! He may understand English," shivered Clara.
+
+Angel grinned as he came back to them. "The senorita does not ride very
+well," he said, mockingly. Clara did not reply.
+
+"I suppose," she reflected, with a gleam of humor, "that I ought to be
+grateful to be taken for a 'senorita,' but how can I be grateful for
+anything when I'm being rattled to pieces?"
+
+Angel joined himself to them and they rode three abreast. He began to ask
+questions; questions which plainly were designed to inform him as to the
+financial standing of his guests or his prisoners whichever he chose to
+make them.
+
+"He's as persistent as a society reporter," growled Hard, under his
+breath, as Angel relinquished his place to one of his men and fell back to
+ride with Cortes. "It's a case of ransom, all right."
+
+"Shall we make a break for it?" whispered Clara. "If I let this thing go
+he'll be over in the foothills before you can whistle."
+
+"No, they'd shoot. Better not risk it."
+
+"But, Henry, I can't stand it! And I look so! I never was so altogether
+wretched in all my life," groaned Clara.
+
+"Be patient, that's a good girl, until we see what they're going to do."
+
+"If that devil's face is any index to his character, he's going to do
+something awful."
+
+Angel Gonzales, in fact, was justifying Clara's opinion of him.
+
+"The woman has money and property, and so, I think, has he," he said to
+Cortes. "If they have money, they have friends, and friends will pay,
+eh?"
+
+"Sometimes," admitted Cortes. "But we are in a hurry, _amigo_. If Pachuca
+has come this far, he means business. We had better be on our way to meet
+him."
+
+"Yes, that's so. Our horses are not strong enough to carry double, either.
+We'll leave the Americanos with Manuel Soria and pay him to keep them for
+a few days until we know what we want to do with them, eh?"
+
+"Not bad," agreed Cortes. "Manuel is a good deal of a fool but his woman
+is smart. Give her a gun and she will know how to use it. She will do it
+for me because I make love to her now and then," he added, with something
+which in a civilized being would pass for a simper.
+
+"Humph, she'd do it for me because I'll pay her some good money and
+promise her more," said the unsympathetic Gonzales.
+
+By this time they had reached the Soria cabin, much to Clara's relief, and
+the party dismounted. The cabin door was closed, and Angel, who evidently
+wasted no time on the little courtesies of life, raised his pistol and
+fired into it. Clara caught her breath in horror.
+
+"Those babies!" she gasped, clutching Hard.
+
+"I don't believe they're in there," he whispered. "I don't see a sign of
+life--not even the burro."
+
+"Henry, they've gone to town to spend the money that Mr. Scott gave them
+this morning!"
+
+"That's it. They've taken the burro along to bring home the supplies.
+Don't say anything; let them find it out. It's not our funeral."
+
+It was soon apparent that the Soria family had gone--root and branch.
+There was no response either to Angel's rude salutation or to the search
+which followed.
+
+"They're in a hole," chuckled Hard, shrewdly. "I'll bet you a dollar that
+they meant to leave us here and pay the Sorias to hold us. Now, they've
+either got to take us along or leave a guard for us, which is what they'll
+probably do."
+
+"You don't think there's any chance of his letting us go?"
+
+"Does he look like a chap who lets anything get away from him? Well, I'm
+glad he's worried, anyhow."
+
+Angel Gonzales was worried, no mistake about that. The Sorias had upset
+his plans exceedingly. He did not want to burden himself with prisoners;
+his horses, fed only on the scant growth of the land, were in no condition
+to carry double. He did not want to leave any of his men behind, because
+he expected to need every one of them in his proposed campaign. On the
+other hand, he hated to give up the dazzling prospect of a ransom. He had
+never played the ransom game, but he knew the ropes and he longed to try.
+
+"Who's that coming up the road?" demanded Cortes, breaking off a dialogue
+with his chief.
+
+A man--or, as it developed at closer range--a boy, a very ragged boy,
+riding a sweating horse, was tearing madly in their direction. Boylike, he
+pulled his poor beast to its haunches and gave what was intended for a
+military salute as he saw the redoubtable Gonzales.
+
+"Well, what's the matter? Who are you?" demanded that gentleman,
+unencouragingly.
+
+"Senor Juan Pachuca----" gasped the panting messenger, "he sends me to say
+to Captain Gonzales to make speed. He waits--at his _rancho_. He has news
+of the revolution," finished the boy, proudly.
+
+"News! Humph, is that all he's got?" demanded Angel, promptly.
+
+"Men, and horses and plunder--oh, much plunder!" The boy's eyes shone.
+
+"So? That's better, eh, Cortes? Shall we go, or----"
+
+"Senor Pachuca says to make speed. Much speed," reiterated the messenger.
+"The troops went South only last night."
+
+"We had better go," said Cortes, eagerly. "We can make the _rancho_ with
+hard riding by morning. That is, unless you burden yourself with those!"
+he gestured scornfully toward the two Americans.
+
+Angel hesitated. Like Scott, he hated changing his mind. Also, the ransom
+loomed large; and he liked the woman's looks--liked her manner of talk.
+With her dark hair and eyes, and her soft voice, she was like one of his
+own people----only much more charming, he reflected, with a gleam of the
+eye.
+
+"Senor Pachuca says----"
+
+"The devil with Senor Pachuca!" exploded Angel, menacingly. "Go back and
+tell him----" But the messenger had already gone. His horse's feet were
+pattering down the side of the hill at a rate which argued panic in its
+rider. A laugh rose from the men, and Angel, guffawing himself, sent a
+parting bullet over the boy's head.
+
+"Cheerful man, isn't he?" muttered Hard. "Never mind, Clara, he didn't hit
+the boy. It's evidently only his little joke."
+
+"Monster!" Clara's black eyes snapped.
+
+Apparently the little joke had cleared Angel's mental atmosphere, for
+without further explanation, he turned and with a rough: "Get on your
+horses--we'll go!" swung onto his mount. Cortes, with a grin of relief,
+passed the word on:
+
+"To horse!" And in a second the party was mounted. Hard and Clara stood
+watching, ignorant of what part they were to play in this new move. No
+attempt was made to mount them, which was in itself encouraging, nor did
+there seem to have been anyone detailed to stay and guard them. There was
+another confab between Gonzales and Cortes, which resulted in the latter's
+coming toward the two Americans and saying, gruffly:
+
+"Captain Gonzales regrets that he cannot escort you further but he is
+called suddenly to the front." There was a pause, then, with an impudent
+grin, he continued, "Of course you know that in time of war, all alien
+property is confiscate? You will give me what money you have."
+
+"Oh, yes, give it to him, Henry, please!" Clara's voice was eager. She
+pressed her little handbag into Cortes' willing hand. Hard shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+"All right, old man, it's not much, and if I thought you'd buy a good feed
+for those horses of yours, I'd hand it over with my blessing. As it is--I
+hand it over."
+
+Cortes took the money very much as a conductor collects his fares----with
+no comment but a ready hand. He also took a diamond ring which Clara had
+thoughtlessly put in the bag for safe keeping and the watch which Hard
+carried. Then without further words, he swung his horse around and at a
+command from Gonzales, the whole crowd swept furiously down the hill.
+
+"Henry, they've gone! Actually gone--and taken that vile gray horse with
+them!" gasped Clara, faintly.
+
+"It looks like it," responded Hard. "But unless I'm a lot mistaken, they
+didn't mean to go until that boy came with his message."
+
+"Well, blessings on the head of Juan Pachuca who sent him!" murmured
+Clara, wearily, as she started for the cabin.
+
+"Do you want to stay outside or go in?" asked Hard, pulling a chair
+forward on the veranda.
+
+"Outside, please, as long as we can stand it," said Clara, with a little
+shiver. "I don't believe I'd care for Grandmother Soria's housekeeping."
+She peeped into the family _olla_ hanging on the side of the house. It was
+full. "Oh, well, Henry, things might have been worse," she smiled as she
+sank into the chair.
+
+"You can bet your dear life they might," replied Henry, with a glance in
+the direction taken by Angel Gonzales.
+
+"See if they've left anything to eat--anything that looks fairly clean."
+
+Hard emerged a few moments later empty-handed.
+
+"Not a thing," he said. "We evidently arrived at the psychological moment
+for this little family. That ten dollars Scott gave them will tide them
+over till Carlotta finds another beau."
+
+"But wasn't there anything to eat?"
+
+"Not a bone. Mother Hubbard's cupboard was a cafeteria compared to
+Grandmother Soria's. Draw in your belt and forget it."
+
+"Why did we eat so much this afternoon? They left us the biggest part of
+the luncheon. Henry, we are pigs," moaned Clara, wanly.
+
+"I know. We're not the sort to be cast on a desert isle, I'm afraid. If
+the Sorias get back to-night----"
+
+"They won't. They'll stay and make a night of it."
+
+"Perhaps the hungry feeling will wear off after a while," said Hard,
+hopefully.
+
+"I wonder? I've often thought I'd like to try a fast. One hears of people
+doing it and having such odd and fascinating sensations," said Clara,
+thoughtfully.
+
+"My sensations are odd," replied Hard, "but they are distinctly not
+fascinating."
