STARR, OF THE DESERT

 BY B. M. BOWER

 AUTHOR OF CHIP OF THE FLYING U, ETC. 

 1917

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I A COMMONPLACE MAN WAS PETER

 II IN WHICH PETER DISCOVERS A WAY OUT

 III VIC SHOULD WORRY

 IV STARR WOULD LIKE TO KNOW

 V A GREASE SPOT IN THE SAND

 VI "DARN SUCH A COUNTRY!"

 VII MOONLIGHT, A MAN AND A SONG

 VIII HOLMAN SOMMERS, SCIENTIST

 IX PAT, A NICE DOGGUMS

 X THE TRAIL OF SILVERTOWN CORDS

 XI THE WIND BLOWS MANY STRAWS

 XII STARR FINDS SOMETHING IN A SECRET ROOM

 XIII HELEN MAY SIGHS FOR ROMANCE

 XIV A SHOT FROM THE PINNACLE

 XV HELEN MAY UNDERSTANDS

 XVI STARR SEES TOO LITTLE OR TOO MUCH

 XVII "IS HE THEN DEAD--MY SON?"

 XVIII A PAGE OF WRITING

 XIX HOLMAN SOMMERS TURNS PROPHET

 XX STARR DISCOVERS THINGS

 XXI THROUGH THE OPEN SKYLIGHT

 XXII STARR TAKES ANOTHER PRISONER

STARR, OF THE DESERT

CHAPTER ONE

A COMMONPLACE MAN WAS PETER

Daffodils were selling at two bits a dozen in the flower stand beside theNew Era Drug Store. Therefore Peter Stevenson knew that winter was over, and that the weather would probably "settle. " There would be the springfogs, of course--and fog did not agree with Helen May since that lastspell of grippe. Peter decided that he would stop and see the doctoragain, and ask him what he thought of a bungalow out against the hillsbehind Hollywood; something cheap, of course--and within the five-centlimit on the street cars; something with a sleeping porch that openedupon a pleasanter outlook than your neighbor's back yard. If Helen Maywould then form the habit of riding to and from town on the open end ofthe cars, that would help considerably; in fact, the longer the ride thebetter it would be for Helen May. The air was sweet and clean out theretoward the hills. It would be better for Vic, too. It would break upthat daily habit of going out to see "the boys" as soon as he hadswallowed his dinner. 

Peter finished refilling the prescription on which he was working, andwent out to see if he were needed in front. He sold a lip-stick to apert miss who from sheer instinct made eyes at him, and he wished thatHelen May had such plump cheeks--though he thanked God she had not thegirl's sophisticated eyes. (Yes, a bungalow out there against the hillsought to do a lot for Helen May. ) He glanced up at the great clock andunconsciously compared his cheap watch with it, saw that in ten minuteshe would be free for the day, and bethought him to telephone the doctorand make sure of the appointment. He knew that Helen May had seen thedoctor at noon, since she had given Peter her word that she would go, and since she never broke a promise. He would find out just what thedoctor thought. 

When he returned from the 'phone, a fat woman wanted peroxide, and shewas quite sure the bottle he offered was smaller than the last two-bitbottle she had bought. Peter very kindly and patiently discussed thematter with her, and smiled and bowed politely when she finally decidedto try another place. His kidneys were hurting him again. He wondered ifHelen May would remember that he must not eat heavy meats, and would getsomething else for their dinner. 

He glanced again at the clock. He had four minutes yet to serve. Hewondered why the doctor had seemed so eager to see him. He had a vaguefeeling of uneasiness, though the doctor had not spoken more than a dozenwords. At six he went behind the mirrored partition and got his topcoatand hat; said good night to such clerks as came in his way, and went outand bought a dozen daffodils from the Greek flower-vendor. All day he hadbeen arguing with himself because of this small extravagance whichtempted him, but now that it was settled and the flowers were in hishand, he was glad that he had bought them. Helen May loved all growingthings. He set off briskly in spite of his aching back, thinking howHelen May would hover over the flowers rapturously even while she scoldedhim for his extravagance. 

Half an hour later, when he turned to leave the doctor's office, he leftthe daffodils lying forgotten on a chair until the doctor called himback and gave them to him with a keen glance that had in it a good dealof sympathy. 

"You're almost as bad off yourself, old man, " he said bluntly. "I wantto watch those kidneys of yours. Come in to-morrow or next day and letme look you over. Or Sunday will do, if you aren't working then. Idon't like your color. Here, wait a minute. I'll give you aprescription. You'd better stop and fill it before you go home. Take thefirst dose before you eat--and come in Sunday. Man, you don't want toneglect yourself. You--"

"Then you don't think Hollywood--?" Peter took the daffodils and beganabsently crumpling the waxed paper around them. His eyes, when he lookedinto the doctor's face, were very wistful and very, very tired. 

"Hollywood!" The doctor snorted. "One lung's already badly affected, Itell you. What she's got to have is high, dry air--like Arizona or NewMexico or Colorado. And right out in the open--live like an Injun fora year or two. Radical change of climate--change of living. Anotheryear of office work will kill her. " He stopped and eyed Peterpityingly. "Predisposition--and then the grippe--her mother went thatway, didn't she?"

"Yes, " Peter replied, flat-toned and patient. "Yes, she went--that way. "

"Well, you know what it means. Get her out of here just as quick aspossible, and you'll probably save her. Helen May's a girl worth saving. "

"Yes, " Peter replied flatly, as before. "Yes--she's worth saving. "

"You bet! Well, you do that. And don't put off coming here Sunday. Anddon't forget to fill that prescription and take it till I see you again. "

Peter smiled politely, and went down the hall to the elevator, and laidhis finger on the bell, and waited until the steel cage paused to lethim in. He walked out and up Third Street and waited on the corner ofHill until the car he wanted stopped on the corner to let a few morepassengers squeeze on. Peter found a foothold on the back platform andsomething to hang to, and adapted himself to the press of people aroundhim, protecting as best he could the daffodils with the fine, greenstuff that went with them and that straggled out and away from thepaper. Whenever human eyes met his with a light of recognition, Peterwould smile and bow, and the eyes would smile back. But he never knewwho owned the eyes, or even that he was performing one of the littlecourtesies of life. 

All he knew was that Helen May was going the way her mother had gone, andthat the only way to prevent her going that way was to take her to NewMexico or Colorado or Arizona; and she was worth saving--even the doctorhad been struck with her worth; and a bungalow out against the hillswouldn't do at all, not even with a sleeping porch and the open-air rideback and forth every day. Radical change she must have. Arizona or NewMexico or--the moon, which seemed not much more remote or inaccessible. 

When his street was called he edged out to the steps and climbed down, wondering how the doctor expected a man with Peter's salary to act uponhis advice. "You do that!" said the doctor, and left Peter to discover, if he could, how it was to be done without money; in other words, hadblandly required Peter to perform a modern miracle. 

Helen May was listlessly setting the table when he arrived. He went up toher for the customary little peck on the cheek which passes for a kissamong relatives, and Helen May waved him off with a half smile that wasunlike her customary cheerfulness. 

"I've quit kissing, " she said. "It's unsanitary. "

"What did the doctor tell you, Babe? You went to see him, didn't you?"Peter managed a smile--business policy had made smiling a habit--while heunwound the paper from around the daffodils. 

"Dad, I've told you and _told_ you not to buy flowers! Oh, golly, aren'tthey beautiful! But you mustn't. I'm going to get my salary cut, on thefirst. They say business doesn't warrant my present plutocratic income. Five a week less, Bob said it would be. That'll pull the company back toa profit-sharing basis, of course!"

"Lots of folks are losing their jobs altogether, " Peter reminded herapathetically. "What did the doctor say about your cough, Babe?"

"Oh, he told me to quit working. Why is it doctors never have any brainsabout such things? Charge a person two dollars or so for telling him todo what's impossible. What does he think I am--a movie queen?"

She turned away from his faded, anxious eyes that hurt her with theirrealization of his helplessness. There was a red spot on eithercheek--the rose of dread which her father had watched heart-sinkingly. "Iknow what he _thinks_ is the matter, " she added defiantly. "But thatdoesn't make it so. It's just the grippe hanging on. I've felt a lotbetter since the weather cleared up. It's those raw winds--and half thetime they haven't had the steam on at all in the mornings, and the officeis like an ice-box till the sun warms it. "

"Vic home yet?" Peter abandoned the subject for one not much morecheerful. Vic, fifteen and fully absorbed in his own activities, was moreand more becoming a sore subject between the two. 

"No. I called up Ed's mother just before you came, but he hadn'tbeen there. She thought Ed was over here with Vic. I don't knowwhere else to ask. "

"Did you try the gym?"

"No. He won't go there any more. They got after him for something hedid--broke a window somehow. There's no use fussing, dad. He'll come whenhe's hungry enough. He's broke, so he can't eat down town. "

Peter sighed and went away to brush his thin, graying hair carefully overhis bald spot, while Helen May brewed the tea and made final preparationsfor dinner. The daffodils she arranged with little caressing pulls andpats in a tall, slim vase of plain glass, and placed the vase in thecenter of the table, just as Peter knew she would do. 

"Oh, but you're sweet!" she said, and stooped with her face close abovethem. "I wish I could lie down in a whole big patch of you and just lookat the sky and at you nodding and perking all around me--and not do aliving thing all day but just lie there and soak in blue and gold andsweet smells and silence. "

Peter, coming to the open doorway, turned and tiptoed back as though hehad intruded upon some secret, and stood irresolutely smoothing his hairdown with the flat of his hand until she called him to come and eat. Shewas cheerful as ever while she served him scrupulously. She smiled at himnow and then, tilting her head because the daffodils stood between them. She said no more about the doctor's advice, or the problem of poverty. She did not cough, and the movements of her thin, well-shaped hands weresure and swift. More than once she made a pause while she pulled adaffodil toward her and gazed adoringly into its yellow cup. 

Peter might have been reassured, were it not for the telltale flush onher cheeks and the unnatural shine in her eyes. As it was, everyfascinating little whimsy of hers stabbed him afresh with the pain of herneed and of his helplessness. Arizona or New Mexico or Colorado, thedoctor had said; and Peter knew that it must be so. And he with hisdruggist's salary and his pitiful two hundred dollars in the savingsbank! And with the druggist's salary stopping automatically the moment hestopped reporting for duty! Peter was neither an atheist nor a socialist, yet he was close to cursing his God and his country whenever Helen Maysmiled at him around the dozen daffodils. 

"Your insurance is due the tenth, dad, " she remarked irrelevantly whenthey had reached the dessert stage of cream puffs from the delicatessennearest Helen May's work. "Why don't you cut it down? It's sinful, theamount of money we've paid out for insurance. You need a new suit thisspring. And the difference--"

"I don't see what's wrong with this suit, " Peter objected, throwing outhis scrawny chest and glancing down his front with a prejudiced eye, refusing to see any shabbiness. "A little cleaning and pressing, maybe--"

"A little suit of that new gray everybody's wearing these days, youmean, " she amended relentlessly. "Don't argue, dad. You've _got_ to havea suit. And that old insurance--"

"Jitneys are getting thicker every day, " Peter contended in feeble jest. "A man needs to be well insured in this town. There's Vic--if anythinghappened, he's got to be educated just the same. And by the endowmentplan, in twelve years more I'll have a nice little lump. It's--on accountof the endowment, Babe. I don't want to sell drugs all my life. "

"Just the same, you're going to have a new suit. " Helen May retrenchedherself behind the declaration. "And it's going to be gray. And a grayhat with a dove-colored band and the bow in the back. And tan shoes, " sheadded implacably, daintily lifting the roof off her cream puff to see howgenerous had been the filling. 

"Who? Me?" Vic launched himself in among them and slid spinelessly intohis chair as only a lanky boy can slide. "Happy thought! Only I'll havebottle green for mine. A fellow stepped on my roof this afternoon, so--"

"You'll wear a cap then--or go bareheaded and claim it's to make yourhair grow. " Helen May regarded him coldly. "Lots of fellows do. You don'tget a single new dud before the fourth, Vic Stevenson. "

"Oh, don't I?" Vic drawled with much sarcasm, and pulled two dollars fromhis trousers pocket, displaying them with lofty triumph. "I get a new hatto-morrow, Miss Stingy. "

"Vic, where did you get that money?" Helen May's eyes flamed to thebattle. "Have you been staying out of school and hanging around thosepicture studios?"

"Yup--at two dollars per hang, " Vic mouthed, spearing a stuffed greenpepper dexterously. "Fifty rehearsals for two one-minute scenes ofhonorable college gangs honorably hailing the hee-ro. Waugh! Where'd youget these things--or did the cat bring it in? Stuffed with laundry soap, if you ask me. Why don't you try that new place on Spring?"

"Vic Stevenson!" Helen May began in true sisterly disapprobation. "Isthat getting you anywhere in your studies? A few more days out ofschool, and--"

Peter's thoughts turned inward. He did not even hear the half playful, half angry dispute between these two. Vic was a heady youth, much givento rebelling against the authority of Helen May who bullied or wheedledas her mood and the emergency might impel, as sisters do the world over. Peter was thinking of his two hundred dollars saved against disaster; anda third of that to go for life insurance on the tenth, which was just onerow down on the calendar; and Helen May going the way her mother hadgone--unless she lived out of doors "like an Indian" in Arizonaor--Peter's mind refused to name again the remote, inaccessible placeswhere Helen May might evade the penalty of being the child of her motherand of poverty. 

Gray hat for Peter or bottle-green hat for Vic--what did it matter ifneither of them ever again owned a hat, if Helen May must stay here inthe city and face the doom that had been pronounced upon her? What didanything matter, if Babe died and left him plodding along alone? Vic didnot occur to him consolingly. Vic was a responsibility; a comfort he wasnot. Like many men, Peter could not seem to understand his son half aswell as he understood his daughter. He could not see why Vic shouldfrivol away his time; why he should have all those funny little conceitsand airs of youth; why he should lord it over Helen May who was every dayproving her efficiency and her strength of character anew. If Helen Maywent the way her mother had gone, Peter felt that he would be alone, andthat life would be quite bare and bleak and empty of every incentivetoward bearing the little daily burdens of existence. 

He got up with his hand going instinctively to his back to ease the achethere, and went out upon the porch and stood looking drearily down uponthe asphalted street, where the white paths of speeding automobilesslashed the dusk like runaway sunbeams on a frolic. Then the streetlights winked and sputtered and began to glow with white brilliance. 

Arizona or New Mexico or Colorado! Peter knew what the doctor had inmind. Vast plains, unpeopled, pure, immutable in their calm; stars thatcame down at night and hung just over your head, making the darknessalive with their bright presence; a little cottage hunched against ahill, a candle winking cheerily through the window at the stars; thecries of night birds, the drone of insects, the distant howling of acoyote; far away on the boundary of your possessions, a fence of barbedwire stretching through a hollow and up over a hill; distance and quietand calm, be it day or night. And Helen May coming through the sunlight, riding a gentle-eyed pony; Helen May with her deep-gold hair tousled inthe wind, and with health dancing in her eyes that were the color of aripe chestnut, odd contrast to her hair; Helen May with the little redspots gone from her cheek bones, and with tanned skin and freckles on hernose and a laugh on her lips, coming up at a gallop with the sun behindher, and something more; with sickness behind her and the drudgery ofeight hours in an office, and poverty and unhappiness. And Vic--yes, Vicin overalls and a straw hat, growing up to be the strong man he neverwould be in the city. 

Like many another commonplace man of the towns, for all his colorlessways and his thinning hair and his struggle against poverty, Peter wassomething of a dreamer. And like all the rest of us who build our dreamsout of wishes and hopes and maybes, Peter had not a single fact to use inhis foundation. Arizona, New Mexico or Colorado--to Peter they were butsymbols of all those dear unattainable things he longed for. And that helonged for them, not for himself but for another who was very dear tohim, only made the longing keener and more tragic. 

CHAPTER TWO

IN WHICH PETER DISCOVERS A WAY OUT

We are always exclaiming over the strange way in which events linkthemselves together in chains; and when the chains bind us to a certaincondition or environment, we are in the habit of blandly declaringourselves victims of the force of circumstances. By that rule, Peterfound himself being swept into a certain channel of thought about whichevents began at once to link themselves into a chain which drew himperforce into a certain path that he must follow. Or it may have been hispeculiar single-mindedness that forced him to follow the path; howeverthat may be, circumstances made it easy. 

If Helen May worried about her cough and her failing energy, she did notmention the fact again; but that was Helen May's way, and Peter was notcomforted by her apparent dismissal of the subject. So far as he couldsee she was a great deal more inclined to worry over Vic, who refused tostay in school when he could now and then earn a dollar or two acting in"mob scenes" for some photoplay company out in Hollywood. He did notspend the money wisely; Helen May declared that he was better off withempty pockets. 

Ordinarily Peter would have taken Vic's rebellion seriously enough to puta stop to it. He did half promise Helen May that he would notify all thedirectors he could get hold of not to employ Vic in any capacity; even to"chase him off the studio grounds", as Helen May put it. But he did not, because chance threw him a bit of solid material on which to rebuild hisair castle for Helen May. 

He was edging his way down the long food counter, collecting his lunch ofrice pudding, milk and whole-wheat bread in a cafeteria on Hill Street. He was late, and there was no unoccupied table to be had, so he finallyset his tray down where a haggard-featured woman clerk had just eatenhastily her salad and pie. A brown-skinned young fellow with countrymanners and a range-fostered disposition to talk with any one who tarriedwithin talking distance, was just unloading his tray load of provender onthe opposite side of the table. He looked across at Peter's tray, grinnedat the meager luncheon, and then looked up into Peter's face withfriendliness chasing the amusement from his eyes. 

"Golly gee! There's a heap of difference in our appetites, from the looksof our layouts, " he began amiably. "I'm hungry as a she-wolf, myself. Hope they don't make me wash the dishes when I'm through; I'm alwayskinda scared of these grab-it-and-go joints. I always feel like making asneak when nobody's looking, for fear I'll be called back to clean up. "

Peter smiled and handed his tray to a waiter. "I wish I could eat a meallike that, " he confessed politely. 

"Well, you could if you lived out more in the open. Town kinda gits aperson's appetite. Why, first time I come in here and went down the chutepast the feed troughs, why it took two trays to pack away the grub I seenand wanted. Lookout lady on the high stool, she give me twotickets--thought there was two of, me, I reckon. But I ain't eatin' theway I was then. Town's kinda gittin' me like it's got the rest of you. Last night I come pretty near makin' up my mind to go back. Little oldshack back there in the greasewood didn't look so bad, after all. Only Ido hate like sin to bach, and a fellow couldn't take a woman out there inthe desert to live, unless he had money to make her comfortable. So I'mgoing to give up my homestead--if I can find some easy mark to buy out myrelinquishment. Don't want to let it slide, yuh see, 'cause theimprovements is worth a little something, and the money'd come handyright now, helpin' me into something here. There's a chance to buy intoa nice little service station, fellow calls it--where automobiles stop togit pumped up with air and gasoline and stuff. If I can sell myimprovements, I'll buy in there. Looks foolish to go back, once I made upmy mind to quit. "

He ate while he talked, and he talked because he had the simple mind ofa child and must think out loud in order to be perfectly at ease. Hehad that hunger for speech which comes sometimes to men who have livedfar from their kind. Peter listened to him vaguely at first; thenavidly, with an inner excitement which his mild, expressionless facehid like a mask. 

"I was getting kinda discouraged when my horse up 'n died, " the eaterwent on. "And then when some durn greaser went 'n stole my burro, I jestup 'n sold my saddle and a few head uh sheep I had, and pulled out. NewMexico ranching is all right for them that likes it, but excuse me! Iwant to live where I can see a movie once in a while, anyhow. " He stoppedfor the simple, primitive reason that he had filled his mouth tooverflowing with food, so that speech was for the moment a physicalimpossibility. 

Peter sipped his glass of milk, and his thoughts raced back and forthbetween the door of opportunity that stood ajar, and the mountain ofdifficulty which he must somehow move by his mental strength alonebefore he and his might pass through that door. 

"Ah--how much do you value your improvements at?" he asked. His emotionwas so great that his voice refused to carry it, and so was flat and asexpressionless as his commonplace face. 

"Well, " gurgled the young man, sluicing down his food with coffee, "it'spretty hard to figure exactly. I've got a good little shack, you see, andthere's a spring right close handy by. Springs is sure worth money inthat country, water being scurse as it is. There's a plenty for the houseand a few head of stock; well, in a good wet year a person could raise alittle garden, maybe; few radishes and beans, and things like that. Butuh course, that can't hardly be called an improvement, 'cause it wasthere when I took the place. A greaser, he had the land fenced and wasusin' the spring 'n' range like it was his own, and most folks, they wasscared to file on it. But she's sure filed on now, and I've got six weeksyet before it can be jumped. 

"Well, there's a shed for stock, and a pretty fair brush corral, and Ibuilt me a pretty fair road in to the place--about a mile off the mainroad, it is. I done that odd times the year I was on the place. Thesheep I sold; sheep's a good price now. I only had seventeen--coyotesand greasers, they kep' stealin' 'em on me, or I'd 'n' had more. I'd'a' lost 'em all, I guess, if it hadn't been for Loma--dog I got withme. Them--"

Peter looked at his watch in that furtive way which polite persons employwhen time presses and a companion is garrulous. He had finished his ricepudding and his milk, and in five minutes he would be expected to hang uphis hat behind the mirrored partition of the New Era Drug Store and walkout smilingly to serve the New Era customers, patrons, the New Era calledthem. In five minutes he must be on duty, yet Peter felt that his verylife depended upon bringing this wordy young man to a point in hismonologue. 

"If you will come to the New Era Drug Store, at six o'clock, " said Peter, "I shall be glad to talk with you further about this homestead of yours. I--ah--have a friend who has an idea of--ah--locating somewhere inArizona or New Mexico or Colorado--" Peter could name them now withoutthat sick feeling of despair "--and he might be interested. But, " headded hastily, "he could not afford to pay very much for a place. Still, if your price is low enough--"

"Oh, I reckon we can git together on the price, " the young man saidcheerfully, as Peter rose and picked up his check. "I'll be there at six, sure as shootin' cats in a bag. I know where the New Era's at. I went inthere last night and got something to stop my tooth achin'. Ached likethe very devil for a while, but that stuff sure fixed her. "

Peter smiled and bowed and went his way hurriedly, his pale lips workingnervously with the excitement that filled him. The mountain of difficultywas there, implacably blocking the way. But beyond was the door ofopportunity, and the door was ajar. There must, thought Peter, be someway to pass the mountain and reach the door. 

Helen May telephoned that she meant to pick out that gray suit for himthat evening. Since it was Saturday, the stores would be open, and therewas a sale on at Hecheimer's. She had seen some stunning grays in thewindow, one-third off. And would he. .. . 

Peter's voice was almost irritable when he told her that he had abusiness engagement and could not meet her. And he added the informationthat he would probably eat down town, as he did not know how long hewould be detained. Helen May was positively forbidden to do anything atall about the suit until he had a chance to talk with her. After whichunprecedented firmness Peter left the 'phone hurriedly, lest Helen Mayshould laugh at his authority and lay down a law of her own, which shewas perfectly capable of doing. 

At five minutes to six the young man presented himself at the New Era, and waited for Peter at the soda fountain, with a lemon soda and a prettygirl to smile at his naïve remarks. Peter's heart had given a jump and aflutter when the young man walked in, fearing some one else might snap atthe chance to buy a relinquishment of a homestead in New Mexico. And yet, how did Peter expect to buy anything of the sort? If Peter knew, he keptthe knowledge in the back of his mind, telling himself that there wouldbe some way out. 

He went with the young man, whose name he learned was Johnny Calvert, andhad dinner with him at the cafeteria where they had met at noon. Johnnytalked a great deal, ate a great deal, and unconsciously convinced Peterthat he was an honest young man who was exactly what he representedhimself to be. He had papers which proved his claim upon three hundredand twenty acres of land in Dona Ana County, New Mexico. He also had amap upon which the location of his claim was marked with a pencil. Malpais, he said, was the nearest railroad point; not much of a point, but you could ride there and back in a day, if you got up early enough inthe morning. 

Peter asked about the climate and the altitude. Johnny was a bit hazyabout the latter, but it was close to mountains, he said, and it was ashigh as El Paso, anyway, maybe higher. The climate was like all therest of the country, coming in streaks of good and bad. Peter, gainingconfidence as Johnny talked, spoke of his daughter and her impendingdoom, and Johnny, instantly grasping the situation, waxed eloquent. Why, that would be just the place, he declared. Dry as a bone, the weatherwas most of the year; hot--the lungers liked it hot and dry, he knew. And when it was cold, it was sure bracing, too. Why, the country wasalive with health-seekers. At that, most of 'em got well--them thatdidn't come too late. 

That last sentence threw Peter into a panic. What if he dawdled along andkept Helen May waiting until it was too late? By that time I think Peterhad pretty clearly decided how he was to remove the mountain ofdifficulty. He must have, or he would not have had the courage to drivethe bargain to a conclusion in so short a time. 

Drive it he did, for at nine o'clock he let himself into the place hecalled home and startled Helen May with the announcement that he hadbought her a claim in New Mexico, where she was to live out of doors likean Indian and get over that cough, and grow strong as any peasant woman;and where Vic was going to keep out of mischief and learn to amount tosomething. He did not say what the effect would be upon himself; Peterwas not accustomed to considering himself except as a provider ofcomfort for others. 

Helen May did not notice the omission. "_Bought_ a claim?" she repeatedand added grimly: "What with?"

"With two hundred dollars cash, " Peter replied, smiling queerly. "It'sall settled, Babe, and the claim is to stand in your name. Everything isattended to but the legal signatures before a notary. I was glad my moneywas in the all-night bank, because I was not compelled to wait untilMonday to get it for young Calvert. You will have the relinquishment ofhis right to the claim, Babe, and a small adobe house with sheds andyards and a good spring of living water. In building up the place into aprofitable investment you will be building up your health, which is thefirst and greatest consideration. I--you must not go the way your motherwent. You will not, because you will live in the open and throw offthe--ah--incipient--"

"Dad--_Stevenson_!" Helen May was sitting with her arms lying loose inher lap, palms upward. Her lips had been loose and parted a little withthe slackness of blank amazement. In those first awful minutes she reallybelieved that her father had suddenly lost his mind; that he was jokingnever occurred to her. Peter was not gifted with any sense of humorwhatsoever, and Helen May knew it as she knew the color of his hair. 

"You will no longer be a wage slave, doomed to spend eight hours of everyday before a typewriter in that insurance office. You will beindependent--a property owner who can see that property grow under yourthought and labor. You will see Vic growing up among clean, healthfulsurroundings. He will be able to bear much of the burden--the brunt ofthe work. The boy is in a fair way to be ruined if he stays here anylonger. There will be six weeks of grace before the claim can beseized--ah--jumped, the young man called it. In that time you must belocated upon the place. But you should make all possible haste in anycase, on account of your health. Monday morning we will go together withyoung Calvert and attend to the legal papers, and then I should adviseyou to devote your time to making preparations--"

"Dad--_Stevenson_!" Helen May's voice ended in an exasperated, frightenedkind of wail. "I and Vic! Are you crazy?"

"Not at all. It is sudden, of course. But you will find, when you stop tothink it over, that many of the wisest things we ever do are done withoutdawdling, --suddenly, one may say. No, Babe, I--"

"But two hundred dollars just for the rights to the claim! Dad, look atit calmly! To build up a ranch takes money. I don't know a thing aboutranching, and neither do you; but we both know that much. One has to eat, even on a ranch. I wouldn't have my ten a week, remember, and youwouldn't have your salary, unless you mean to stay here and keep on atthe New Era. And that wouldn't work, dad. You know it wouldn't work. Yoursalary would barely keep you, let alone sending money to us. You can'texpect to keep yourself and furnish us money; and you've paid out all youhad in the bank. The thing's impossible on the face of it!"