+
+They sat quietly for a while, watching the clouds hovering over the
+mountains, sometimes over the peaks, sometimes nestling in fleecy patches
+half-way up.
+
+"The trail they took crosses about where that gap in the mountains is,"
+said Clara. "Under that first cloud, so Mr. Scott said."
+
+"Pretty high."
+
+"Yes, they'll have to do some climbing." Clara sighed softly. Hard felt an
+unreasonable desire, almost an angry desire to take her in his arms. It
+was a feeling unlike him, usually so moderate in his emotions.
+
+"Clara," he said, softly, "were you thinking of him when you sighed?"
+
+Clara started. "Him!" she echoed, helplessly.
+
+"Yes, Dick Conrad."
+
+"Not exactly, Henry. I was thinking of that terrible trip we took through
+the mountains--yes, I was in a way thinking of Dick."
+
+"You were very happy together, weren't you? You were awfully in love with
+him, I mean. I'm not being impertinent, am I, Clara? You know I don't
+intend to be."
+
+"No, Henry, I understand. I don't believe I'm the kind of woman who falls
+in love--at least, in the way most people mean. There's nothing very
+violent about me except once in a while when I get to singing something
+which takes hold of me pretty hard.
+
+"Richard and I had a rather exciting little love affair, then after a
+while we both began to realize that we weren't very romantic--in regard to
+people. He was passionately devoted to adventure of every kind, and I had
+a way of putting my best into music. I didn't feel heart-broken when I
+found out that we really weren't anything more than good friends and
+neither did he.
+
+"I'd cheerfully give all I've got to bring Dick back; I get lonesome for
+him--awfully. And yet, that isn't exactly the sort of thing that the
+average person means by 'love,' is it?"
+
+"It would have made me very happy once to know that you cared that much
+for me," answered Hard, bitterly.
+
+"I did. I always did, Henry. Only we were--so near, so much a part of each
+other--like cousins. I called it friendship instead of love," cried Clara,
+warmly.
+
+"What difference does it make what you call it? Two people like to be
+together, seem to fit into one another's lives, isn't that love?"
+
+Clara smiled. "It's not the kind of love that Polly Street will give the
+man she marries," she said. "You know that as well as I. And it's not a
+matter of years, it's temperament. An actress told me once that when it
+came to a question of comparison between her married life and her stage
+life, she could say instantly that it was her stage life that had meant
+the most to her. She was happily married, too. I'm a bit like her. I can
+get more downright exaltation over my music when it goes right than I ever
+got out of any love affair. I think my talent is for friendship rather
+than for love."
+
+"Clara," Hard's voice shook, "I tell you, you wrong yourself. Neither you
+nor that woman were happily married if--oh, I don't want to be
+maudlin----"
+
+"Bless your heart, Henry, you couldn't be, any more than I could. Perhaps
+it's the New England conscience----"
+
+"I haven't a New England conscience," replied Hard. "My conscience is as
+elastic and pleasantly disposed as an Irishman's. Bunker Hill casts no
+blight upon me."
+
+"Henry, this is all very nice; but I'm dying of hunger."
+
+"Will you be afraid to stay here if I go back to Casa Grande and fetch you
+something?"
+
+"Wild horses couldn't hold me in this God-forsaken spot without you,
+Henry! Don't think of it. I--I'll go with you, though."
+
+"You can't walk it."
+
+"Then I'll die on the road. But how about your knee?" She stopped in
+discouragement.
+
+"What's a knee or two when you're starving to death?" demanded Hard, with
+decision. "Come on, let's start before I get any stiffer."
+
+They started out again, through the half darkness; walking slowly, for
+Hard limped painfully. He had helped himself to a stout staff which he
+found on the Soria veranda and which gave him some assistance. They were
+very silent; Hard, because his mind was still running on Clara's words,
+Clara, because she was honestly puzzled over the situation, and her own
+feelings.
+
+She watched the tall, thin figure, limping along by her side, and again
+the old memories came back, as they had the night before in the darkness;
+memories of the days when he and she had played at love.
+
+"I wasn't in love with him, and yet, seeing him again, after all these
+years, it seems as though I must have been," she thought, gently. "It's
+friendship, and yet it's more than friendship. It's going to hurt
+dreadfully to go away again."
+
+"Clara, one more word before we drop the subject; because I will drop it
+if it troubles you." Hard's voice came quietly through the darkness.
+"Don't let us mistake each other again. I've tortured myself for fifteen
+years, wondering whether I should have let you go as I did, or have tried
+to hold you. Do you think, with fifteen years behind us, that we made a
+mistake?"
+
+Clara's voice trembled as she answered: "No, Henry, I don't. We were too
+young to understand each other. We needed experience--at least, I did. I
+don't know," she added, with a shadow of a laugh, "whether it's the
+romantic situation, my enfeebled condition, or your noble heroism, but I
+never felt more like being in love with you than I do this minute."
+
+"Honestly, Clara?"
+
+"Honestly, Henry. If you give out on the road I shall try to emulate that
+husky woman in history who carried her husband on her back, do you
+remember?" Then, suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. "Henry, you've been
+awfully patient with me. If you really want to embark on the seas of
+matrimony with such a shaky thing as I am----"
+
+"Clara, I never thought it would come about like this or I would have
+smashed this cussed knee ages ago! My dearest girl, my face is dirty and
+yours is dirtier, but I'm going to kiss you, and then we'll take another
+whack at hobbling to Casa Grande."
+
+The ranch-house stood dark and uninviting except for the dim light of the
+fire which shone through the broken windows of the living-room, but the
+sound of the piano came to their ears as they neared it.
+
+"He's composing," said Clara, softly.
+
+"Yes, he would be," said Hard, unsympathetically. "They always do work it
+off that way, don't they?"
+
+"Work what off?" demanded Clara, instantly.
+
+"Anything that happens to them," said Hard, cheerfully. "You artistic
+fellows are queer, you know, Clara. Don't try to wriggle out of it."
+
+"I shan't," replied Clara, promptly. "But let me warn you, my lad, you
+haven't made me want to give up my music yet. I'm still going back to have
+a try at it."
+
+"Bully for you! Of course you are. And I'm going with you, either to help
+you do it, or to make you fall in love with me so deeply that you'll want
+to give it up."
+
+Clara laughed softly and laid her hand on his arm. "Henry, if you can do
+that, I'll be the happiest woman in the world. Please try!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+BACK TO ATHENS
+
+
+Mendoza and Tom walked toward the Casa Grande ranch-house with fearful
+hearts.
+
+"Dark as a pocket," commented Tom. "You set down here, Mendoza, while I go
+around in back." From the side, a faint light was visible from the
+dining-room of the house. "Hullo, what have we here?" ejaculated the
+engineer. At the same time, he saw a man's figure coming toward him; a
+very familiar figure. "Hard!" he gasped, darting forward and knocking the
+load of firewood from Hard's arms with the fervency of his greeting.
+
+"Hullo, Tom!" Hard returned the handshake quite as heartily. "Glad to see
+you. We were beginning to think we were marooned on this place."
+
+"We?" Tom's face lit up. "You're all right? All of you? Didn't none of you
+get killed by them Yaquis?"
+
+"Why, didn't Scott tell you?" demanded Hard, with sudden anxiety.
+
+"I ain't seen Scott sence you all went off together," said Tom, puzzled.
+
+"Hold on! Do you mean to say that they haven't shown up yet? Scott and the
+girl?"
+
+"Well, I left Athens yestiddy morning. You see, I walked to Conejo and
+picked up Mendoza and his car."
+
+"You walked to Conejo!" Hard's voice was awed.
+
+"'Twa'n't much. I took my time. You see, the Chink brought us word that
+there was something going on over here. He seen the barn burning when he
+was up on the mesa, and he didn't know what was up. He pretty nigh killed
+Cochise, so I had to walk. I knew there was no use coming here with no
+horses, so I went to Conejo. They've got martial law there. The Colonel's
+a nice young feller, if he is a greaser, and he loaned me Mendoza and the
+Ford. Now what happened here, anyhow?"
+
+Hard gave a brief outline of their adventures.
+
+"Mrs. Conrad," he said, "is an old friend of Herrick's and mine, who's had
+to leave her plantation in the South, and is on her way home. She is going
+East with Miss Street. She and I tried camping out at Soria's last night
+after Gonzales left us, but we got starved out and we tramped it back
+here, waiting for someone to come after us. I'm lame as I can be."
+
+Clara's face lit up when she saw the three men enter, and she shook hands
+cordially with Johnson and the old Mexican. Then an anxious look came into
+her eyes. Hard, seeing it, spoke quickly.
+
+"Johnson left Athens yesterday before Scott and Polly got there," he said,
+reassuringly. "He walked to Conejo."
+
+"Walked to Conejo!"
+
+"You see, Tom, Mrs. Conrad and I walked here from Soria's and we've both
+been crippled ever since. A walk to Conejo fills us with excited
+admiration."
+
+Tom chuckled. "Well, I always could walk," he replied. "Never done
+anything particular with the other end of me, but I could always depend on
+my feet. Say, folks, Mendoza's got his car outside. How about a quick bite
+and then beating it for Athens?"