"Yes, planning from that basis, it would be impossible. " Peter's eyeswere wistful. "I tried to plan that way at first; but I saw it wouldn'tdo. The expense of getting there, even, would be quite an item in itself. No, it couldn't be done that way, Babe. "

"Then will you tell me how else it is to be done?" Helen May's voice wastired and exasperated. "You say you have paid the two hundred. Thatleaves us just the furniture in this flat; and it wouldn't bring enoughto take us to the place, let alone having anything to live on when we gotthere. And my wages would stop, and so would yours. Dad, do you realizewhat you've done?" She tilted her head forward and stared at him intentlythrough her lashes, which was a trick she had. 

"Yes, Babe, I realize perfectly. I'm--not counting on just thefurniture. I--think it would pay to ship the stuff on to the claim. "

"For heaven's sake, dad! What are you counting on?" Helen May gave ahysterical laugh that set her coughing in a way to make the veins standout on forehead and throat. (Peter's hands blenched into fighting fistswhile he waited for the spasm to wear itself out. She should not go theway her mother had gone, he was thinking fiercely. ) "What--are--youcounting on?" she repeated, when she could speak again. 

"Well, I'm counting on--a source that is sure, " Peter replied vaguely. "The way will be provided, when the time comes. I--I have thought it allout calmly, Babe. The money will be ready when you need it. "

"Dad, don't borrow money! It would be a load that would keep usstaggering for years. We are going along all right, better than hundredsof people all around us. I'm feeling better than I was; now the weatheris settled, I feel lots better. You can sell whatever you bought; maybeyou can make a profit on the sale. Try and do that, dad. Get enoughprofit to pay for that gray suit I saw in the window!" She was smiling athim now, the whimsical smile that was perhaps her greatest charm. 

"Never mind about the gray suit. " Peter spoke sharply. "I won't needit. " He got up irritably and began pacing back and forth across thelittle sitting room. "You're not better, " he declared petulantly. "That'sthe way your mother used to talk--even up to the very last. A year inthat office would kill you. I know. The doctor said so. Your only chanceis to get into a high, dry place where you can live out of doors. He toldme so. This young man with the homestead claim was a godsend--a godsend, I tell you! It would be a crime--it would be murder to let the chanceslip by for lack of money. I'd steal the money, if I knew of any way toget by with it, and if there was no other way open. But there is a way. I'm taking it. 

"I don't want to hear any more argument, " he exclaimed, facing her quitesuddenly. His eyes had a light she had never seen in them before. "Mondayyou will go with me and attend to the necessary legal papers. After that, I'll attend to the means of getting there. "

He stood looking down at her where she sat with her hands clasped in herlap, staring up at him steadfastly from under her eyebrows. His facesoftened, quivered until she thought he was going to cry like a woman. But he only came and laid a shaking hand on her head and smoothed herhair as one caresses a child. 

"Don't oppose me in this, Babe, " he said wearily. "I've thought it allout, and it's best for all of us. I can't see you dying here byinches--in the harness. And think of Vic, if that happened. He's just atthe age where he needs you. I couldn't do anything much with him alone. It's the best thing to do, the only thing to do. Don't say anything moreagainst it, don't argue. When the time comes, you'll do your partbravely, as I shall do mine. And if you feel that it isn't worth whilefor yourself, think of Vic. "

Peter turned abruptly and went into his room, and Helen May dropped herhead down upon her arms and cried awhile, though she did not clearlyunderstand why, except that life seemed very cruel, like some formlessmonster that caught and squeezed the very soul out of one. Soon she heardVic coming, and pulled herself together for the lecture he had earned bygoing out without permission and staying later than he should. On onepoint dad was right, she told herself wearily, while she was locking upfor the night. Town certainly was no place for Vic. 

The next day, urged by her father, Helen May met Johnny Calvert, andcooked him a nice dinner, and heard a great deal about her new claim. AndMonday, furthermore, the three attended to certain legal details. She hadmany moments of panic when she believed her father was out of his mind, and when she feared that he would do some desperate thing like stealingmoney to carry out this strange plan. But she did as he wished. There wasa certain inflexible quality in Peter's mild voice, a certaindetermination in his insignificant face that required obedience to hiswishes. Even Vic noticed it, and eyed Peter curiously, and asked HelenMay what ailed the old man. 

An old man Peter was when he went to his room that night, leaving HelenMay dazed and exhausted after another evening spent in absorbing queerbits of information from the garrulous Johnny Calvert. She would be ableto manage all right, now, Peter told her relievedly when Johnny left. Sheknew as much about the place as she could possibly know without havingbeen there. 

He said good night and left her wondering bewilderedly what strange thingher dad would do next. In the morning she knew. 

Peter did not answer when Helen May rapped on his door and said thatbreakfast would be ready in five minutes. Never before had he failed tocall out: "All right, Babe!" more or less cheerfully. She waited aminute, listening, and then rapped again and repeated her customaryannouncement. Another wait, and she turned the knob and looked in. 

She did not scream at what she found there. Vic, sleeping on the couchbehind a screen in the living room, yawned himself awake and proceededreluctantly to set his feet upon the floor and grope, sleepy-eyed, forhis clothes, absolutely unconscious that in the night sometime Peter hadpassed a certain mountain of difficulty and had reached out unafraid andpulled wide open the door of opportunity for his children. 

Beyond the door, Helen May was standing rigidly beside the bed wherePeter lay, and was reading for the second time the letter which Peter hadheld in his hand. At first her mind had refused to grasp its meaning. Now, reading slowly, she knew . .. 

Dear Babe, (said the letter). 

Don't be horrified at what I have done. I have thought the whole matterover calmly, and I am satisfied that this is the best way. My life couldnot go on very long, anyway. The doctor made that plain enough to meSunday. I saw him. I was in a bad way with kidney trouble, he said. Iknew it before he told me. I knew I was only good for a few months moreat the most, and I would soon be a helpless burden. Besides, I have hearttrouble that will account for this sudden taking off, so you can escapeany unpleasant gossip. 

Take the life insurance and use it on that claim, for you and Vic. Liveout in the open and get well, and make a man of Vic. Three thousanddollars ought to be ample to put the ranch on a paying basis. And don'tblame your dad for collecting it now, when it will do the most good. Icould see no benefit in waiting and suffering, and letting you getfarther downhill all the while, making it that much harder to climb back. Go at once to your claim, and do your best--that is what will make yourdad happiest. You will get well, and you will make a home for you andVic, and be independent and happy. In doing this you will fulfill thelast, loving wish of your father. 

PETER STEVENSON. 

P. S. Better stock the place with goats. Johnny Calvert thinks they wouldbe better than sheep. 

CHAPTER THREE

VIC SHOULD WORRY

Wise man or fool, Peter had taken the one way to impress obedience uponHelen May. Had he urged and argued and kept on living, Helen May couldhave brought forth reasons and arguments, eloquence even, to combat him. But Peter had taken the simple, unanswerable way of stating his wishes, opening the way to their accomplishment, and then quietly lying back uponhis pillow and letting death take him beyond reach of protest. 

For days Helen May was numb with the sudden dropping of Life's bigresponsibilities upon her shoulders. She could not even summon energyenough to call Vic to an accounting of his absences from the house. Untilafter the funeral Vic had been subdued, going around on his toes andlooking at Helen May with wide, solemn eyes and lips prone to trembling. But fifteen years is the resilient age, and two days after Peter wasburied, Vic asked her embarrassedly if she thought it would look rightfor him to go to the ball game. He had to do _something_, he addeddefensively. 

"Oh, I guess so; run along, " Helen May had told him absently, without inthe least realizing what it was he had wanted to do. After that Vic wenthis way without going through the ceremony of asking her consent, securein the knowledge of her indifference. 

The insurance company for which she had worked set in motion the wheelsthat would eventually place in her hands the three thousand dollars forwhich Peter had calmly given his life. She hated the money. She wanted totell her dad how impossible it was for her to use a cent of it. Yet shemust use it. She must use it as he had directed, because he had died toopen the way for her obedience. She must take Vic, against his violentyoung will, she suspected, and she must go to that claim away off theresomewhere in the desert, and she must live in the open--and raise goats!For there was a certain strain of Peter's simplicity in the nature of hisdaughter. His last scrawled advice was to her a command which she mustobey as soon as she could muster the physical energy for obedience. 

"What do I know about goats!" she impatiently asked her empty room onemorning after a night of fantastic dreams. "They eat tin cans and paper, and Masonic candidates ride them, and they stand on high banks and looksilly, and have long chin whiskers and horns worn back from theirforeheads. But as to _raising_ them--what are they good for, forheaven's sake?"

"Huh? Say, what are you mumbling about?" Vic, it happened, was awake, andHelen May's door was ajar. 

"Oh, nothing. " Then the impulse of speech being strong in her, Helen Maypulled on a kimono and went out to where Vic lay curled up in theblankets on the couch. "We've got to go to New Mexico, Vic, and, live onthat land dad bought the rights to, and raise goats!"

"Yes, we have--not!"

"We have. Dad said so. We've got to do it, Vic. I expect we'd betterstart as soon as the insurance is paid, and that ought to be next week. Malpais is the name of the darned place. Inez Garcia says Malpais meansbad country. I asked her when she was here yesterday. I expect it does, though you can't tell about Inez. She's tricky about translating stuff;she thinks it's funny to fake the meaning of things. But I expect it'strue; it sounds like that. "

"I should worry, " Vic yawned, with the bland triteness of a boy whospeaks mostly in current catch phrases. "I've got a good chance for ajuvenile part in that big five-reeler Walt's going to put on. Fat chanceanybody's got putting _me_ to herding goats! That New Mexico dope got mynumber the first time dad sprung it. Not for mine!"

Helen May sat down on the arm of a Mission chair, wrapped her kimonoaround her thin figure, and looked at Vic from under her lashes. Besidesraising goats and living out in the open, she was to make a man of Vic. She did not know which duty appalled her most, or which animal seemed toher the more intractable. 

"We've got to do it, " she said simply. "I don't like it either, but thatdoesn't matter. Dad planned that way for us. "

Vic sat up crossly, groping for the top button of his pajama coat. Hislong hair was tousled in front and stood straight up at the back, and hislids were heavy yet with sleep. He looked very young and very unruly, andas though several years of grace were still left to Helen May before sheneed trouble herself about his manhood. 

"Not for mine, " he repeated stubbornly. "You can go if you want to, butI'm going to stay in pictures. " No film star in the city could havesurpassed Vic's tone of careless assurance. "Listen! Dad was queer alongtowards the last. You know that yourself. And just because he had a nuttyidea of a ranch somewhere, is no reason why we should drop everything--"

"We've got to do it, and you needn't fuss, because you've got to goalong. I expect we can study up--on goats. " Her voice shook a little, forshe was close to tears. 

"Well, I'm darned if you ain't as nutty as dad was! Of course, he wasold and sick, and there was plenty of excuse for him to slop down alongtowards the last. Now, listen! My idea is to get a nifty bungalow outthere handy to the studios, and both of us to go into pictures. We canget a car; what I want is a speedy, sassy little boat that can _travel_. Well, and listen. We'll have plenty to live on till we both land instock. I've got a good chance right now to work into a comedy company;they say my grin screens like a million dollars, and when it comes tomaking a comedy getaway I'm just geared right, somehow, to pull a laugh. That college picture we made got me a lot of notice in the projectionroom, and I was only doing mob stuff, at that. But I stood out. AndWalt's promised me a fat little bit in this five-reeler. I'll land instock before the summer's half over!

"And you can land with some good company if you just make a stab at it. Your eyes and that trick of looking up under your eyebrows are just thetype for these sob leads, and you've got a good photographic face: a_good_ face for it, " he emphasized generously. "And your figure couldn'tbe beat. Believe me, I know. You ought to see some of them Janes--and atthat, they manage to get by with their stuff. A little camera experience, under a good director that would bring out your good points--I was goingto spring the idea before, but I knew dad wouldn't stand for it. "

"But we've got to go and live on that claim. We've _got_ to. "

Vic's face purpled. "Say, are you plumb _bugs_? Why--" Vic gulped andstuttered. "Say, where do you get that stuff? You better tie a can to it, sis; it don't get over with me. I'm for screen fame, and I'm going to getit too. Why, by the time I'm twenty, I'll betcha I can pull down a salarythat'll make Charlie Chaplin look like an extra! Why, my grin--"

"Your grin you can use on the goats, " Helen May quelled unfeelingly. "Ionly hope it won't scare the poor things to death. You needn't argueabout it--as if I was crazy to go! Do you think I want to leave LosAngeles, and everybody I know, and everything I care about, and go to NewMexico and live like a savage, and raise goats? I'd rather go to jail, ifyou ask me. I hate the very thought of a ranch, Vic Stevenson, and youknow I do. But that doesn't matter a particle. Dad--"

"I told you dad was crazy!" Vic's tone was too violent for grief. Hisyoung ambitions were in jeopardy, and even his dad's death must lookunimportant alongside the greater catastrophe that threatened. "Do youthink, for gosh sake, the whole family's got to be nutty just because hewas sick and got a queer streak?"

"You've no right to say that. Dad--knew what he was doing. "

"Aw, where do you get that dope?" Vic eyed her disgustedly, and with agood deal of condescension. "If you had any sense, you'd knew he wasqueer for days before it happened. _I_ noticed it, all right, and ifyou didn't--"

Helen May did not say anything at all. She got up and went to her roomand came back with Peter's last, pitiful letter. She gave it to Vic andsat down again on the arm of the Mission chair and waited, looking at himfrom, under her lashes, her head tilted forward. 

Vic was impressed, impressed to a round-eyed silence. He knew his dad'shandwriting, and he unfolded the sheet and read what Peter had written. 

"I found that letter in--his hand--that morning. " Helen May tried tokeep her voice steady. "You mustn't tell any one about it, Vic. Theymustn't know. But you see, he--after doing that to get the money for me, why--you see, Vic, we've _got_ to go there. And we've got to make good. We've got to. "

There must have been a little of Peter's disposition in Vic, too. Helay for several minutes staring hard at a patch of sunlight on thefarther wall. I suppose when one is fifteen the ambition to be a moviestar dies just as hard as does later the ambition to be president ofthe United States. 

"You see, don't you, Vic?" Helen May watched him nervously. 