+
+Clara turned eagerly to Herrick.
+
+"You'll come, won't you, Victor? I hate to think of your being here alone
+when everything is so upset."
+
+Herrick smiled and patted her hand affectionately.
+
+"You will give me no peace until I do, so I will go," he said.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a sober little crowd that sat around the dining-room table at
+Athens that night. Though their joy had been very great at the safe coming
+of Hard and Clara in Mendoza's car, it had been tinged with gloom at the
+non-arrival of Scott and Polly. Jimmy Adams was reported much improved.
+
+"That Chinaman doesn't cook any more," confided Mrs. Van to Clara. "He's
+had a rise in life and he just sits and meditates. Awful people to
+meditate--the Chinese. What they find to think about I can't see, but it
+seems to make 'em happy."
+
+Clara's mind, however, was upon the absent. "I can't see what could have
+happened to them. They didn't fall in with Angel Gonzales, that we know,"
+she said. "I'm dreadfully worried about them."
+
+"Hello!" It was O'Grady's voice. "Here comes horses down the road--two of
+them. I believe it's our folks." And he bolted out into the moonlight,
+followed by the others.
+
+It was, and a more exhausted and bedraggled couple it would have been hard
+to find.
+
+"Look like a pair of forty-niners," said O'Grady, "on the last lap of the
+trip."
+
+Scott rolled out of the saddle while Hard lifted Polly to her feet.
+
+"Coffee!" whispered the girl. "Is it really coffee that I smell?"
+
+"Gracious, I believe they're starving," gasped Mrs. Van, running into the
+house.
+
+"All we've had to-day is a cake of chocolate and some lumps of sugar,"
+said Scott, briefly. "Look after the horses, O'Grady, will you? They've
+had it pretty rough, too."
+
+He was lame and sore from his fall of the day before, and tired and hungry
+from the day's discomforts, but he managed to say enough to give them an
+idea of what had happened.
+
+"After I climbed out of the arroyo," he said, "I didn't know which way to
+go. If those fellows had got Polly I wanted to go after them; if they
+hadn't--well, I didn't dare take the chance that they hadn't. I was
+pelting down the trail like a madman when I heard her voice calling me
+from up the trail.
+
+"We got on the horses and began climbing again, pretty well pleased with
+our luck, but the horses were all in. They'd been at it since early
+morning, climbing most of the time, and I saw that they weren't going to
+make it. So I picked a good-looking spot near the head of the stream that
+we'd been following, and we camped there for the night, ate the rest of
+our sandwiches, and rolled up in our blankets. It wasn't very comfortable
+but it was a case of needs must.
+
+"In the morning I set out to find the trail again. It had pretty well
+disappeared--choked up by the brush. We fought our way through it all
+morning and finally lost it; struck out higher up on the mountain and came
+out on the barren side near the top. That's all, except that we've been
+going since five this morning on nothing but a cake of chocolate that
+Polly found in her coat pocket and a few lumps of sugar."
+
+"If I were going back to Chicago to live I believe I'd start soup kitchens
+for hungry people," declared Polly, suddenly. "It's the worst thing in the
+world--being hungry."
+
+"If you was----" Mrs. Van Zandt started suddenly and stopped equally so.
+Polly blushed. Scott came to the rescue.
+
+"We may as well tell 'em while we're telling our other troubles," he
+suggested, and Polly told them.
+
+"I'm going home because he won't marry me unless Father consents," she
+said, "and he doesn't seem to think a consent by wire is legal. But I'm
+coming back."
+
+"Well, I wish you good luck, I'm sure." Mrs. Van Zandt leaned over and
+kissed Polly impulsively. "He'll browbeat you a bit but he'll stick by
+you. Guess I'll make some more coffee," and she bounced into the kitchen.
+
+"Gracious! Would you call that a congratulation?" gasped Polly.
+
+"Here's a bona-fide one, my dear," said Clara, gently. "I am sure you'll
+be happy."
+
+The others laughed and joked while Clara and Hard kept their secret to
+themselves. Scott followed Mrs. Van Zandt into the kitchen with some empty
+cups and their voices could be heard talking earnestly.
+
+"Well," said the latter, as she returned, "I'll say I think Mr. Scott's
+idea a good one." By a psychological process quite her own and quite
+unconsciously followed, Mrs. Van had promoted Scott to the dignity of the
+prefix upon hearing that he was engaged to the superintendent's sister.
+"He's hired Mendoza and that junk-pile of his to take you all to the
+border so's you can get a train East without traveling on the Mexican
+railroads."
+
+"It's like this," Scott explained. "Tom says they told him at Conejo that
+the revolutionary government had taken over all the railroads, both
+Mexican and American, and is operating them. Now, we might make the trip
+all right--they say lots of refugees are coming North; but what's the use?
+I'll run over to Conejo and get them to let us keep Mendoza for a few days
+and perhaps we can get some sort of a safe conduct for the road from that
+military guy over there.
+
+"I'd rather have old Villa's safe conduct than any of the rest of them; I
+think it cuts more ice with the population at large. But perhaps this chap
+can do something for us. We'll try to hit the border at Chula Vista--the
+roads that way are pretty fair. Now, Hard, suppose you and I take a turn
+down the road and have a look at Jimmy before he goes to sleep."
+
+"Scotty," they were outside and Hard spoke frankly, "I didn't want to
+speak of it before the others, but Mrs. Conrad and I have made up our
+minds to undo an old mistake. We've going to try life together instead of
+apart."
+
+"I hoped you would, Hard. She's a fine woman."
+
+"When I say an old mistake, don't misunderstand me," continued Hard,
+soberly. "She and Dick Conrad were happy together. She loved him when she
+married him--and she didn't love me. The mistake was mine, in not making
+her love me when I had the chance. I've got the chance again and I'm going
+to make good this time."
+
+"You're very lucky, Hard. Most fellows don't get a second chance--with the
+same woman. Will she come back here with you?"
+
+"I don't know. We're going to be married in Chula Vista and she's going
+home just as she had planned. I can't go, of course, but as soon as Street
+comes back I'll either go to her or she'll come to me. She hasn't given up
+her music and I don't want her to. It's all rather hazy, Scott. I only
+know that I let her get away from me once, and, selfish brute that I am,
+I'm going to tie her to me now while she's in the humor."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+POLLY MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
+
+
+Not far from the Mexican border lies the town of Chula Vista, New Mexico.
+It is a small town, does not even boast of a railroad connection nearer
+than twenty-five or thirty miles, being, like Conejo, on a bi-weekly spur;
+but it is a town of reputation and a not altogether blameable civic
+pride.
+
+It has borne its part in the border warfare with credit. It has
+slaughtered and been slaughtered, one might say, and rather enjoyed both
+proceedings. When, some years ago, a Mexican bandit raided Chula Vista and
+carried off a young woman, the citizens of the town organized an
+expedition, followed him across the line, and recovered the lady, none the
+worse for her experience; which proves not only that Chula Vista is a
+wide-awake town, but that some bandits are not as black as they are
+painted.
+
+Chula Vista, on the afternoon when our party entered it, duly chaperoned
+by the aged Mendoza, presented an everyday appearance. The Chula Vista
+Trading Company was doing its usual business, and, as this was before the
+days of prohibition, several saloons were doing what they could to relieve
+a universal thirst. An ambitious building of brick, the new schoolhouse,
+witnessed the fact that culture was believed in, even pursued.
+
+The other buildings were less imposing. There was the butcher's place, a
+small adobe with a fenced-in yard. As Mendoza's car drove past it, the
+butcher, with sanguinary intentions, was occupied in driving a wise and
+reluctant young steer around the yard. A little further along was the
+Roman Catholic Church--a Penitentes church, by the way, and the little
+house of Father Silva, who officiated. Further still was a long low
+building which had once been a livery stable, but which had been altered
+to meet the needs of a moving picture theatre, and the Commonwealth House,
+kept by Sam Penhallow, who varied the monotony of hotel keeping by
+exercising the duties of sheriff of the county. He it was who had crossed
+the line after the kidnapped young lady. The newspapers had featured him
+as a Texas Ranger, which he was not and never had been, but that was
+rather a near thing for a newspaper.
+
+Penhallow was a tall, thin, brown-skinned man, who wore checked suits and
+who had the long drooping mustache which fiction assigns to the calling of
+a sheriff. Whether fiction is right in this particular, or whether Sam
+wore the mustache to conform with the best standards, is not important. He
+was sitting in a tilted chair, on the narrow strip of flooring which
+served the hotel as a veranda when Mendoza and his party wheezed into
+view.
+
+Penhallow's conventional welcome expanded into real warmth when he
+recognized Scott, who was well known in Chula Vista.
+
+"Hullo," he said, his hand outstretched. "If it ain't Marc Scott! Drive
+you out down there, did they? Well, Mendoza--blamed if I didn't think you
+was dead long ago! No, I don't guess I know the ladies or your other
+friend, but any friend of Scott's has got the keys of the city all right."
+He turned and called into the house: "Mabel, come out here!"
+
+"One of these ladies, Miss Street, is on her way to Chicago," said Scott.