"Well, what do you think I am?" Vic turned upon her with a scowl. "Youmight have said it was for your health. You wasn't playing fair. You--youkept saying it was to raise goats!"

CHAPTER FOUR

STARR WOULD LIKE TO KNOW

Properly speaking Starr did not belong to New Mexico. He was a Texas man, and, until a certain high official asked him to perform a certain missionfor the Secret Service, he had been a ranger. Puns were made upon hisname when he was Ranger Starr, but he was a ranger no longer, and thepuns had ceased to trouble him. His given name was Chauncy DeWitt;perhaps that is why even his closest friends called him Starr, it was somuch easier to say, and it seemed to fit him so much better. 

Ostensibly, and for a buffer to public curiosity, Starr was acting in themodest capacity of cattle buyer for a big El Paso meat company. Incidentally he bought young sheep in season, and chickens from theMexican ranchers, and even a bear that had been shot up in the mountainsvery early in the spring, before the fat had given place to leanness. Whatever else Starr did he kept carefully to himself, but his meat buyingwas perfectly authentic and satisfactory. And if those who knew his pastrecord wondered at his occupation, Starr had plenty of reasons for thechange, and plenty of time in which to explain those reasons. 

As to his personal appearance, there is not a great deal to say. I'mafraid Starr would not have attracted any notice in a crowd. He was atrifle above average height, perhaps, and he had nice eyes whose colormight be a matter of dispute; because they were a bit too dark for gray, a bit too light for real hazel, with tiny flecks of green in certainlights. His lashes were almost heavy enough to be called a mark ofbeauty, and when he took off his hat, which was not often except atmealtime and when he slept in a real bed, there was something veryattractive about his forehead and the way his hair grew on his temples. His mouth was pleasant when his mood was pleasant, but that was notalways. One front tooth had been gold-crowned, which made his smile atrifle conspicuous, but could not be called a disfigurement. For therest, he was tanned to a real desert copper, and riding kept himhealthily lean. But as I said before, you would never pick him out of acrowd as the hero of this story or of any other. 

Like most of us, Starr did not dazzle at the first sight. One must comeinto close contact with him to find him different from any other passablyattractive, intelligent man of the open. Oh, if you must have his age, Ithink he gave it at thirty-one, the last time he was asked, but he mighthave said twenty-five and been believed. He was bashful, and he got onbetter with men than he did with women; but if you will stop to think, most decent men do if they have lived under their hats since they grew tothe long-trouser age. And if they have spent their working days astride astock saddle, you may be sure they are bashful unless they are overboldand impossible. Well, Starr was of the bashful, easily stampeded type. Asto his morals, he smoked and he swore a good deal upon occasion, and hedrank, and he played pool, and now and then a little poker, and he wouldlie for a friend any time it was necessary and think nothing of it. Also, he would fight whenever the occasion seemed to warrant it. He had notbeen to church since he wore square collars starched and spread acrosshis shoulders, and the shine of soap on his cheeks. And a pretty girlwould better not make eyes too boldly if she objected to being kissed, although Starr had never in his life asked a girl to marry him. 

It doesn't sound very promising for a hero. He really was just a humanbeing and no saint. Saint? You wouldn't think so if you had heard whathe said to his horse, Rabbit, just about an hour before you wereintroduced to him. 

Rabbit, it seems had been pacing along, half asleep in the blisteringheat of midday, among the cactus and the greasewood and thosedepressing, yellowish weeds that pretend to be clothing the desert withverdure, when they are merely emphasizing its barrenness. Starr hadbeen half asleep too, riding with one leg over the saddle horn to resthis muscles, and with his hat brim pulled down over his eyebrows toshade his eyes from the pitiless glare of New Mexico sunlight. Rabbitmight be depended upon to dodge the prairie dog holes and rocks anddirt hummocks, day or night, waking or sleeping; and since they wereriding cross-country anyway, miles from a trail, and since they wereheaded for water, and Rabbit knew as well as Starr just where it was tobe found, Starr held the reins slack in his thumb and finger and letthe horse alone. 

That was all right, up to a certain point. Rabbit was a perfectlydependable little range horse, and sensible beyond most horses. He wasambling along at his easy little fox-trot that would carry Starr many amile in a day, and he had his eyes half shut against the sun glare, andhis nose almost at a level with his knees. I suppose he was dreaming ofcool pastures or something like that, when a rattlesnake, coiled in thescant shade of a weed, lifted his tail and buzzed as stridently, asabruptly as thirteen rattles and a button can buzz. 

Rabbit had been bitten once when he was a colt and had gone around withhis head swollen up like a barrel for days. He gave a great, horrifiedsnort, heaved himself straight up in the air, whirled on his hind feetand went bucking across the scenery like a rodeo outlaw. 

Starr did not accompany him any part of the distance. Starr had gone offbackward and lit on his neck, which I assure you is painful anddisturbing to one's whole physical and moral framework. I'll say thismuch for Starr: The first thing he did when he got up was to shoot thehead off the snake, whose tail continued to buzz in a dreary, aimless waywhen there was absolutely nothing to buzz about. Snakes are like that. 

Starr was a little like that, also. He continued to cuss in a fretful, objectless way, even after Rabbit had stopped and waited for him withapology written in the very droop of his ears. When he had remounted, andthe horse had settled again to his straight-backed, shuffling fox-trot, Starr would frequently think of something else to say upon the subject offool horses and snakes and long, dry miles and the interminable desert;but since none of the things would bear repeating, we will let it go atthat. The point is that Starr was no saint. 

He knew of a spring where the water was sweet and cold, and where alonesome young fellow lived by himself and was always glad to see someone ride up to his door. The young fellow was what is called a goodfeeder, and might be depended upon to have a pot of frijoles cooked, andsourdough bread, and stewed fruit of some kind even in his leanest times, and call himself next door to starvation. And if he happened to be infunds, there was no telling; Starr, for instance, had eaten canned plumpudding and potted chicken and maraschino cherries and ginger snaps, allat one sitting, when he happened to strike the fellow just after sellinga few sheep. Thinking of these things, Starr clucked to Rabbit and toldhim for gosh sake to pick his feet off the ground and not to take rootand grow there in the desert like a several-kinds of a so-and-so cactus. 

Rabbit twitched back his ears to catch the drift of Starr's remarks, rattled his teeth in a bored yawn, and shuffled on. Starr laughed. 

"Durn it, why is it you never take me serious?" he complained. "I canname over all the mean things you are, and you just waggle one ear, muchas to say, 'Aw, hell! Same ole tune, and nothing to it but noise. ' Someof these days you're going to get your pedigree read to you--and readright!" He leaned forward and lovingly lifted Rabbit's mane, holding itfor a minute or two away from the sweaty neck. "Sure's hot out hereto-day, ain't it, pardner?" he murmured, and let the mane fall again intoplace. "Kinda fries out the grease, don't it? If young Calvert's got anyhoss-feed in camp, I'm going to beg some off him. Get along, the fasteryou go, the quicker you'll get there. "

The desert gave place to scattered, brown cobblestones of granite. Rabbitpicked his way carefully among these, setting his feet down daintily inthe interstices of the rocks. He climbed a long slope that proved itselfto be a considerable hill when one looked back at the desert below. Thefarther side was more abrupt, and he took it in patient zigzags where thefooting promised some measure of security. At the bottom he turned shortoff to the right and made his way briskly along a rough wagon trail thathugged the hillside. 

"Fresh tracks going in--and then out again, " Starr announced musinglyto Rabbit. "Maybe young Calvert hired a load of grub brought out; that, or he's had a visitor in the last day or two--maybe a week back, though; this dry ground holds tracks a long while. Go on, it's only amile or so now. "

The trail took a sudden turn toward the bottom of the wide depression asthough it wearied of dodging rocks and preferred the loose sand below. Ofhis own accord Rabbit broke into a steady lope, flinging his headsidewise now and then to discourage the pestiferous gnats that swarmedabout his ears. Starr, also driven to action of some kind, began to flinghis hands in long sweeping gestures past his face. He hoped that thecabin, being on a higher bit of ground, would be free from the pests. 

Bounding a sharp turn, Starr glimpsed the cabin and frowned as somethingunfamiliar in its appearance caught his attention. For just a minute hecould not name the change, and then "Curtains at the windows!" hesnorted. "Now, has the dub gone and got married, wonder?" He hoped not, and his hope was born not so much from sympathy with any woman who mustlive in such a place, but from a very humanly, selfish regard for his ownpassing comfort. With a woman in the cabin, Starr would not feel so freeto break his journey there with a rest and a meal or two. 

He went on, however, sitting passively in the saddle while Rabbit headedstraight for the spring. The bit of white curtain at the one small, square window facing that way troubled Starr, though it could not turnhim back thirsty into the desert. 

It was Rabbit who, ignorant of the significance of that flapping bit ofwhite, was taken unawares and ducked sidewise when Helen May, standingprecariously on a rock beside the spring, cupped her hands around hersun-cracked lips and shouted "Vic!" at the top of her voice. She nearlyfell off the rock when she saw the horse and rider so close. They hadcome on her from behind, round another sharp nose of the rock-strewnhillside, so that she did not see them until they had discovered her. 

"Oh!" said Helen May quite flatly, dropping her hands from her sunburnedface and looking Starr over with the self-possessed, inquiring eyes ofone who is accustomed to gazing upon strange faces by the thousands. 

"How do you do?" said Starr, lifting his hat and foregoing instinctivelythe easy "Howdy" of the plains. "Is--Mr. Calvert at home?"

"That depends, " said Helen May, "on where he calls home. He isn'there, however. "

Rabbit, not in the least confused by the presence of a girl in thisout-of-the-way place, pushed forward and thrust his nose deep into thelower pool of the spring where the water was warmed a little by the sunon the rocks. Starr could not think of anything much to say, so he satleaning forward with a hand on Rabbit's mane, and watched the musclesworking along the neck, when the horse swallowed. 

"Oh--would you mind killing that beast down there in that little hollow?"Helen May had decided that it would be silly to keep on shouting for Vicwhen this man was here. "It's what they call a young Gila Monster, Ithink. And the bite is said to be fatal. I don't like the way he keepslooking at me. I believe he's getting ready to jump at me. "

Starr glanced quickly at her face, which was perfectly serious and even atrifle anxious, and then down in the direction indicated by abroken-nailed, pointing finger. He did not smile, though he felt like it. He looked again at Helen May. 

"It's a horned toad, " he informed her gravely. "The one Johnny Calvertkept around for a pet, I reckon. He won't bite--but I'll kill it if yousay so. " He dismounted and picked up a stone, and then looked at heragain inquiringly. 

Helen May eyed the toad askance. "Of course, if it's accustomed to beinga pet--but it looks perfectly diabolical. It--came after me. "

"It thought you would feed it, maybe. "

"Well, I won't. It can think again, " said Helen May positively. "Youneedn't kill it, but if you'd chase it off somewhere out of sight--itgives me shivers. I don't like the way it stares at a person and blinks. "

Starr went over and picked up the toad, holding it cupped between hispalms. He carried it a hundred feet away, set it down gently on thefarther side of a rock, and came back. "Lots of folks keep them forpets, " he said. "They're harmless, innocent things. "

He washed his hands in the pool where Rabbit had drunk, took the tincan that had stood on a ledge in the shade when Starr first came to thespring a year ago, and dipped it full from the inner pool that wasalways cool under the rocks. He turned his back to Helen May and dranksatisfyingly. The can was rusted and it leaked a swift succession ofdrops that was almost a stream. Helen May decided that she would bring awhite granite cup to the spring and throw the can away. It wasunsanitary, and it leaked frightfully, and it was a disgrace tocivilized thirst. 

"Pretty hot, to-day, " Starr observed, when he had emptied the can and putit back. He turned and pulled the reins up along Rabbit's neck and tookthe stirrup in his hand. 

"Oh, won't you stop--for lunch? It's a long way to town. " Helen Mayflushed behind her sunburn, but she felt that the law of the desertdemanded some show of hospitality. 

"Thanks, I must be getting on, " said Starr, touched his hat brim androde away. He had a couple of fried-ham sandwiches in his pocket, andhe ought to make the Medina ranch by two o'clock, he reminded himselfphilosophically. A woman on Johnny Calvert's claim was disconcerting. What was she there for, anyway? From the way she spoke about Johnny, she couldn't be his wife, or if she were, she had a grudge againsthim. She didn't look like the kind of a girl that would marry theJohnny Calvert kind of a man. Maybe she was just stopping there for aday or so, with her folks. Still, that white curtain at the windowlooked permanent, somehow. 

Starr studied the puzzle from all angles. He might have stayed and hadhis curiosity satisfied, but it was second nature with Starr to hide anycuriosity he might feel; his riding matter-of-factly away, as though thegirl were a logical part of the place, was not all bashfulness. Partly itwas habit. He wondered who Vic was--man, woman or child? Man, he guessed, since she was probably calling for help with the horned toad, Starrgrinned when he thought of her naming it a Gila Monster. If she had everseen one of those babies! She must certainly be new to the country, ifshe didn't even know a horned toad when she saw one! What was she doingthere, anyway? Starr meant to find out. It was his business to find out, and besides, he wanted to know. 

CHAPTER FIVE

A GREASE SPOT IN THE SAND

Starr, took his cigarette from his lips, sent an oblique glance of mentalmeasurement towards his host, and shifted his saddle-weary person to amore comfortable position on the rawhide covered couch. He had eaten hisfill of frijoles and tortillas and a chili stew hot enough to crisp thetongue. He had discussed the price of sheep and had with much dickeringbought fifty dry ewes at so much on foot delivered at the nearestshipping point. He had given what news was public talk, of the great warand the supposedly present whereabouts of Villa, and what was guessedwould happen if Mexican money went any lower. 

On his own part, Estancio Medina, called Estan for short, had talked veryfreely of these things. Villa, he was a bad one, sure. He would yet maketrouble if some_body_ didn't catch him, yes. For himself, Estan Medina, he was glad to be on this side the border, yes. The American governmentwould let a poor man alone, yes. He could have his little home and hisfew sheep, and no_body_ would take them away. Villa, he was a bad one!All Mexicans must sure hate Villa--even the men who did his fighting forhim, yes. Burros, that's what they are. Burros, that have no mind forthinking, only to do what is tol'. And if troubles come, all Mexicans inthese country should fight for their homes, you bet. All these Mexicansought to know what's good for them. They got no business to fight gainstthese American gov'ment, not much, they don't. They come here becausethey don't like it no more in Mexico where no poor man can have a homelike here. You bet. 