+Polly, restored to good looks by a few days rest and her prettiest lace
+blouse, beamed on Mr. Penhallow with the usual result. "Mrs. Conrad,"
+continued Scott, "is a friend of ours and is going back with the young
+lady. No, we weren't driven out but things are rather bad down yonder."
+
+"Well, you ladies sure have courage, travelin' round at this time," said
+the admiring Penhallow. A tall pretty girl appeared in the doorway and was
+introduced as "my daughter, Mabel, who runs the ranch. Mabel, show these
+ladies the best rooms we've got. Give 'em the bridal soot if you can find
+it."
+
+Hard, suitcases in hand, followed the women into the hotel, while Mendoza
+steamed away to a haunt of his own. Scott sank into an armchair and
+settled himself for a talk with Penhallow.
+
+"That young Street's sister?" demanded the latter.
+
+Scott nodded.
+
+"I heard Bob Street had married a Douglas girl?"
+
+"He did." Scott explained the situation in regard to Polly. "Her people
+are anxious about her and wrote her to come back at once, so we're
+carrying out instructions. The other folks----" Scott paused and surveyed
+the sheriff with an eye that twinkled. "Are you good at keeping secrets,
+Sam?" he said.
+
+"Well, I have kept 'em," replied Sam, modestly.
+
+"Well, the lady is a widow, runs a ranch down South, and the tall chap is
+our chief engineer, a Boston man. They're up here to get spliced before
+she goes East."
+
+"So! Well, no reason why they shouldn't, I s'pose?"
+
+"None that I know of."
+
+"I kind of had a hunch 'twas her and you when you got out of the car,
+Marc."
+
+"Me!"
+
+"Yes. You needn't blush. You ain't too old to think of settlin' down if
+you pick a woman that ain't too young and giddy for you."
+
+"I'm not asking your advice on matrimony, you old fool, I'm asking if
+you've got anybody in this one-horse place who can marry folks legally,"
+said Marc, touchily.
+
+"The judge could, I guess, but in a case like this there'd be more tone to
+it if you had the Padre. We haven't got any Protestant fellow here just
+now," replied Penhallow, meditatively.
+
+"The Padre's the boy. I'll go over and interview him now."
+
+"You can't. He's to a christening at some Mexican's up the creek. Won't be
+home till late."
+
+"Well, morning's as good a time as any, I reckon, for a wedding," said
+Scott, philosophically. "We've got to stay over anyhow, to see the women
+off. Tomorrow's your train day, ain't it? Or have you changed your
+schedule?"
+
+"No, we haven't changed it," replied Penhallow. "Only we don't run on it
+much. We will to-morrow, though, because I'm sending a lot of hogs over."
+
+"That's good. Say, what do they think up here of the revolution?"
+
+"Which one?" with a chuckle.
+
+"The new one. Looks like the real thing down yonder."
+
+"Well, of course, we were looking for trouble before the elections. We
+never expected the old man to keep his hands off the ballot box and
+everyone knows the man he put up--Bonillas--has got no show. It'll be
+Obregon, I s'pose?"
+
+"It's hard to say. I was in Conejo a couple of days ago and they said
+Sinaloa had followed Sonora and a good many of the other states would fall
+in line in a few days. Obregon's broken away from Mexico City--guess you
+heard that--and they're talking of De la Huerta for provisional
+president."
+
+"Know him? De la Huerta?"
+
+"I've seen him. He's a young chap--some folks think he's a radical--I
+don't know."
+
+"Had any trouble at your place?"
+
+Scott narrated the proceedings of Juan Pachuca at some length and with
+some heat. "A military guy over in Conejo told me that he'd had orders to
+clean up the state, so when Tom wised him up to the fact that Pachuca and
+Angel Gonzales were doping it up to meet somewhere around Pachuca's place,
+he sent a troop of men down there, cut Angel off and smashed up the whole
+business."
+
+"Get their men?"
+
+"Got Angel, but Pachuca slid out."
+
+"They let him probably."
+
+"Maybe so."
+
+"Framed it up for him so's not to hurt the feelings of any of his
+high-toned friends."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder. What time do you eat around here, Sam?"
+
+"How'll six suit you?"
+
+"Suits me fine. I'll go and break it to Hard that he can't get married
+till morning. I suppose this Spanish chap won't object to marryin' a
+couple of Presbyterians? That's what they say they are."
+
+"Gosh, no, the Padre's a regular fellow," replied Penhallow, easily. "You
+give him his fee and he ain't going to raise no rows."
+
+The dining-room of Sam Penhallow's hotel was a fair-sized room with one
+long dinner table and three small round ones. These latter were a
+concession to the habits of certain citizens who brought their sweethearts
+on the nights that Sam served chicken suppers and who were partial to
+parties carres. It was to one of these small tables that Scott led his
+party. Altogether, thanks to the efforts of Mabel and her influence upon a
+certain invisible person whose identity changed often but who was always
+to be identified as the "help," things were much better at the
+Commonwealth than one had a right to expect in a town the size of Chula
+Vista. Compared to Conejo, it was like entering into the promised land.
+
+Mabel, herself, waited at table, and in the just opinion of most of the
+boarders, added fifty per cent, to the pleasure of the occasion. On this
+particular night the room was full and she had the assistance of a smiling
+young Mexican girl who waited on a company of her compatriots who sat at
+the farthest of the small tables. They had just ridden in--their horses
+could be seen outside at the rail. The back of the head of one of these
+gentlemen interested Polly immensely. There was something about it which
+reminded her strongly of Juan Pachuca.
+
+"Do those Mexicans live in Chula Vista?" she asked Mabel, under cover of a
+laugh at one of Hard's stories.
+
+"No, they're strangers," replied the girl. "I think they come from a ranch
+out of town."
+
+Of course it couldn't be Pachuca! He was in hiding somewhere down yonder,
+and yet--the party was on her mind and she noticed it as it broke up and
+the men passed out of the dining-room. She caught a side view of the
+suspected one--it was Pachuca, without a doubt. Whether he saw her or not
+she could not say but if he did he avoided showing it.
+
+The girl's first inclination was to call Scott's attention to the Mexican;
+then she hesitated--it would mean trouble. There would be fighting and
+someone would be hurt. Scott's back was toward them and he talked along
+quite innocent of the presence of Pachuca. While she hesitated the moment
+passed, the Mexicans were out of the room and she saw them mount their
+horses and ride off. Scott and Hard were still deep in argument. Whether
+Clara saw or not Polly could not tell.
+
+"Marc," Polly stopped beside him as they left the dining-room, "I've a
+nasty little headache--shall you mind if I go to bed?"
+
+Scott, a bit surprised, replied in the negative and Polly went on, her
+hand on his arm coaxingly:
+
+"Did you find out that the train goes to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do I have to go on it?"
+
+"There's no other way that I know of for you to go home."
+
+"You won't come with me?"
+
+"I can't leave the property when your brother's away; you know that."
+
+"Well, I suppose you can't. It's very trying, isn't it?"
+
+"It's not what I'd like." Scott, in spite of himself, smiled down into the
+serious eyes.
+
+"Well, if I were as big as you and didn't like a thing, I'd change it,
+that's all. Good-night." She ran up the stairs.
+
+Scott shrugged his shoulders and strode into the office of the hotel; the
+Commonwealth boasted no parlor--guests sat in the office or went to bed.
+Clara and Hard stood near the desk talking to Penhallow. Scott lit a
+cigarette and went outside. The narrow strip of veranda was vacant. He
+walked moodily up and down.
+
+Of course, if she had a headache--but it seemed queer to leave a fellow so
+early on their last evening together for no one knew how long. Perhaps she
+wouldn't come back after all and he would wish that he hadn't given the
+old life a chance to call her and keep her. Then he thought of the
+parents--never having had any of his own as far as memory went, Scott felt
+their claims strongly. He wanted the girl; wanted her so badly that his
+whole being ached to take advantage of her youth and impulsiveness; to
+make the wedding in the morning a double one.
+
+But Scott had not lived a hard life without learning to do without a thing
+if he chose to do without it; the thing might be a drink, it might be a
+horse, it might be a woman. Still, Polly might have stayed down and walked
+with him a while in the moonlight--it wasn't much to ask. Hard and Clara
+had come out, the latter muffled in her long cloak, and were walking down
+Chula Vista's main artery toward the Padre's church. With a muttered
+exclamation, Scott dug his hands into his pockets and went inside.
+
+"I suppose I can sit in the office and gab with Sam," he growled, but Sam
+had disappeared. Scott picked up a newspaper and lit another cigarette.
+Suddenly, the door opened and Clara, visibly excited, appeared, followed
+by Hard.
+
+"Mr. Scott, what do you think? We've just seen Juan Pachuca," declared
+Clara.
+
+"Sure enough? I suppose he could slide over the border if he wanted to.
+Where'd you see him?"
+
+"He was one of those three Mexicans who had dinner at that other small
+table--so Clara says," replied Hard.
+
+"Your back was toward them," went on Clara. "Henry's never seen him, so of
+course he wouldn't notice. I thought at the time that the man looked like
+Pachuca but I didn't get a good view of him. We were going past that
+little saloon down near the church and they came out and rode off. He
+pretended not to see us."