Estan Medina was willing to talk a long while on that subject. Hismother, sitting just inside the doorway, nodded her head now and then andsmiled just as though she knew what her son was saying; proud of his highlearning, she was. He could talk with the Americanos, and they listenedwith respect. Their language he could speak, better than they could speakit themselves. Did she not know? She herself could now and thenunderstand what he was talking about, he spoke so plainly. 

"You've got new neighbors, I see, " Starr observed irrelevantly, whenEstan paused to relight his cigarette. "Over at Johnny Calvert's, " headded, when Estan looked at him inquiringly. 

"Oh-h, yes! That poor boy and girl! You seen them?"

"I just came from there, " Starr informed him easily. "What brought themaway out here?"

"They not tell, then? That man Calvert, he's a bad one, sure! He don'stay no more--too lazy, I think, to watch his sheeps from the coyotes, and says they're stole. He comes here telling me I got his sheeps--yes. We quarrel a little bit, maybe. I don' like to be called thief, you bet. He's big mouth, that feller--no brains, aitre. Then he goes some_where_, and he tells what fine rancho he's got in Sunlight Basin. These boy andgirl, they buy. That's too bad. They don' belong on these desert, sure. W'at they know about hard life? Pretty soon they get tired, I think, andgo back where comes from. That boy--what for help he be to that girl?Jus' boy--not so old my brother Luis. Can't ride horse; goes up and down, up an' down like he's back goes through he's hat. What that girl do? Jus'slim, big-eye girl with soft hand and sickness of lungs. Babes, them boyand girl. Whan Calvert he should be shot dead for let such inocentes befool like that. "

"Where is Johnny Calvert?"

"Him? He's gone, sure! Not come back, I bet you! He's got money--thembabes got rancho--" Estan lifted his shoulders eloquently. 

"What are they going to do, now they're here?" Starr abstractedly wipedoff the ash collar of his cigarette against the edge of the couch. 

"_Quien sabe_?" countered Estan, and lifted his shoulders again. "I thinkpretty quick they go. "

Starr looked at his watch, yawned, and rose with much evident reluctance. "Same here, " he said. "I've got to make San Bonito in time for thatEastbound. You have the sheep in the stockyards by Saturday, will you? IfI'm not there myself, I'll leave the money with Johnson at the expressoffice. Soon as the sheep's inspected, you can go there and get it. _Addios. Mucho gracias, Señora_. "

"She likes you fine--my mother, " Estan observed, as the two sauntered tothe corral where Rabbit was stowing away as much _secate_ as he couldagainst future hunger. "Sometimes you come and stay longer. We not see somany peoples here. Nobody likes to cross desert when she's hot like this. Too bad you must go now. "

Starr agreed with him and talked the usual small talk of the desertPlaces while he placed the saddle on Rabbit's still sweaty back. He wentaway down the rocky trail with the sun shining full on his right cheek, and was presently swallowed up by the blank immensity of the land thatlooked level as a floor from a distance, but which was a network of smallridges and shallow draws and "dry washes" when one came to ride over it. 

The trail was narrow and had many inconsequential twists and turns in it, as though the first man to travel that way had gone blind or dizzy andcould not hold a straight line across the level. When an automobile, forinstance, traveled that road, it was with many skiddings in the sand onthe turns, which it must take circumspectly if the driver did not carefor the rocky, uneven floor of the desert itself. 

Just lately some one had actually preferred to make his own trail, iftracks told anything. Within half a mile of the Medina rancho Starr sawwhere an automobile had swerved sharply off the trail and had taken tothe hard-packed sand of a dry arroyo that meandered barrenly off to thesoutheast. He turned and examined the trail over which he had traveled, saw that it offered no more discouragement to an automobile than anyother bit of trail in that part of the country, and with another glanceat the yellow ribbon of road before him, he also swerved to thesoutheast. 

For a mile the machine had labored, twisting this way and that to avoidrocky patches or deep cuts where the spring freshets had dug out thelooser soil. So far as Starr could discover there was nothing to bring amachine up here. The arroyo was as thousands of other arroyos in thatcountry. The sides sloped up steeply, or were worn into perpendicularbanks. It led nowhere in particular; it was not a short cut to any placethat he knew of. The trail to Medina's ranch was shorter and smoother, supposing Medina's ranch were the objective point of the trip. 

Starr could not see any sense in it, and that is why he followed thetortuous track to where the machine had stopped. That it had stood therefor some time he knew by the amount of oil that had leaked down into thesand. He did not know for certain, since he did not know the oil-leakinghabits of that particular car, but he guessed that it had stood there fora couple of hours at least before the driver had backed and turned aroundto retrace his way to the trail. 

In these days of gasoline travel one need not be greatly surprised tomeet a car, or see the traces of one, in almost any out-of-the-way spotwhere four wheels can possibly be made to travel. On the other hand, theman at the wheel is not likely to send his machine over rocks and throughsand where the traction is poor, and across dry ditches and amonggreasewood, just for the fun of driving. There is sport with rod or gunto lure, or there is necessity to impel, or the driver is lost and wantsto reach some point that looks familiar, or he is trying to dodgesomething or somebody. 

Starr sat beside that grease spot in the sand and smoked a cigaretteand studied the surrounding hills and tried to decide what had broughtthe car up here. Not sport, unless it was hunting of jack rabbits; andthere were more jack rabbits out on the flat than here. There was notrout stream near, at least, none that was not more accessible fromanother point. To be sure, some tenderfoot tourist might have been toldsome yarn that brought him up here on a wild-goose chase. You can, thought Starr, expect any fool thing of a tourist. He remembered runningacross one that was trying between trains to walk across the mesa fromAlbuquerque to the Sandia mountains. It had been hard to convince thatparticular specimen that he was not within a mile or so of his goal, andthat he would do well to reach the mountains in another three hours orso of steady walking. Compared with that, driving a car up this arroyodid not look so foolish. 

But tourists did not invade this particular locality with theiroverconfident inexperience, and Starr did not give that explanation muchserious thought. Instead he followed on up the narrowed gulch to higherground, to see where men would be most likely to go from there. At thetop he looked out upon further knobs and hollows and aimlessdepressions, just as he had expected. Half a mile or so away theredrifted a thin spiral of smoke, from the kitchen stove of the SeñoraMedina, he guessed. But there was no other sign of human life anywherewithin the radius of many miles, or, to be explicit, within the field ofStarr's vision. 

He looked for footprints, but in a few minutes he gave up in disgust. The ridge he stood on stretched for miles, up beyond Medina's homeranch and down past the Sommers' ranch, five or six miles nearer town, and on to the railroad. And it was a rocky ridge if ever there was one;granite outcroppings, cobblestones, boulders, anything but good loosesoil where tracks might be followed. A dog might have followed a trailthere before the scent was baked out by blistering heat; but Starrcertainly could not. 

He stood looking across to where the smoke curled up into the intenseBlue of the sky. If a man wanted to reach the Medina ranch by the mostobscure route, he thought, this would be one way to get there. He wentback to where the automobile had stood and searched there for some signof those who had ridden this far. But if any man left that machine, hehad stepped from the running board upon rock, and so had left no telltaleprint of his foot. 

"And that looks mighty darn queer, " said Starr, "if it was justaccidental. But if a fellow _wanted_ to take to the rocks to cover histrail, why, he couldn't pick a better place than this. She's a dandyridge and a dandy way to get up on her, if that's what's wanted. " Starrlooked at his watch and gave up all hope of catching the next eastboundtrain, if that had really been his purpose. He lifted his hat and drewhis fingers across his forehead where the perspiration stood in beads, resettled the hat at an angle to shade his face from the glare of thesun, ran two fingers cursorily between the cinch and Rabbit's sweatybody, picked up the stirrup, thrust in his toe and eased himself up intothe saddle; and his mind had not consciously directed a single movement. 

"Well, they've left one mark behind 'em that fair hollers, " he stated, inso satisfied a tone that Rabbit turned his head and looked back at himinquiringly. Starr, you must know, was not given to satisfied tones whenhe and Rabbit were enduring the burden of heat and long miles. "And youneedn't give me that kinda look, neither. Take a look at them tiretracks, you ole knot-head. Them's Silvertown cords, and they ain'tequipping jitneys with cord tires--not yet. Why, yo're whole carcassain't worth the price uh one tire, let alone four, you old sheep. Youshow me the car in this country that's sportin' Silvertowns all around, and I'll show you--"

Just what he would show, Starr did not say, because he did not know. Butthere was something there which might be called a mystery, and wherethere was mystery there was Starr, working tirelessly on the solution. This might be a trivial thing; but until he knew beyond all doubt that itwas trivial, Starr pushed other matters, such as a young woman afraid ofa horned toad, out of his mind that he might study the puzzle from allpossible angles. 

CHAPTER SIX

"DARN SUCH A COUNTRY!"

Helen May stood on the knobby, brown rock pinnacle that formed the headof Sunlight Basin and stared resentfully out over the baked desert andthe forbidding hills and the occasional grassy hollows that stretchedaway and away to the skyline. So clear was the air that every slope, every hollow, every acarpous hilltop lay pitilessly revealed to herunfriendly eyes, until the sheer immensity of distance veiled itsbarrenness in a haze of tender violet. The sky was blue; deeply, intensely blue, with little clouds like flakes of bleached cottonfloating aimlessly here and there. In a big, wild, unearthly way it wasbeautiful beyond any words which human beings have coined. 

Helen May felt its bigness, its wildness, perhaps also its beauty, thoughthe beauties of the desert land do not always appeal to alien eyes. Shefelt its bigness and its wildness; and she who had lived the cramped lifeof the town resented both, because she had no previous experience bywhich to measure any part of it. Also, she summed up all her resentmentand her complete sense of bafflement at its bigness in one vehementsentence that lacked only one word of being a curse. 

"Darn such a country!" is what she said, gritting the words betweenher teeth. 

"See anything of 'em?" bellowed Vic from the spring below, where he wasengaged in dipping up water with a tomato can and pouring it over hishead, shivering ecstatically as the cold trickles ran down his neck. 

Helen May glanced down at him with no softening of her eyes. Vic had lostnine goats out of the flock he had been set to herd, and he failed tomanifest any great concern over the loss. On the contrary, he had toldHelen May that he wished he could lose the whole bunch, and that he hopedcoyotes had eaten them up, if they didn't have sense enough to stay withthe rest. There had been a heated argument, and Helen May had not feltsure of coming out of it a victor. 

"No, I didn't, and you'd better get back to work or the rest will begone, too, " she called down to him petulantly. "It's bad enough to losenine, without letting the rest go. "

"Aw, 's matter with yuh, anyway?" Vic retorted in a tone he thought wouldnot reach her ears. "By gosh, you don't want a feller to cool off, even!By gosh, you'd make a feller _sleep_ with them darned goats if you couldget away with it! Bu-lieve _me_, anybody can have my job that wants it. 'S hot enough to fry eggs in the shade, and she thinks, by hen, that Ioughta stay out there--"

"Yes, I do. And if you want anything to eat to-night, Vic Stevenson, youget right back there with those goats! They're going over the hill thisminute. Hurry, Vic! For heaven's sake, are you trying to take a _bath_ inthat can? Climb up that ridge and cut across and head them off! That oldBilly's headed for town again--hurry!"

"Aw for gosh sake!" grumbled Vic, stooping reluctantly to pick up the oldhoe-handle he used for a staff. "What ridge?" He paused to thunder up ather, his voice unexpectedly changing to a shrill falsetto on the lastword, as frequently happens to rob a mancub of his dignity just when heneeds it most. 

"That ridge before your face, chump, " Helen May informed him crossly. "Ifit comes to choosing between goats and a boy, I'll take the goats! And ifthere's any spot on the face of the earth worse than this, I'd like toknow where it is. The idea of expecting people to live in such a country!It looks for all the world like magnified pictures of the moon's surface. And, " she added with a dreary kind of vindictiveness, "it's here, and I'mhere. I can't get away from it--that's the dickens of it. " Then, becauseHelen May had a certain impish sense of humor, she sat down and laughedat the incongruity of it all. "Me--me, here in the desert trying toraise goats! Can you beat that?"

She watched Vic toiling up the ridge, using the hoe-handle with a slavishdependence upon its support that tickled Helen May again. "You'd think, "she told the scenery for want of other companionship, "you'd think Vicwas seventy-nine years old at the very least. Makes a difference whetherhe's after a bunch of tame goats or hiking with a bunch of boy scouts tothe top of Mount Wilson! I don't believe that kid ever did wear his legsout having fun, and it's a sure thing he'll never wear them out working!Say goats to him and he actually gets round-shouldered and limps. "

Vic disappeared over the ridge beyond the spring. Lower down, where theridge merged into the Basin itself, the big curly-horned Billy that hadcost Helen May more than any half dozen of his followers stepped outbriskly at the head of the band. Helen May wondered what new depravitywas in his mind, and whether Vic would cross the gully he was in andconfront Billy in time to change the one idea that seemed always topossess that animal. 

Helen May did not know how vitally important it is to have a good dog atsuch work. She did not know that Billy and his band felt exactly likeboys who have successfully eluded a too lax teacher, and that they wouldhave yielded without argument to the bark of a trained sheep dog. She hadset Vic a harder task than she realized; a task from which anyexperienced herder would have shrunk. In her ignorance she blamed Vic, and called him lazy and careless and a few other sisterly epithets whichhe did not altogether deserve. 

She watched now, impatient because he was so long in crossing the gully;telling herself that he was trying to see how slow he could be, and thathe did it just to be disagreeable and to irritate her--as if she werethere of her own desire, and had bought those two hundred miserablegoats to spite him. Harmony, as you must see, did not always dwell inSunlight Basin. 