+
+"Where'd they go?" demanded Scott, with the dryness in his tone which
+always appeared when Pachuca was mentioned.
+
+"Out of town--past the church. I'm going up to tell Polly what she's
+missed," said Clara, as she ran up the narrow little stairway. "Girls have
+changed--not a doubt about it," she thought, whimsically. "Fancy spending
+the last evening they have together moping upstairs with a headache!
+Wonder if anything's gone wrong?"
+
+A few moments later she was back in the office with the two men.
+
+"I can't find Polly," she said, in alarm. "I've been to my room and to
+hers and she isn't in either. Her hat and coat are gone, too."
+
+Scott came out of his chair with a bound. "I knew that devil was here for
+no good," he said, starting for the door.
+
+"Don't be a fool, Marc Scott!" Clara's voice was sharp and angry. "We saw
+Pachuca and those two men go off on horseback. He hasn't carried off
+Polly!"
+
+"I didn't say he'd carried her off," said Scott, doggedly. "She sat where
+she could see him at dinner. You saw him--so did she--and he saw her. This
+riding off is a blind----"
+
+"You're going to be terribly ashamed of yourself for what you're saying. I
+know that girl. She wouldn't do a thing like that any more than I would.
+I'm going to see Mabel Penhallow and find out what she knows about it,"
+said Clara, angrily.
+
+"I'm going to find that boy and choke the life out of him. Get out of my
+way, Hard."
+
+"Look here, Scotty, that's not the way to handle this affair,"
+remonstrated Hard, barring Scott's progress toward the door and speaking
+with a warmth unusual to him. "Let's get hold of Penhallow and tell him
+that Pachuca's over on this side----"
+
+"I don't need a sheriff to handle my affairs."
+
+"This isn't your affair, it's the Government's. If this chap's got the
+nerve to think he can come over here after the way he's acted with
+American property it's up to the Government to put him right."
+
+"I can't find Mabel." Clara had returned, her face worried. "The Mexican
+girl said she saw an automobile go by a quarter of an hour ago and that
+Polly was in it. A Mexican was driving and she thought there was another
+man in the car. Marc, he has kidnapped her!"
+
+But Scott had burst out of the room, followed by Hard. Clara, pale and
+frightened, watched them from the window. Scott's blood was boiling. At
+first, stung with a sense of injury at Polly's treatment of him, he had
+leaped to the jealous conclusion that she had seen and communicated with
+Pachuca. Scott was not a model lover. He was not of the type which
+believes always until convinced by proof. He was a hot-blooded, jealous,
+none too good tempered man, who lost his head very easily when he believed
+himself ill-treated. Now that he was beginning to realize that the affair
+might have a different complexion--that the girl had perhaps been
+overpowered and carried off--he was furious in another way, this time
+against Pachuca and against himself.
+
+Mendoza had left his car outside his favorite saloon but the car was gone
+and so was Mendoza.
+
+"I thought I could trust that old greaser but I guess I was wrong,"
+groaned Scott. "We'll get horses from the stable, Hard, and perhaps
+they'll know something about it there."
+
+Investigation revealed the fact that Mendoza had succeeded in getting his
+car out of town without attracting the attention of anyone but his
+dish-washing compatriot. When it leaked out that there was a kidnapping
+involved, the chivalrous instincts of Chula Vista were aroused. Horses
+were eagerly offered and a posse was to be formed as soon as Sam Penhallow
+could be located. Unfortunately, the only machine in town, owned by the
+sheriff, had been loaned that morning to Ed Merriam who had driven it over
+to the railroad junction. In an incredibly short time, Scott and Hard were
+clattering down the road which the three Mexicans had taken half an hour
+before.
+
+"It's useless, of course," grunted Scott "They'll meet the car and shake
+the horses before we can get to them; but, by God, Hard, I'll get that boy
+if I have to comb New Mexico for him."
+
+Hard was trying to be optimistic, but on a strange horse and with a lame
+knee, optimism came with difficulty. "I may be wrong, Scott," he said,
+between jolts; "but Pachuca doesn't seem to me to be just that kind of a
+scamp. He'd elope with your wife in a second if she gave him an
+opportunity, but I can't seem to see him carrying off your sweetheart
+against her will. There is such a thing as type, you know."
+
+"In Boston, maybe. Out here a man's decent or he ain't," growled the
+other.
+
+Hard relapsed into reflection. The road they were traveling forked at
+about a mile out of town. Ahead of them, it continued on the flat; to
+their left it became narrower and wound toward the foothills, remaining,
+however, a road possible for a car or a wagon.
+
+"Which?" queried Hard, looking ahead as the fork became visible.
+
+"The left," replied Scott. "They'll hit out for the hills. The other road
+goes along the railroad tracks."
+
+"I don't think so," muttered Hard. "I think they'll stick to a good road."
+But Scott had spurred his horse. Hard followed him a moment in silence,
+then he called: "Scott, I hear a machine! By Jove, I see it--it's coming
+toward us, down the main road."
+
+Scott pulled up his horse. They peered into the dusk ahead of them. The
+car was coming toward them.
+
+"You brought a gun, I suppose?" he asked.
+
+Hard nodded. "What do we do?"
+
+"Hold 'em up." They pulled their horses down to a walk. "No headlights,"
+observed Scott. "We'll keep this side of that little rise. If they haven't
+seen us, they won't see us till they're on us."
+
+"We don't shoot, I trust, until we know who they are," suggested Hard,
+mildly. "It strikes me they're going the wrong way for our men."
+
+"They may be going to turn at the fork. If it's not them, it's someone who
+can tell us if the Mexicans have gone this way."
+
+The car, a small one, pulled up the hill and started down toward Chula
+Vista. Scott rode into the middle of the road.
+
+"Stop!" he called, authoritatively. The car stopped. It was driven by a
+fat man who was its only occupant.
+
+"What's the matter with you fools?" he demanded, angrily. "Don't you know
+this here's the sheriff's car?"
+
+Scott lowered his gun. "That so?" he said. "Then I suppose you'll be Ed
+Merriam?"
+
+"What business of yours is it?" replied Merriam, disgustedly, though
+apparently relieved at the removal of the weapon. Hard rode up quickly.
+
+"Nothing, only we're out after a bunch of Mexicans who have kidnapped a
+young lady," he explained. "We thought we had them."
+
+"See anything of a Ford car up the road?" demanded Scott.
+
+"No. Say, who----"
+
+"Or any Mexicans on horseback?"
+
+"No. But----"
+
+Scott turned to Hard. "I told you they'd taken the other road."
+
+"Look here," demanded the fat man, excitedly. "Is this an honest-to-gosh
+kidnapping? I say, it ain't Mabel Penhallow?"
+
+"No, it ain't," grunted Scott. "Will you loan us that car for a couple of
+hours?"
+
+"You bet--pile in. Say, you boys give me an awful start. I'm going to
+marry that girl." Merriam wiped his brow in relief.
+
+"And I'm going to marry the girl those brutes have carried off," replied
+Scott, dismounting and turning his horse loose. Hard followed his
+example.
+
+"Well, why didn't you say so at first?" demanded Merriam, as they got into
+the car. "Man's a gabby animal, ain't he? Which way'd they go?"
+
+"Up in the hills, we think," replied Hard.
+
+"It ain't much of a road," said the driver, doubtfully. "Still, if they
+can make it with one car we can with another, I reckon. Goes up Wildcat
+Canyon after a bit; nobody living up there since that old Mexican died.
+Say, d'you suppose they'd take her up to that old cabin? Gosh, we'd better
+hit it up!"
+
+There was silence in the rear of the car. The two men saw in imagination
+the helpless girl and the tiny remote cabin. Scott leaned forward,
+devouring the road with despairing eyes. Hard sat beside him, quiet except
+when he answered Merriam's questions, sparing Scott, whose impatience and
+irritation made speech unendurable.
+
+The new road led directly into the foothills. It was narrow and very
+rough. The travelers were shaken about like marbles in a boy's pocket.
+Wildcat Canyon, into which the road ran, was of a real loneliness--a
+loneliness that penetrated one's consciousness like an odor or a sound. On
+either side the foothills rose, dark and forbidding; to the left of the
+road a deep arroyo ran; on the other, the slope of the hill rose gradually
+to the sky line. Ahead, the hills seemed to come together as the road
+became narrower and wound in and out, becoming finally a trail. There was
+no trace of habitation to be seen, though here and there a few range
+cattle wandered.
+
+"Cabin's about two miles up the canyon," volunteered Merriam. "Can't see
+it from here, the road winds too much."
+
+Scott interrupted him suddenly. "There they are!" he cried, pointing up
+the road. Three horsemen were riding rapidly in the same direction with
+the car.
+
+"She's not with them, Scott," Hard said, thankfully.
+
+Scott did not answer. In his mind, he still saw the auto with the girl in
+it, going toward the cabin up the canyon. Well, at all events, Juan
+Pachuca would not reach that cabin alive! Merriam threw the car into its
+full speed.