Eventually Vic toiled up the far side of the gully, which was deep and ashot as an oven, and followed it down within rock-throwing distance of thegoats. A well-aimed pebble struck Billy on the curve of one horn andhalted him, the band huddling vacant-eyed behind him. Vic aimed and threwanother, and Billy, turning his whiskered face upward, stared withresentful head-tossings and a defiant blat or two before he swerved backinto the Basin, his band and Vic plodding after. 

"Well, for a wonder!" Helen May ejaculated ungraciously, grudging Victhe small tribute of praise that was due him. But she was immediatelyashamed of that, and told herself that it was pretty hard on the poorkid, and that after all he must hate the country worse than she did, even, which would certainly mean a good deal; and that she supposed hemissed his boy chums just as much as she missed her friends, and found itjust as hard to fit himself comfortably into a life for which he had noliking. Besides, it wasn't his health that had shunted them both out hereinto the desert, and she ought to be ashamed of herself for treating himthe way she did. 

After that she decided that it was her business to find the nine goatsthat were lost. Vic certainly could not do both at once; and deep down inher heart Helen May knew that she was terribly afraid of Billy and wouldrather trudge the desert for hours under the hot sun than stay in theBasin watching the main flock. She wished that she could afford to hire aherder, but she shrunk from the expense. It seemed to her that she andVic should be able to herd that one band, especially since there wasnothing else for them to do out there except cook food and eat it. 

Speaking of food, it seemed to take an enormous quantity to satisfy thehunger of two persons. Helen May was appalled at the insatiable appetiteof Vic, who seemed never to have enough in his stomach. As forherself--well, she recalled the meal she had just eaten, and wondered howit could be possible for hunger to seize upon her so soon again. But evenso, food could not occupy all of their time, and a two-room cabin doesnot take much keeping in order. They would simply be throwing away moneyif they hired a herder, and yet, how they both did loathe those goats!

She climbed back down the pinnacle, watching nervously for snakes andlizards and horned toads and such denizens of the desert. With acertain instinct for preparing against the worst, she took a two-quartcanteen, such as soldiers carry, to the spring, and filled it and slungit over her shoulder. She went to the cabin and made a couple ofsandwiches, and because she was not altogether inhuman she cut twothick slices of bread, spread them lavishly with jam, and carried themto Vic as a peace offering. 

"I'm going to hunt those nasty brutes, Vic, " she cried from a safedistance. "Come here and get this jam sandwich, and lend me that stickyou've got. And if I don't get back by five, you start a fire. "

"Where you going to look? If you couldn't see 'em from up there, I don'tsee the use of hunting. " Vic was taking long steps towards the sandwich, and he stretched his sunburned face in that grin which might have madehim famous in comedy had fate not set him down before his present ignobletask. "Yuh don't want to go far, " he advised her perfunctorily. "We oughtto have a couple of saddle horses. Why don't yuh--"

"What would we feed them on? Besides we've got to save what money we'vegot, Vic. We can walk till these insects grow wool enough to pay forsomething to ride on. "

"Hair, you mean. I can get a gentle horse from that Mexican kid, Luis. Hegood as offered us the one--that I borrowed--" Vic was giving too muchattention to the jam sandwich to argue very coherently. 

"There's that old Billy starting off again; you watch him, Vic. Don't lethim get a start, or goodness knows where he'll head for next. We can'tkeep a horse, I tell you. We need all this grass for the goats. "

"Oh, darn the goats!"

In her heart Helen May quite agreed with the sentiment, but she could notconsistently betray that fact to Vic. She therefore turned her back uponhim, walking down the trail that led out of the Basin to the main trail amile away, the trail which was the link connecting them with civilizationof a sort. 

Here passed the depressed, dust-covered stage three times a week. Here, in a macaroni box mounted on a post, they received and posted theirmail. Helen May had indulged herself in a subscription to the LosAngeles daily paper that had always been left at their door everymorning, the paper which Peter had read hastily over his morning mush. Every paper brought a pang of homesickness for the flower-decked city ofher birth, but she felt as though she could not have kept her sanitywithout it. The full-page bargain ads she read hungrily. The weeklyannouncements of the movie shows, the news, the want columns--these wereat once her solace and her torment; and if you have ever been exiled, you know what that means. 

Here, too, she left her shopping list and money for the stage driver, whobought what she needed and left the goods at the foot of the post, andwhat money remained in a buckskin bag in the macaroni box. 

An obliging stage driver was he, a tobacco chewing, red-faced, red-whiskered stage driver who nagged at his four horses incessantly andnever was known to beat one of them; a garrulous, soft-hearted stagedriver who understood very well how lonely these two young folks must be, and who therefore had some moth-eaten joke ready for whoever might bewaiting for him at the macaroni box. Whenever Helen May apologized forthe favor she must ask of him--which was every time she handed him alist--the stage driver invariably a nasal kind of snort, spat far outover the wheel, and declared pettishly:

"It ain't a mite uh trouble in the world. That's what I'm _fur_--to helpfolks out along my rowt. Don't you worry a mite about that. " Often as hesaid it, he yet gave it the tone of sincerity and of convincingfreshness, as though he had never before given the matter a thought. Helen May did not know what she would have done without that stage driverto bridge the gulf between Sunlight Basin and the world. 

But this was not stage day. That is to say, the stage had passed to thefar side of its orbit, and would not return until to-morrow. From SanBonito it swung in a day-long journey across the desert to Malpais, thence by a different route to San Bonito again, so that Helen May neversaw it returning whence it had come. 

A cloud of desert dust always heralded its approach from the east. Sometimes after the first dust signal, it took him nearly an hour to topthe low ridge which was really one rim of the Basin. Then Helen May wouldknow that he carried passengers or freight that straightened the backs ofthe straining four horses in the long stretch of sand beyond the ridgeand made their progress slow. 

But to-day there was no dust signal, and the macaroni box was but adismal reminder of her exile. The world was very far away, behind theviolet rim of mountains, and she was just a speck in the desert. Her highlaced boots were heavy, and the dust settled in the creases around herslim ankles, that could be perfectly fascinating in silken hose anddainty slippers. Her khaki skirt, of the divided kind much affected bytourists, had lost two big, pearl buttons, and she had no others toreplace them. Her shirt-waist had its collar turned inside for coolness, and the hollow of her neck was sun-blistered and beginning to peel. Alsoher nose and her neck at the sides were showing a disposition to grow newskin for old. So much had the desert sun done for her. 

But there was something else which the desert had done, something whichHelen May did not fully realize. It had put a clear, steady look into hereyes in place of the glassy shine of fever. It was beginning to fill outthat hollow in her neck, so that it no longer showed the angular ends ofher collar bones. It had put a resilient quality into her walk, firmnessinto the poise of her head. It had made it physically possible, forinstance, for Helen May to trudge out into the wild to hunt nine goatsthat had strayed from the main band. 

Though she did not know it, a certain dream of Peter's had very nearlycome true. For here were the vast plains, unpeopled, pure, immutable intheir magnificent calm. At night the stars seemed to come down and hangjust over Helen May's head. There was the little cottage of which Peterhad dreamed--only Helen May called it a miserable little shack--hunchedagainst a hill; sometimes a light winked through the window at the stars;sometimes Helen May was startled at the nearness and the shrillinsistence of the coyotes. Here as Peter had dreamed so longingly and sohopelessly, were distance and quiet and calm. And here was Helen Maycoming through the sunlight--Peter never dreamed how hot it wouldbe!--with her deep-gold hair tousled in the wind and with the little redspots gone from her cheeks and with health in her eyes that were thecolor of ripe chestnuts. When her skin had adjusted itself to the rigorsof the climate, she would no doubt have freckles on her nose, just asPeter had dreamed she might have. And if she were walking, instead ofriding the gentle-eyed pony which Peter had pictured, that was notPeter's fault, nor the fault of the dream. There was no laugh on herlips, however. Dreams are always pulling a veil of idealism over the faceof reality, and so Helen May's face was not happy, as Peter had dreamedit might be, but petulant and grimly determined; her ripe-red lips weremoving in anathemas directed at nine detested goats. 

Peter could never have dreamed just that, but all the same it is a pitythat, in order to make the dream a reality, Peter had been forced to denyhimself the joy of seeing Helen May growing strong in "Arizona, NewMexico, or Colorado. " It would have made the price he paid seem lessterrible, less tragic. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

MOONLIGHT, A MAN AND A SONG

Just out from the entrance to a deep, broad-bottomed arroyo where anautomobile had been, Starr came upon something that surprised him verymuch, and it was not at all easy to surprise Starr. Here, in the firstglory of a flaming sunset that turned the desert to a sea of unearthly, opal-tinted beauty, he came upon Helen May, trudging painfully along withan old hoe-handle for a staff, and driving nine reluctant nanny goatsthat alternately trotted and stood still to stare at the girl withfoolish, amber-colored eyes. 

Starr was trained to long desert distances, but his training had made itsecond nature to consider a horse the logical means of covering thosedistances. To find Helen May away out here, eight miles and more fromSunlight Basin, and to find her walking, shocked Starr unspeakably;shocked him out of his shyness and into free speech with her, as thoughhe had known her a long while. 

"Y' _lost_?" was his first greeting, while he instinctively swung Rabbitto head off a goat that suddenly "broke back" from the others. 

Helen May looked up at him with relief struggling through the apathy ofutter weariness. "No, but I might as well be. I'll never be able to gethome alive, anyhow. " She shook the hoe-handle menacingly at a hesitatinggoat and quite suddenly collapsed upon the nearest rock, and began tocry; not sentimentally or weakly or in any other feminine manner known toStarr, but with an angry recklessness that was like opening a safetyvalve. Helen May herself did not understand why she should go along forhalf a day calmly enough, and then, the minute this man rode up and spoketo her sympathetically, she should want to sit down and cry. 

"I just--I've been walking since one o'clock! If I had a gun, I'd shootevery one of them. I just--I think goats are simply _damnable_ things!"

Starr turned and looked at the animals disapprovingly. "They sure are, "he assented comfortingly. "Where you trying to take 'em--or ain't you?"he asked, with the confidence-inviting tone that made him so valuable tothose who paid for his services. 

"Home, if you can call it that!" Helen May found her handkerchief andproceeded to wipe the tears and the dust off her cheeks. She looked atStarr more attentively than at first when he had been just a human beingwho seemed friendly. "Oh, you're the man that stopped at the spring. Well, you know where I live, then. I was hunting these; they wandered offand Vic couldn't find them yesterday, so I--it was just accident that Icame across them. I followed some tracks, and it looked to me as ifthey'd been driven off. There were horse tracks. That's what made me keepgoing--I was so mad. And now they won't go home or anywhere else. Theyjust want to run around every which way. "

Starr looked up the arroyo, hesitating. On the edge of San Bonito he hadpicked up the track of Silvertown cord tires, and he had followed it tothe mouth of this arroyo. From certain signs easy for an experienced manto read, he had known the track was fairly fresh, fresh enough to make itworth his while to follow. And now here was a girl all tired out and along way from home. 

"Here, you climb onto Rabbit. He's gentle when he knows it's all right, and I won't stand for him acting up. " Starr swung off beside her. "I'llhelp get the goats home. Where's your dog?"

"I haven't any dog. The man we bought the goats from wanted to sell meone, to help herd them, he said. But he asked twenty-five dollars forit--I suppose he thought because I looked green I'd stand for that!--andI wouldn't be held up that way. Vic and I have nothing to do but watchthem. You--you mustn't bother, " she added half-heartedly. "I can get themhome all right. I'm rested now, and there's a moon, you know. Really, Ican't let you bother about it. I know the way. "

"Put your foot in the stirrup and climb on. You, Rabbit, you stand still, or I'll beat the--"

"Really, you mustn't think, because I cried a little bit--"

"Pile on to him now, while I hold him still. Or shall I pick you up and_put_ you on?" Starr smiled while he said it, but there was a look in hiseyes and around his mouth that made Helen May yield suddenly. 

By her awkwardness Starr and Rabbit both knew that she had probably neverbefore attempted to mount a horse. By the set of her lips Starr knew thatshe was afraid, but that she would break her neck before she wouldconfess her fear. He liked her for that, and he was glad to see thatRabbit understood the case and drew upon his reserve of patience and goodnature, standing like a rock until Helen May was settled in the saddleand Starr had turned the stirrups on their sides in the leather so thatthey would come nearer being the right length for her. Starr's handsliding affectionately up Rabbit's neck and resting a moment on his jawwas all the assurance Rabbit needed that everything was all right. 

"Now, just leave the reins loose, and let Rabbit come along to pleasehimself, " Starr instructed her quietly. "He'll follow me, and he'll pickhis own trail. You don't have to do a thing but sit there and take iteasy. He'll do the rest. "

Helen May looked at him doubtfully, but she did not say anything. Shebraced herself in the stirrups, took a firm grip of the saddlehorn withone hand, and waited for what might befall. She had no fear of Starr, nofurther uneasiness over the coming night, the loneliness, the goats, oranything else. She felt as irresponsible, as safe, as any sheltered womanin her own home. I did not say she felt serene; she did not know yet howthe horse would perform; but she seemed to lay that responsibility alsoon Starr's capable shoulders. 

They moved off quietly enough, Starr afoot and driving the goats, Rabbitpicking his way after him in leisurely fashion. So they crossed thearroyo mouth and climbed the ragged lip of its western side and traveledstraight toward the flaming eye of the sun that seemed now to have winkeditself nearly shut. The goats for some inexplicable reason showed nofurther disposition to go in nine different directions at once. HelenMay relaxed from her stiff-muscled posture and began to experiment alittle with the reins. 

"Why, he steers easier than an automobile!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Youjust think which way you want to go, almost, and he does it. And youdon't have to pull the lines the least bit, do you?"

Starr delayed his answer until he had made sure that she was notirritating Rabbit with a too-officious guidance. When he saw that shewas holding the reins loosely as he had told her to do, and was merelylaying the weight of a rein on one side of the neck and then on theother, he smiled. 

"I guess you've rode before, " he hazarded. "The way you neck-rein--"

"No, honest. But my chum's brother had a big six, and Sundays he used tolet me fuss with it, away out where the road was clear. It steered justlike this horse; just as easy, I mean. I--why, see! I just _wondered_ ifhe'd go to the right of that bush, and he turned that way just as if I'dtold him to. Can you beat that?"

Starr did not say. Naturally, since she was a girl, and pretty, and sincehe was human, he was busy wondering what her chum's brother was like. Hepicked up a small rock and shied it at a goat that was not doing a thingthat it shouldn't do, and felt better. He remembered then that at anyrate her chum's brother was a long way off, and that he himself hadnothing much to complain of right now. Then Helen May spoke again andshifted his thoughts to another subject. 

"I believe I'd rather have a horse like this, " she said, "than own thatbig, lovely take-me-to-glory car that was pathfinding around like amillion dollars, a little while ago. I'll own up now that I was weepingpartly because four great big porky men could ride around on cushions afoot thick, while a perfectly nice girl had to plough through the sandafoot. The way they skidded past me and buried me in a cloud of dust mademe mad enough to throw rocks after them. Pigs! They never even stopped toask if I wanted a ride or anything. They all glared at me through theirgoggles as if I hadn't any business walking on their desert. "

"Did you know them?" Starr came and walked beside her, glancingfrequently at her face. 

"No, of course I didn't. I don't know anybody but the stage driver. Iwouldn't have ridden with them, anyway. From what I saw of them theylooked like Mexicans. But you'd think they might have shown someinterest, wouldn't you?"

"I sure would, " Starr stated with emphasis. "What kinda car was it, didyou notice? Maybe I know who they are. "

"Oh, it was a great big black car. They went by so fast and I was sotired and hot and--and pretty near swearing mad, I didn't notice thenumber at all. And they were glaring at me, and I was glaring at them, and then the driver stepped on the accelerator just at a little crook inthe road, and the hind wheels skidded about a ton of sand into my faceand they were gone, like they were running from a speed cop. I'd muchrather have a nice little automatic pony like this one, " she addedfeelingly. "You don't have to bundle yourself up in dusters and gogglesand things when you take a ride, do you? It--it makes the bigness of thecountry, and the barrenness of it, somehow fit together and take you intothe pattern, when you ride a horse over it, don't you think?"

"I guess so, " Starr assented, with an odd little slurring accent on thelast word which gave the trite sentence an individual touch thatappealed to Helen May. "It don't seem natural, somehow, to walk in acountry like this. "

"Oh, and you've got to, while I ride your horse! Or, have you got to? Isit just movie stuff, where a man rides behind on a horse, and lets thegirl ride in front? I mean, is it feasible, or just a stunt forpictures?"

"Depends on the horse, " Starr evaded. "It's got the say-so, mostly, whether it'll pack one person or two. Rabbit will, and when I get tiredwalking, I'll ride. "

"Oh, that makes it better. I wasn't feeling comfortable riding, but menare so queer about thinking they must give a woman all the choice bits ofcomfort, and a woman has to give in or row about it. If you'll climb upand ride when you feel like it, I'll just settle down and enjoy myself. "

Settling down and enjoying herself seemed to consist of gazing out overthe desert and the hills and up at the sky that was showing the deeppurple of dusk. It was what Starr wanted most of all, just then, for itleft him free to study what she had told him of the big black automobilewith four coated and goggled men who had looked like Mexicans; four menwho had glared at her and then had speeded up to get away from herpossible scrutiny. 

For the first time since she had seen it from the spring seat of ajolting wagon from the one livery stable in Malpais, Helen May discoveredthat this wild, strange land was beautiful. For the first time shegloried in its bigness and its wildness, and did not resent itsbarrenness. The little brown birds that fluttered close to the ground andcheeped wistfully to one another in the dusk gave her an odd, sweetthrill of companionship. Jack rabbits sitting up on their hind legs fora brief scrutiny before they scurried away made her laugh to herself. Thereddened clouds that rimmed the purple were the radiant shores of awonderful, bottomless sea, where the stars were the mast lights on shipshull down in the distance. She lifted her chest and drew in long breathsof clean, sweet air that is like no other air, and she remembered all atonce that she had not coughed since daylight. She breathed again, deepand long, and felt that she was drawing some wonderful, healing etherinto her lungs. 

She looked at Starr, walking steadily along before her, swinging thehoe-handle lightly in his right hand, setting his feet down in thesmoothest spots always and leaving nearly always a clear imprint of hisfoot in the sandy soil. There was a certain fascination in watching thelines of footprints he left behind him. She would know those footprintsanywhere, she told herself. Small for a man, they were, and well-shaped, with the toes pointing out the least little bit, and with no blurringdrag when he lifted his feet. She did not know that Starr wore ridingboots made to his measure and costing close to twenty dollars a pair; ifshe had she would not have wondered at the fine shape of them, or at theindividuality of the imprint they made. She conceived the belief thatRabbit knew those footprints also. She amused herself by watching howcarefully the horse followed wherever they led. If Starr stepped to theright to avoid a rock, Rabbit stepped to the right to avoid that rock;never to the left, though the way might be as smooth and open. If Starrcrossed a gully at a certain place, Rabbit followed scrupulously thetracks he made. Helen May considered that this little gray horse showedreally human intelligence. 

She realized the deepening dusk only when Starr's form grew vague andshe could no longer see the prints his boots made. They were nearing thebrown, lumpy ridge which hid Sunlight Basin from the plain, but HelenMay was not particularly eager to reach it. For the first time sheforgot the gnawing heart-hunger of homesickness, and was content withher present surroundings; content even with the goats that trottedsubmisively ahead of Starr. 

When a soft radiance drifted into the darkness and made it a luminous, thin veil, Helen May gave a little cry and looked back. Since her handsmoved with the swing of her shoulders, Rabbit turned sharply and facedthe way she was looking, startled, displeased, but obedient. Starrstopped abruptly and turned back, coming close up beside her. 

"What's wrong?" he asked in an undertone. "See anything?"

"The moon, " Helen May gave a hushed little laugh. "I'dforgotten--forgotten I was alive, almost. I was just soaking in thebeauty of it through every pore. And then it got dark so I couldn't seeyour footprints any more, and then such a queer, beautiful look came oneverything. I turned to look, and this little automatic pony turned tolook, too. But--isn't it wonderful? Everything, I mean. Justeverything--the whole world and the stars and the sky--"

Starr lifted an arm and laid it over Rabbit's neck, fingering thesilver-white mane absently. It brought him quite close to Helen May, sothat she could have put her hand on his shoulder. 

"Yes. It's wonderful--when it ain't terrible, " he said, his voice low. 

After a silent minute she answered him, in the hushed tone that seemedmost in harmony with the tremendous sweep of sky and that great stretchof plain and bare mountain. "I see what you mean. It is terrible evenwhen it's most wonderful. But one little human alone with it would be--"

"Sh-sh. " he whispered. "Listen a minute. Did you ever _hear_ a bigsilence like this?"

"No, " she breathed eagerly. "Sh-sh--"

At first there was nothing save the whisper of a breeze that stirred thegreasewood and then was still. Full in their faces the moon swung clearof the mountains behind San Bonito and hung there, a luminous yellow ballin the deep, star-sprinkled purple. Across the desert it flung a faint, straight pathway in the sand. Rabbit gave a long sigh, turned his head tolook back at his master, and then stood motionless again. Far on ahilltop a coyote pointed his nose to the moon and yap-yap-yapped, with ashrill, long-drawn tremolo wail that made the girl catch her breath. Behind them the nine goats moved closer together and huddled afraidbeside a clump of bushes. The little breeze whispered again. A night birdcalled in a hurried, frightened way, and upon the last notes came theeerie cry of a little night owl. 

The girl's face was uplifted, delicately lighted by the moon. Her eyesshone dark with those fluttering, sweet wraiths of thoughts which we maynot prison in speech, which words only deaden and crush into vapidsentimentalism. Life, held in a great unutterable calm, seemed to lie outthere in the radiant, vague distance, asleep and smiling crypticallywhile it slept. 

Her eyes turned to Starr, whose name she did not know; who had twice comeriding out of the distance to do her some slight service before he rodeon into the distance that seemed so vast. Who was he? What petty round ofduties and pleasures made up his daily, intimate life? She did not know. She did not feel the need of knowing. 

Standing there with his thin face turned to the moon so that she saw, clean-cut against the night, his strong profile; with one arm thrownacross the neck of his horse and his big hat tilted back so that shecould see the heavy, brown hair that framed his fine forehead; with thelook of a dreamer in his eyes and the wistfulness of the lonely on hislips, all at once he seemed to be a part of the desert and its mysteries. 

She could picture him living alone somewhere in its wild fastness, alooffrom the little things of life. He seemed to epitomize vividly themeaning of a song she had often sung unmeaningly:

"From the desert I come to thee, On my Arab shod with fire;And the winds are left behindIn the speed of my desire. "

While she looked--while the words of that old _Bedouin Love Song_thrummed through her memory, quite suddenly Starr began to sing, takingup the song where her memory had brought her:

"Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!"

Softly he sang, as though he had forgotten that she was there. Softly, but with a resonant, vibrating quality that made the words alive andquivering with meaning. 

Helen May caught her breath. How did he know she was thinking that song?How did he chance to take it up just at the point where her memory hadcarried it? Had he read her mind? She stared at him, her lips parted;wondering, a little awed, but listening and thrilling to the humansweetness of his tones. And when he had sung the last yearning note ofprimitive desire, Starr turned his head and looked into her eyes. 

Helen May felt as though he had taken her in his arms and kissed herlingeringly. Yet he had not moved except to turn his face toward her. Shecould not look away, could not even try to pull her eyes from his. It wasas though she yielded. She felt suffocated, though her breath camequickly, a little unevenly. 

Starr looked away, across the desert where the moon lighted it whitely. It was as though he had released her. She felt flustered, disconcerted. She could not understand herself or him, or the primary forces that hadmoved them both. And why had he sung that _Bedouin Love Song_ just as shewas thinking it as something that explained him and identified him? Itwas mysterious as the desert itself lying there so quiet under the moon. It was weird as the cry of the coyote. It was uncanny as spirit rappings. But she could not feel any resentment; only a thrill that was partpleasure and part pain. She wondered if he had felt the same; if he knew. But she could not bring herself to face even the thought of asking him. It was like the night silence around them: speech would dwarf and cheapenand distort. 

Rabbit lifted his head again, perking his ears forward toward a new soundthat had nothing weird or mysterious about it; a sound that wasessentially earthly, material, modern, the distant purr of a high-poweredautomobile on the trail away to their right. Starr turned his face thatway, listening as the horse listened. It seemed to Helen May as though hehad become again earthy and material and modern, with the desert lovesong but the fading memory of a dream. He listened, and she received theimpression that something more than idle curiosity held him intent uponthe sound. 

The purring persisted, lessened, grew louder again. Starr still lookedthat way, listening intently. The machine swept nearer, so that the clearnight air carried the sounds distinctly to where they stood. Starr evencaught the humming of the rear gears and knew that only now and then doesa machine have that peculiar, droning hum; Starr studied it, tried toimpress the sound upon his memory. 

The trail looped around the head of a sandy draw and wound over the crestof a low ridge before it straightened out for a three-mile level run inthe direction of San Bonito, miles away. In walking, Starr had cutstraight across that gully and the loop, so that they had crossed thetrail twice in their journey thus far, and were still within half a mileof the head of the loop. They should have been able to see the lights, orat least the reflection of them on the ridge when they came to the draw. But there was no bright path on sky or earth. 

They heard the car ease down the hill, heard the grind of the gears asthe driver shifted to the intermediate for the climb that came after. They heard the chug of the engine taking the steep grade. Then theyshould have caught the white glare of the headlights as the car toppedthe ridge. Starr knew that nothing obstructed the view, that in daylightthey could have seen the yellow-brown ribbon of trail where it curvedover the ridge. The machine was coming directly toward them for a shortdistance, but there was no light whatever. Starr knew then that whoeverthey were, they were running without lights. 

"Well, I guess we'd better be ambling along, " he said casually, when theautomobile had purred its way beyond hearing. "It's three or four milesyet, and you're tired. "

"Not so much. " Helen May's voice was a little lower than usual, but thatwas the only sign she gave of any recent deep emotion. "I'd as soon walkawhile and let you ride. " She shrank now from the thought of both riding. 

"When you've ridden as far as I have, " said Starr, "you'll know it's arest to get down and travel afoot for a few miles. " He might have addedthat it would have been a rest had he not been hampered by thosehigh-heeled riding boots, but consideration for her mental ease did notpermit him to mention it. He said no more, but started the goats ahead ofhim and kept them moving in a straight line for Sunlight Basin. Asbefore, Rabbit followed slavishly in his footsteps, nose dropped to theangle of placid acceptance, ears twitching forward and back so that hewould lose no slightest sound. 

Helen May fell again under the spell of the desert and the moon. Starr, walking steadily through the white-lighted barrenness with his shadowalways moving like a ghost before him, fitted once more into the desert. Again she repeated mentally the words of the song:

Let the night-winds touch thy browWith the breath of my burning sigh, And melt thee to hear the vowOf a love that shall not die!

Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!

And now the lines sung themselves through her brain with the memory ofStarr's voice. But Starr did not sing again, though Helen May, curious toknow if her thoughts held any power over him, gazed intently at his backand willed him to sing. He did not look back at her, even when shefinally descended weakly to the more direct influence of humming the airsoftly--but not too softly for him to hear. 

Starr paid no attention whatever. He seemed to be thinking deeply--but hedid not seem to be thinking of Helen May, nor of desert love songs. HelenMay continued to watch him, but she was piqued at his calm indifference. Why, she told herself petulantly, he paid more attention to those goatsthan he did to her--and one would think, after that song and thatlook. .. . But there she stopped, precipitately retreating from the thoughtof that look. 

He was a queer fellow, she told herself with careful tolerance and alittle condescension. A true product of the desert; as changeable and assphynxlike and as impossible from any personal, human standpoint. Lookhow beautiful the desert could be, how terribly uplifting and calmand--and big. Yet to-morrow it might be either a burning waste of heatand sand and bare rock, or it might be a howling waste of wind and sand(if one of those sand storms came up). To herself she called him the Manof the Desert, and she added the word mysterious, and she also added twolines of the song because they fitted exactly her conception of him asshe knew him. The lines were these:

From the desert I come to thee, On my Arab shod with fire. 