+
+"They've piped us--see 'em cross the arroyo," he said. It was true. The
+three riders had plunged into the depths of the arroyo and were out on the
+other side. They did not seem to be running away, but kept to the rapid
+trot which they had been riding.
+
+"Don't know who we are and aiming to give us the idea that they're out for
+a little moonlight ride," remarked Merriam. "This car can go, can't she?
+Sam'd sure be sore if he knew I was runnin' her like this. Why don't we
+beat it up to the cabin and get the girl and let them mosey along by
+themselves?"
+
+"Because we don't know that's where they've taken her," said Scott,
+angrily. He concluded that Merriam had guessed right. Pachuca had no
+particular reason to believe that the car held his enemies, or even that
+Scott and Hard knew him guilty of Polly's disappearance. They would
+safeguard themselves by riding on the other side of the arroyo but they
+evidently did not intend to be scared out of their road to any further
+extent.
+
+The car was rapidly catching up with the riders and soon things must come
+to a showdown. Scott fingered his gun lovingly.
+
+"Hey, you guys, where you heading for?" demanded Merriam, loudly, as the
+car came almost abreast of the three. They turned as the machine slowed
+down to their pace. Before they could answer, Scott was out of the car and
+had them covered.
+
+"Pachuca, it's no use--we've got you," he called. "Hands up!"
+
+The two Mexicans who evidently understood little English, though the magic
+words, "hands up," probably penetrated their darkness, glanced at Pachuca
+for orders. The latter turned his horse and rode to the edge of the
+arroyo. He was his usual jaunty self, a little travel worn, but not
+dulled.
+
+"Senor Scott?" he asked, peering through the dusk. "What do you want?"
+
+Scott paused for a moment, daunted by the other's impudence.
+
+"We want you, Pachuca," said Hard, peremptorily. "Come quietly and don't
+force us to use our guns--we don't want to."
+
+Pachuca slid gracefully from his horse and took a few steps nearer the
+edge. "What's the trouble?" he demanded. "I won't come over till I know
+what you want. We've got our guns, too."
+
+"He's a cool one!" murmured Merriam, admiringly. While Pachuca had drawn
+the attention of the Americans by his sudden move in their direction, his
+two friends had ridden up behind him and stood with their guns ready for
+action. It looked like a deadlock. Scott dropped his gun to his side.
+
+"All right, put up your guns," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "We'll
+talk it over."
+
+The Mexicans got the idea if not the words and lowered their weapons.
+
+"You know what I want you for," Scott went on, angrily. "Where is she?"
+
+"She?" Pachuca's assumption of ignorance was masterly. It almost convinced
+Hard. "Who do you mean?"
+
+"I mean Miss Street. You've kidnapped her or else your friends in
+Mendoza's car have and you're on your way to join them. We want to know
+where. Come, you can't get away with it."
+
+"I've not seen the girl since that night at Athens--yes, I saw her
+to-night for a moment but I did not speak to her. I am here on business of
+my own with these gentlemen. If you have an officer of the law with you
+I'll show him my papers. If you haven't, I'll go on. If you shoot, we'll
+shoot."
+
+"Anyone would think he had papers," murmured Hard to Merriam.
+
+"Well, mebbe he has. They ain't so hard to get. What I want to know is how
+are we going to get him into the car?"
+
+Scott tried to swallow his desire to choke the slim youth on the other
+side. "Come, Pachuca," he said, "this won't get you anywhere. Either tell
+us where the girl is and go your way, or come over here and fight it
+out."
+
+"I don't know where she is. As for fighting--well, if I kill you what do I
+get out of it? Also, you might quite possibly kill me."
+
+"If I only knew she was in the cabin, he could go and welcome," was
+rushing through Scott's brain. "But I don't and I mustn't let him get
+away."
+
+Suddenly, a sound broke upon their ears--the sound of an automobile. It
+was coming down the canyon and coming fast. Merriam seized his horn.
+
+"We can't have 'em coming down on us in this narrow place!" he cried,
+honking furiously. The other car answered. The Mexicans turned at the
+sound and Pachuca, casting a hurried glance at them over his shoulder,
+reached for his bridle. Scott raised his gun instantly.
+
+"You stay where you are!" he yelled. "If those are your people we'll get
+the lot of you; if they're not we've got you, anyhow, _sabe_?"
+
+Pachuca gave one look at Scott and another at his flying friends. Then he
+threw himself upon his horse's back, thrust the spur in deep, and as the
+horse reared, drew his gun. His shot and Scott's rang out together as they
+had done once before in front of the store at Athens--but with a different
+result. Pachuca reeled, recovered, spurred the horse again and tore off in
+the direction taken by the flying Mexicans; Scott stood looking furiously
+at him for a moment then staggered to the machine.
+
+"He got me, Henry," he muttered, as he toppled over. "Look after the
+girl."
+
+And the other machine came rumbling on through the dusk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+TREASURE TROVE
+
+
+Polly Street went up to her room after leaving Scott but she did not go to
+bed. Nor did she behave in any way which suggested an alarming amount of
+headache. Instead, she opened her window and looked out. Her first glance
+showed Scott pacing scowlingly up and down the narrow veranda. Further
+down the street she saw Mendoza's car parked in front of its owner's
+favorite saloon, next door, in fact, to the butcher's, in whose yard hung
+the remains of the steer--an unhappy evidence of the truth of the adage
+that in the midst of life we are in death. Mendoza was not visible, but it
+needed no stretch of the imagination to locate him.
+
+With a little sigh of satisfaction, Polly withdrew her head and remained a
+moment in thought; then she ran downstairs again. A cautious peep into the
+office showed Clara and Hard in conversation with Sam Penhallow. She
+glided into the dining-room where she found the good-looking Mabel
+finishing the clearing off of the tables. Polly looked winningly into the
+tall girl's eyes.
+
+"I want awfully to speak to your father about something; do you suppose
+you could get him into the dining-room without anyone's knowing? I want to
+consult him in his official capacity," she added with dignity.
+
+"Oh!" said Mabel, surveying her guest calmly. "Do you mean as the sheriff
+or as the boss of this hotel? Because if it's that, you can see me. I'm
+the real boss."
+
+"Oh, as the sheriff, of course," replied Polly, hastily. "Anybody could
+see that you ran this hotel. It's much too well handled to be a man's
+job."
+
+"Well," the tall girl unbent a trifle, "I don't mind telling you that I
+think so myself. Of course, as a sheriff Papa is all right. You wait here
+and I'll fetch him and look after the office till you're through with
+him."
+
+In a moment or two Sam Penhallow entered the dining-room, his good-natured
+face a trifle puzzled.
+
+"Mabel said----" he began.
+
+Polly smiled. "Yes, isn't she clever at managing things? You see, Mr.
+Penhallow, it's a case of 'Kind Captain, I've important information.'
+Won't you sit down?"
+
+Sam sat down.
+
+"In the first place, one of those Mexicans who had dinner here to-night is
+Juan Pachuca--the man who held up our mine a few days ago."
+
+"What? Why didn't you say so before? I'd have----"
+
+"I didn't think quick enough," admitted Polly, "and for another thing I
+knew that if Mr. Scott saw him there would be trouble. He has reasons for
+disliking Pachuca--apart from the raid, at least, he thinks he has." Polly
+blushed in spite of herself.
+
+"I get you," responded Penhallow, instantly.
+
+"I thought you would. You seem to me like that sort of a man. Now, I want
+to ask you something; did you ever hear of a Mexican named 'Gasca' who
+lived around here?"
+
+Penhallow, a little mystified, seemed to be thinking.
+
+"A Mexican who had an Indian wife and who was murdered?" went on Polly.
+Much to her disappointment, this minute description did not seem to clear
+Sam's mind.
+
+"You see, that fits so many of them," he said, apologetically.
+
+"The wife died after he was killed," hazarded the girl, anxiously.
+
+"Hold on--you mean the old duffer who lived up Wildcat Canyon?" demanded
+Penhallow. "Woman had a stroke--they found her up there dead. Their name
+was 'Gasca' or 'Gomez' or something of that kind."
+
+"I knew it!" Polly's voice was triumphant. "If I don't make Marc Scott
+apologize to me----" Then, calming herself, she continued: "I'm going to
+spin you a yarn, Mr. Penhallow, and then you've got to help me out."
+
+"Fire away," said the gallant Penhallow and Polly repeated as nearly as
+she could remember the tale that Juan Pachuca had told her that night in
+Athens. Penhallow's eyes snapped.
+
+"By gum, I bet you're on the trail! He and those Mexicans are looking up
+the stuff."
+
+"Of course they are, but why do they come on horseback? They can't carry
+bullion on their saddles."
+
+"They probably don't more than half believe the yarn themselves," said
+Sam, meditatively. "They're just snooping round to see if there's anything
+in it. And automobiles ain't so common round here that you can pick one up
+every time you feel like hunting treasure, either. I own the only one in
+town and I loaned it to-day to a good-for-nothing guy that's courtin'
+Mabel, worse luck!"
+
+"We've got Mendoza and his Ford," said Polly, eagerly. "If I run up and
+get my hat and coat, will you slip down and pry him out of that saloon and
+the three of us run out to Wildcat Canyon before those Mexicans can get
+there?"
+
+"You bet I will," replied the willing Sam.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Penhallow, you're the kind of man that I admire!" Polly's eyes
+shone. "You've got imagination--it's the only thing Marc Scott hasn't
+got."
+
+"Well," grinned Penhallow, "I wouldn't worry about that if I was you; it
+ain't such an awful good quality to marry. My wife used to kick about it a
+whole lot." But Polly was gone. "I knew it!" chuckled Sam. "I knew Scotty
+was meditatin' matrimony by the way he jumped me. Fine girl, that. For ten
+cents I'd give him a run for his money."
+
+Faced with the alternative of driving his car or allowing someone else to
+do it, Mendoza capitulated and allowed Penhallow to coax him out of the
+saloon. They drove down the street back of the houses and were joined by
+Polly who was waiting in the shadow for them. The Mexican girl saw the car
+as it passed the kitchen window, as she afterward told Clara, but failed
+to recognize Penhallow who sat on the further side.
+
+"Do we have to pass the Mexicans or can we go another way?" asked Polly.
+
+"We can take another road and beat them to the fork," said Penhallow.
+"Then we'll have the canyon to ourselves. This way, Mendoza."
+
+"You know, Mr. Penhallow, this gold was stolen from one of the mines owned
+by our company," said the girl. "That's one reason I'm so anxious to find
+it. It will mean something to my brother."
+
+"Sure it will."
+
+"There ought to be a reward, oughtn't there? Not that I care about that;
+the excitement's enough for me."
+
+"Fond of excitement, are you?"
+
+"I'm afraid so. I'll have to get over that, I suppose."
+
+"Not if you marry Marc Scott," said Marc's loyal friend, quite forgetting
+his sinister intentions. "There's nothing tame about Marc. I'd hate to be
+the woman who tried to fool him. She would have some job on her hands."
+
+"Well, she'd have to be cleverer than I am to do it," sighed Polly,
+sadly.
+
+"Well, I don't know. Say, what's your idea of finding this junk, anyhow?
+Where d'you reckon it'd be? Above ground?"
+
+Polly looked a bit taken back. "I never thought of that," she admitted.
+"It's the first time I ever hunted treasure. Where do you think it will
+be?"
+
+"Well, if you want the truth, I ain't looking for it to be there at all.
+My idea is that Gasca got rid of it and that's why they killed him. And
+yet----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Kind of funny the woman hung around after he died. The natural thing
+would have been for her to have gone back to her people, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Of course it would. I know it's there."
+
+"If you know it's there it's a pity I didn't bring along a couple of
+pickaxes," said Sam, with a grin. "All the treasures I ever heard about
+called for pickaxes, skeletons and an old family chart."
+
+"Oh, have it your own way!" said the aggravated Polly. "But who, I'd like
+to know, would have come up to this lonely place to look for gold, and how
+could an ignorant old Mexican like Gasca dispose of it without getting
+into trouble?"
+
+"Well, mebbe so. Anyhow, here's your cabin."
+
+The cabin was situated up the canyon on the right hand side of the road.
+It was a little wooden shack, sagging and discolored, its windows broken
+and its whole appearance denoting that utter desolation to which only a
+deserted homestead can attain; not even a human wreck can equal this
+silent abandonment. It had been a fairly decent place once; there were
+outbuildings which evidenced past association with pigs and chickens,
+while back of the house stood a wooden cart such as country people use for
+hauling wood or hay.
+
+In the dusk, that saddest of sad times, between sunset and moonrise,
+Wildcat Canyon presented an awesome appearance. The hills were outlined
+sharply and darkly against the sky; the little stream that dribbled past
+the cabin was so quiet that it seemed the ghost of water; there was no
+movement--no sound--no suggestion of life.
+
+Polly drew a long breath. "What a dreadful place to live!" she murmured,
+her spirits dashed for a moment. A woman had lived here--a woman stolen
+from her people. Had lived--and, stricken and alone, had died here. Polly
+thought of her own spoiled and sheltered life and her eyes filled.
+
+In the meantime, Sam Penhallow took in the view with intense disfavor. "I
+never was partial to Wildcat Canyon," he remarked, pessimistically. "I
+caught a cattle thief up here once. He hid behind that rock and gave us a
+real nasty time before we got him. Well, since we're here we may as well
+get busy. Can't you get us a little nearer, Mendoza? This is pretty far to
+tote gold bars."
+
+"Oh, laugh if you want to," said Polly, indulgently. "Since I've seen the
+place I'm sure it's here."
+
+"I'll say this," remarked Penhallow, "if I had anything I wanted to hide
+and didn't want any fools blunderin' into, I couldn't pick a likelier
+place to hide it in than this one--whether it was gold or a body."
+
+Mendoza ran them within a few yards of the hut and they got out. Gasca's
+late residence did not improve on closer inspection. The door hung loosely
+on its hinges and once within, its dark recesses suggested many things not
+altogether pleasant. There was little furniture and that broken and poor;
+the hut boasted two rooms and the floor was merely the ground. There was
+nothing to suggest hidden treasure, and no place where it could be
+secreted as far as the visitors could see. Even the fireplace yielded no
+secrets.
+
+"How stupid of us!" declared Polly, determined not to be discouraged. "Of
+course it wouldn't be in here or they would have found it when they took
+the poor woman away. Let's go outside and think."
+
+"My idea is that it's either buried or they got rid of it," said
+Penhallow, promptly. It had suddenly occurred to him that Mendoza was a
+poor chaperon for a good-looking widower--not old--and a pretty girl
+engaged to Marc Scott. It was a disturbing idea, for Sam was of a
+conventional turn of mind. "If he's buried it, we'll have to dig all over
+the place, and I take it none of us is much on the dig."
+
+"Wait a minute, I've got an idea myself," said Polly, with dignity. "You
+look in the chicken-house and I'll take a peep into the shed in the
+corral."
+
+Sam shrugged his shoulders and started for the chicken-house.
+
+"Scott's gettin' his match all right," he muttered, rebelliously. "Goin'
+to make him toe the chalk line, that girl."
+
+"Mr. Penhallow, come here!" Polly's voice was shrill and excited. "Come
+here!"
+
+"Comin', lady. Did you find it?"
+
+"Look here." Polly was at the side of an old cart, peering and poking
+through the sticks of wood and bits of old straw which filled it. "See,
+down there--doesn't that look to you like something?"
+
+Sam Penhallow felt a sudden thrill; a thrill he had not known the like of
+since he led the posse across the border after the kidnapping bandit. He
+bent an excited gray eye over the hole indicated.
+
+"Sure does look like there was somethin' besides wood in there--somethin'
+bulky, and there's some sacking.--Hi, Mendoza, come here and lend a
+hand!"
+
+In the meantime he and Polly began throwing the wood out of the wagon.
+
+"My idea is that Gasca hid it in the wagon because he thought no one would
+suspect anything there," said Polly, "and he could haul it away in a hurry
+if they did."
+
+"It's more likely he buried it and after he died the woman dug it up and
+packed it in here meaning to go South with it and then got sick and died
+before she had the chance."
+
+"Well, I said you had imagination. That's a much better theory than mine,"
+said Polly, generously. "But why didn't somebody take the wagon?"
+
+"Well, it ain't much of a wagon. I reckon they took the horse and the pigs
+and chickens and let the rest slide. The wood don't amount to much; just
+sticks she's picked up."
+
+Mendoza, quite of the opinion that the couple whom up to this time he had
+suspected of nothing more alarming than an elopement, had suddenly gone
+very mad, stolidly chucked wood out of the wagon lest a worse thing be
+demanded of him.
+
+"There!" The three gathered around the half-empty wagon in excitement,
+even Mendoza manifesting a slight degree of zest when through the layer of
+straw, half covered with sacking, was revealed a number of rough looking
+blocks, in shape resembling large loaves of bread. Penhallow lifted one
+with difficulty.
+
+"That's what it is, girl," he cried, his eyes glistening. "It's gold
+straight from the mine. Why, what's the matter?"
+
+"It's so disappointing," murmured the girl; "it looks like old junk."
+
+"Well, it's pretty good old junk. I only wish it was mine, don't you,
+Mendoza? This stuff, Mendoza, all belongs to some rich guys who own a lot
+of mines down yonder. Big, fat chaps who sit in easy chairs back of
+mahogany tables and let other fellows earn their money for them; fine
+business, eh?"
+
+Mendoza grinned--a comprehending if not a lovely grin.
+
+"_Si_," he grunted. "I seen them fat fellers up in San Antone. All got de
+sickness of de kidney or de stomach. Me, I rather be poor man and live on
+de outside."
+
+"Well, that ain't bad for an old heathen, eh, Miss Polly?" chuckled
+Penhallow. "Come on, we've got to load this stuff into the Ford before
+those greasers get here."
+
+"How much do you think there is?" asked Polly, eagerly.
+
+"Oh, I don't know--a few thousands, I guess. I've a notion old Gasca had
+to whack up with the fellows who helped him get it across. It's no fortune
+but it's going to give us lame backs moving it and I reckon the Company
+will be glad to see it again."
+
+It was a hard load to move and long before the transfer was made Polly
+acknowledged that she was glad they hadn't made a bigger haul. It was
+growing darker, too, and Wildcat Canyon began to seem less and less the
+sort of place for a picnic.
+
+"Well, little lady," observed Penhallow, as they started down the canyon,
+"you've done a good night's work for your brother. Say, Mendoza, don't
+that look like a car to you down yonder?"
+
+Polly sat up suddenly. "I thought you said that you owned the only car in
+town?"
+
+"I do. That's why I've a notion that that's mine, though why Ed Merriam
+should be flourishin' it around here, I don't know."
+
+"Car, yes," agreed Mendoza. "Make 'em back up. Can't pass there."
+
+At the same moment the other car honked excitedly and Mendoza answered.
+
+"There are some men on horseback there, aren't there?" said Polly,
+straining her eyes.
+
+"On the other side of the arroyo--yes. Hullo, guns! Say, Ed's in trouble!
+Shake a leg, Mendoza--we got to look into this. Girlie, you can lie down
+if they shoot, do you hear?"
+
+"Yes," breathed Polly, excitedly.
+
+They could see plainly now. They saw two of the mounted men dash off and
+the other, reeling in his saddle, but holding gamely to his seat, dash
+after them. Then they saw two men from the automobile spring to support
+the third who had fallen.
+
+"Gosh, I hope that ain't Ed!" said Penhallow. "I don't like the guy much,
+but Mabel would have my blood if I let him get plugged and me on the spot
+doing nothing."
+
+"Not Merriam," said Mendoza, darkly. "Merriam and Senor Hard carry the
+man."
+
+"Hold on!" But Penhallow was too slow. The car was slowing down and Polly
+was out in the road. Penhallow followed her.
+
+"Is--is he killed?"
+
+Hard looked up from his task of reviving Scott, with the contents of his
+whiskey flask and saw to his amazement a white-faced Polly Street bending
+over him.
+
+"Polly!" he gasped. "Then they didn't get you, after all?"
+
+"Is he killed?" The girl's voice was sharp and hard.
+
+"No, he ain't," Penhallow's hearty voice broke in. "It takes more than one
+bullet to kill a tough bird like Scotty."
+
+Marc opened his eyes, grinned feebly and shut them again, not before he
+had seen Polly's anxious face bending over him.
+
+"They--Pachuca didn't----"
+
+"Not a bit of it, old man," Hard broke in. Then to Polly: "We thought
+Pachuca had carried you off."
+
+Polly stared at him in horror. "Carried me off?" she gasped. "Were those
+men----" she paused, dazed. Hard explained.
+
+Sam Penhallow in the meantime had tackled his prospective son-in-law.
+
+"Where'd they get him, Ed?"
+
+"Shoulder. Don't look to me like no vital spot."
+
+"Well, we ain't all got our vitals as protected as you have, Ed," replied
+the sheriff, scathingly. "What was you up here for, anyhow?"
+
+"Scott got it into his head that his girl had been kidnapped by Mexicans
+and he got us up here after three of 'em. Looks to me, Father-in-law, like
+he'd picked the wrong kidnapper."
+
+"That'll do, Ed; fat folks was made to look funny, not to talk smart.
+Here, let's get this boy bandaged up before he bleeds to death."
+
+Polly, white and frightened, looked on as Penhallow's experienced hands
+tore up a shirt and made it into a bandage. The wound looked very vital to
+her and she would have given up hope a dozen times if it hadn't been for
+Penhallow's cheerful monologue.
+
+"That's the idea! Say, you boys better guess what this girl and I got in
+that Ford. We've been after treasure. Oh, you're waking up, are you?" as
+Scott opened his eyes. "I thought you would. You won't josh your wife much
+about Gasca and his hidden gold, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"It's all my fault," wept the girl. "If I'd only told you where I was
+going this wouldn't have happened. Oh, Marc, I'm so sorry!"
+
+"Well, you ain't the only one that's sorry, I reckon," grinned Merriam.
+"That Mexican ain't going to do much ridin' for a while by the looks of
+him."
+
+"Humph!" Penhallow and Hard lifted Scott gently into the car. "Don't worry
+about him. He's had this coming to him for some time by all accounts and
+the worst of it is his hide's probably so tough he won't know it's been
+punctured." Penhallow spat disgustedly.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The return of the two cars, the one with the treasure and the other with
+the missing girl, made a sensation quite after Chula Vista's own heart.
+When it became known that the doctor had pronounced Scott's wound not
+dangerous but requiring care and quiet, the situation was all that could
+be desired. They would have been happier still could they have heard
+Polly's ultimatum, delivered the following morning when she and Scott were
+alone together a few minutes before Clara's wedding. Scott had insisted
+that the wedding should not be postponed for even a day.
+
+"You're needed in Athens, Hard," he said. "With Bob and me both in the
+discard, you've got to stand by the ship." So the wedding had been set for
+ten o'clock, Polly's train leaving for the railroad junction at noon.
+
+"Now, Marc, listen to me," Polly said. Her tone was severe. "I've never
+been really stern with you since our acquaintance. I've always given in
+and let you have the biggest piece of cake. Now I mean what I say. I'm not
+going back and leave you here, sick and alone. Besides, Mrs. Conrad
+changed her mind last night. She's going to Athens with Mr. Hard."
+
+"There's Mabel Penhallow--she'd look after me," replied Scott, mildly.
+
+"Well, she shan't. Let her look after that fat thing she's going to marry.
+No, I'm going to stay here until you're well again, and by that time my
+reputation will be in shreds--perfect shreds."
+
+"Well, I think it will, too, but what can I do?"
+
+"You can let me tell that minister to come right over here and marry us
+when he's through with the others," said Polly, firmly. Then, with tears
+in her eyes: "Oh, Marc, don't you see I don't like doing underhand things
+any more than you do, but I can't go away and leave you like this? I know
+my people and I know what they'll say. They'll say I did the right
+thing."
+
+"Well, girlie, I don't know--I'd rather like to see Hard and Mrs. Conrad
+married, myself. Don't you think maybe you could get the Padre to do both
+jobs over here?"
+
+Thus it was that a double wedding took place in the small room which the
+invalid occupied. Chula Vista, or at least those citizens who were allowed
+to witness the ceremony, were loud in their praises of the brides. Ed
+Merriam was particularly impressed and begged earnestly that it might be
+made a triple affair, but, as Mr. Penhallow justly observed, you can
+overdo even a good thing if you try hard enough. Ed was obliged to content
+himself with the role of spectator. Mr. Penhallow, himself, was a busy
+man. He not only acted as best man at both ceremonies, but he also had the
+gold on his nerves. It was removed immediately after the weddings--in the
+first spare moment that the best man had--to a near-by town which
+possessed banking facilities, a full account of its recovery being sent to
+Robert Street. This arrived in the same mail with a letter from Polly, and
+Bob celebrated his first sitting up by breaking the news to his parents.
+
+"Tell you what, folks," he said, "while it's a bit of a blow to have our
+baby cut loose like this, there's something to be said on the other side.
+Marc Scott's a first-class fellow and he'll make her a much better husband
+than that Henderson chap ever would."
+
+"But, Bob dear, what sort of a man is he?" Mrs. Street's delicate face
+expressed alarm neatly blended with horror.
+
+"That," replied her husband, briefly, "is what I am going to find out.
+There's a train going west in about two hours and if you wish me to carry
+your blessing to our wayward child I shall be happy to do so."
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Hard went south in Mendoza's Ford. Theirs was a gentle
+romance, with more poetry in it than the bride suspected. Two people so
+thoroughly suited to each other do not always have the happiness to meet
+at just the right time.
+
+"For it is just the right time, Clara," Hard said. "A little earlier and
+we might not have had the wisdom to fall in love again with each other; a
+little later and we might have felt too old and dignified to think of it.
+I consider that we took things in the nick of time."
+
+The success of the revolution, which resulted in the presidency of Alvaro
+Obregon, made popular a movement against the bandits which have flourished
+so long in Mexico. The case of Angel Gonzales was handled early one
+morning by a firing squad in the courtyard of Juan Pachuca's country
+residence. The evidence against Angel was cumulative, the episode of the
+Yaqui village being only one of many interesting exploits in which he had
+figured.
+
+Just how much the escape of Juan Pachuca was due to the connivance of his
+captors will probably never be known. The general opinion, however, was
+that while his misdeeds were not to be condoned, in view of the friendly
+sentiments on the part of the new Government toward the United States; at
+the same time they were considered hardly of a nature to subject a
+gentleman to the fate of a bandit. Cared for by his friends on the other
+side while his wound was healing, Pachuca is still living peacefully and
+very quietly on our side of the border, waiting, probably, the opportunity
+to return to his country to help along another revolution.
+
+Scott and Polly will be happy. They are happy at present, and are no
+longer at Athens; the Fiske, Doane Co. having appointed Scott to a better
+position in one of its Arizona mines, a delicate compliment, he says, to
+his wife's services in the little matter of the Gasca treasure.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Mesa, by Jarvis Hall
+
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