This, in spite of the fact that Rabbit had none of the fiery traits of anArabian steed; nor could he by any stretch of the imagination be accusedof being shod with fire, he who planted his hoofs so sedately! Shod withvelvet would have come nearer describing him. 

So Helen May, who was something of a dreamer when Life let her alone longenough, rode home through the moonlight and wove cloth-of-gold from themagic of the night, and with the fairy fabric she clothed Starr--who was, as we know, just an ordinary human being--so that he walked before her, not as a plain, ungrammatical, sometimes profane young man who washelping her home with her goats, but a mysterious, romantic figureevolved somehow out of the vastness in which she lived; who wouldpresently recede again into the mysterious wild whence he had come. 

It was foolish. She knew that it was foolish. But she had been livingrather harshly and rather materially for some time, and she hungered forthe romance of youth. Starr was the only person who had come to heruntagged by the sordid, everyday petty details of life. It did not hurthim to be idealized, but it might have hurt Helen May a little to knowthat he was pondering so earthly a subject as a big, black automobilecareering without lights across the desert and carrying four men wholooked like Mexicans. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

HOLMAN SOMMEKS, SCIENTIST

Helen May, under a last year's parasol of pink silk from which the sunhad drawn much of its pinkness and the wind and dust its freshness, satbeside the road with her back against the post that held the macaronibox, and waited for the stage. Her face did not need the pink light ofthe parasol, for it was red enough after that broiling walk of yesterday. The desert did not look so romantic by the garish light of midday, butshe stared out over it and saw, as with eyes newly opened toappreciation, that there was a certain charm even in its garishness. Shehad lost a good deal of moodiness and a good deal of discontent, somewhere along the moonlight trail of last night, and she hummed a tunewhile she waited. No need to tell you that it was: "_Till the sun growscold, till the stars are old_--" No need to tell you, either, of whom shewas thinking while she sang. 

But part of the time she was wondering what mail she would get. Her chumwould write, of course; being a good, faithful chum, she would probablycontinue to write two or three letters a week for the next three months. After that she would drop to one long letter a month for awhile; andafter that--well, she was a faithful chum, but life persists in bearingone past the eddy that holds friendship circling round and round in apool of memories. The chum's brother had written twice, however;exuberant letters full of current comedy and full-blooded cheerfulnessand safely vague sentiment which he had partly felt at the time he wrote. He had "joshed" Helen May a good deal about the goats, even to the extentof addressing her as "Dear Goat-Lady" in the last letter, with the word"Lady" underscored and scrawled the whole width of the page. Helen Mayhad puzzled over the obscure meaning of that, and had decided that itwould have sounded funny, perhaps, if he had said it that way, but thatit "didn't get over" on paper. 

She wondered if he would write again, or if his correspondence wouldprove as spasmodic, as easily interrupted as his attentions had been whenthey were both in the same town. Chum's brother was a nice, big, comfykind of young man; the trouble was that he was too popular to give allhis interest to one girl. You know how it is when a man stands six feettall and has wavy hair and a misleading smile and a great, big, deep-cushioned roadster built for two. Helen May appreciated his writingtwo letters to her, he who hated so to write letters, but her faith inthe future was small. Still, he might write. It seemed worth while towait for the stage. 

Just when she was telling herself that the stage was late, far over theridge rose the dust signal. Her pulse quickened expectantly; so much hadloneliness done for her. She watched it, and she tried not to admit toherself that it did not look like the cloud kicked up by the fourtrotting stage horses. She tried not to believe that the cloud was muchtoo small to have been made by their clattering progress. It must be thestage. It was past time for it to arrive at the post. And it had not goneby, for she had sent for a can of baking powder and a dozen lemons andfifty cents worth of canned milk (the delicatessen habit of buying insmall quantities still hampered her) and, even if the stage had passedearlier than usual, the stuff would have been left at the post for her, even though there was no mail. But it could not have passed. She wouldhave seen the dust, that always hung low over the trail like the droopingtail of a comet, and when the day was still took half an hour at least tosettle again for the next passer-by. And besides, she had come to knowthe tracks the stage left in the trail. It _could not_ have passed. Andit had to come; it carried the government mail. And yet, that dust didnot look like the stage dust. (Trivial worries, you say? Then try livingforty miles from a post office, ten from the nearest neighbor, andfifteen hundred from your dearly beloved Home Town. Try living there, notbecause you want to but because you must; hating it, hungering for humancompanionship. Try it with heat and wind and sand and great, aridstretches of a land that is strange to you. Honestly, I think you wouldhave been out there just after sunrise to wait for that stage, and if itwere late you would have walked down the trail to meet it!)

Helen May remained by the post, but she got up and stood on a rock thatprotruded six inches or so above the sand. Of course she could not seeover the ridge--she could not have done that if she had climbed atelegraph pole; only there was no pole to climb--but she felt a littlecloser to seeing. That dust did not look like stage dust!

You would be surprised to know how much Helen May had learned about dustclouds. She could tell an automobile ten miles away, just by the swiftgathering of the gray cloud. She could tell where bands of sheep or herdsof cattle were being driven across the plain. She even knew when a saddlehorse was coming, or a freight team or--the stage. 

She suddenly owned to herself that she was disappointed and ratherworried. For behind this cloud that troubled her there was no second onebuilding up over the skyline and growing more dense as the disturberapproached. She could not imagine what had happened to thatred-whiskered, tobacco-chewing stage driver. She looked at her wristwatch and saw that he was exactly twenty minutes later than his verylatest arrival, and she felt personally slighted and aggrieved. 

For that reason she sat under her pink silk parasol and stared crosslyunder her eyebrows at the horse and man and the dust-grimedrattle-wheeled buggy that eventually emerged from the gray cloud. Thehorse was a pudgy bay that set his feet stolidly down in the trail, anddragged his toes through it as though he delighted in kicking up all thedust he could. By that trick he had puzzled Helen May a little, just atfirst, though he had not been able to simulate the passing of fourhorses. The buggy was such as improvident farmers used to drive (beforethey bought Fords) near harvest time; scaly as to paint, warped andloose-spoked as to wheels, making more noise than progress along thecountry roads. 

The man held the lines so loosely that they sagged under the wire-mendedtraces of sunburned leather. He leaned a little forward, as though it wasnot worth while sitting straight on so hot a day. He wore an old Panamahat that had cost him a good deal when it was new and had saved him agood deal since in straw hats which he had not been compelled to buy solong as this one held together. It was pulled down in front so that itshaded his face--a face lean and lined and dark, with thin lips thatcould be tender and humorous in certain moods. His eyes were hazel, likethe eyes of Starr, yet one never thought of them as being at all likeStarr's eyes. They burned always with some inner fire of life; theylaughed at life, and yet they did not seem to express mirth. They seemedto say that life was a joke, a damnable joke on mankind; that they sawthe joke and resented it even while they laughed at it. For the rest, theman was more than fifty years old, but his hair was thick and black as acrow, and his eyebrows were inclined to bushiness, inclined also to slantupward. A strong face; an unusual face, but a likeable one, it was. Andthat is a fair description of Holman Sommers as Helen May first saw him. 

He drove up to where she sat, and she tilted her pink silk parasolbetween them as though to keep the dust from settling thick upon herstained khaki skirt and her desert-dingy high-laced boots. She was notinterested in him, and her manner of expressing indifference could nothave misled a horned toad. She was too fresh from city life to havefallen into the habit of speaking to strangers easily and as a matter ofcountry courtesy. Even when the buggy stopped beside her, she did notshow any eagerness to move the pink screen so that they might look ateach other. 

"How do you do?" said he, quite as though he were greeting her in her ownhome. "You are Miss Stevenson, I feel sure. I am Holman Sommers, at yourservice. I am under the impression that I have with me a few articleswhich may be of some interest to you, Miss Stevenson. I chanced to comeupon the stage several miles farther down the road. A wheel had givenaway, and there was every indication that the delay would prove serious, so when the driver mentioned the fact that he had mail and merchandisefor you, I volunteered to act as his substitute and deliver them safelyinto your hands. I hope therefore that the service will in some slightmeasure atone for my presumption in forcing my acquaintance upon you. "

At the second sentence the pink parasol became violently agitated. At thethird Helen May was staring at him, mentally if not actuallyopen-mouthed. At the last she was standing up and reaching for her mail, and she had not yet decided in her mind whether he was joking or whetherhe expected to be taken seriously. Even when he laughed, with that odd, dancing light in his eyes, she could not be sure. But because his voicewas warm with human sympathy and the cordiality of a man who is verysure of himself and can afford to be cordial, she smiled back at him. 

"That's awfully good of you, Mr. Sommers, " she said, shuffling herhandful of letters eagerly to see who had written them; more particularlyto see if Chum's brother had written one of them. "I hope you didn'tdrive out of your way to bring them" (there _was_ one; a big, fat onethat had taken two stamps! And one from Chum herself, and--but she wentback gloatingly to the thick, heavy envelope with the bold, blackhandwriting that needed the whole face of the envelope for her name andaddress), "because I know that miles are awfully long in this country. "

"Yes? You have discovered that incontrovertible fact, have you? Then Ihope you will permit me to drive you home, especially since thesepackages are much too numerous and too weighty for you to carry in yourarms. As a matter of fact, I have been hoping for an opportunity to meetour new neighbors. Neighbors are precious in our sight, I assure you, Miss Stevenson, and only the misfortune of illness in the household hasprevented my sister from looking you up long ago. How long have you beenhere? Three weeks, or four?" His tone added: "You poor child, " orsomething equally sympathetic, and he smiled while he cramped the oldbuggy so that she could get into it without rubbing her skirt against thedustladen wheel. 

Helen May certainly had never seen any one just like Holman Sommers, though she had met hundreds of men in a business way. She had met men whoran to polysyllables and pompousness, but she had never known thepolysyllables to accompany so simple a manner. She had seen men slouchingaround in old straw hats-and shoddy gray trousers and negligée shirtswith the tie askew, and the clothes had spelled poverty or shiftlessness. Whereas they made Holman Sommers look like a great man indulging himselfin the luxury of old clothes on a holiday. 

He seemed absolutely unconscious that he and his rattly buggy and theharness on the horse were all very shabby, and that the horse was fat andpudgy and scrawny of mane; and for that she admired him. 

Before they reached the low adobe cabin, she felt that she was muchbetter acquainted with Holman Sommers than with Starr, whose name shestill did not know, although he had stayed an hour talking to Vic andpraising her cooking the night before. She did not, for all the timeshe had spent with him, know anything definite about Starr, whereasshe presently knew a great deal about Holman Sommers, and approved ofall she knew. 

He had a past which, she sensed vaguely, had been rather brilliant. Hemust have been a war correspondent, because he compared the present greatwar with the Japanese-Russian War and with the South African War, and heseemed to have been right in the middle of both, or he could not havespoken so intimately of them. He seemed to know all about the real, underlying causes of them and knew just where it would all end, and whatnations would be drawn into it before they were through. He did not saythat he knew all about the war, but after he had spoken a few casualsentences upon the subject Helen May felt that he knew a great deal morethan he said. 

He also knew all about raising goats. He slid very easily, too, from thewar to goat-raising. He had about four hundred, and he gave her a lot ofvaluable advice about the most profitable way in which to handle them. 

When he saw Vic legging it along the slope behind the Basin to head offBilly and his slavish nannies, he shook his head commiseratingly. "Thereis not a scintilla of doubt in my mind, " he told her gently, "that atrained dog would be of immeasurable benefit to you. I fear you made agrave mistake, Miss Stevenson, when you failed to possess yourself of agood dog. I might go so far as to say that a dog is absolutelyindispensable to the successful handling of goats, or, for that matter, of sheep, either. " (He pronounced the last word eyether. )

"That's what my desert man told me, " said Helen May demurely, "only hedidn't tell me that way, exactly. "

"Yes? Then I have no hesitation whatever in assuring you that your desertman was unqualifiedly accurate in his statement of your need. "

Helen May bit her lip. "Then I'll tell him, " she said, still moredemurely. 

Secretly she hoped that he would rise to the bait, but he apparentlyaccepted her words in good faith and went on telling her just how torange goats far afield in good weather so that the grazing in the Basinitself would be held in reserve for storms. It was a very grave error, said Holman Sommers, to exhaust the pasturage immediately contiguous tothe home corral. It might almost be defined as downright improvidence. Then he forestalled any resentment she might feel by apologizing for hisseeming presumption. But he apprehended the fact that she and her brotherwere both inexperienced, and he would be sorry indeed to see them sufferany loss because of that inexperience. His practical knowledge of thebusiness was at her service, he said, and he should feel that he wasculpably negligent of his duty as a neighbor if he failed to point out toher any glaring fault in their method. 

Helen May had felt just a little resentful of the words downrightimprovidence. Had she not walked rather than spend money and grass on ahorse? Had she not daily denied herself things which she considerednecessities, that she might husband the precious balance of Peter'sinsurance money? But she swallowed her resentment and thanked him quitehumbly for his kindness in telling her how to manage. She owned to herinexperience, and she said that she would greatly appreciate any advicewhich he might care to give. 

Her Man of the Desert, she remembered, had not given her advice, thoughhe must have seen how badly she needed it. He had asked her where her dogwas, taking it for granted, apparently, that she would have one. But whenshe had told him about not buying the dog, he had not said another wordabout it. And he had not said anything about their letting the goats eatup all the grass in the Basin, first thing, instead of saving it for badweather. This Holman Sommers, she decided, was awfully kind, even if hedid talk like a professor or something; kinder than her desert man. No, not kinder, but perhaps more truly helpful. 

At the house he told her just how to fix a "coolereupboard" under thelone mesquite tree which stood at one end of the adobe cabin. It wasreally very simple, as he explained it, and he assured her, in hisscientific terminology, that it would be cool. He went to the spring andshowed her where she could have Vic dig out the bank and fit in a rockshelf for butter. He assured her that she was fortunate in having aliving spring so near the house. It was, he said, of incalculableimportance in that country to have cold, pure water always at hand. 

When he discovered that she was a stenographer, and that she had hertypewriter with her, he was immensely pleased, so pleased that his eyesshone with delight. 

"Ah! now I see why the fates drove me forth upon the highway thismorning, " said he. "Do you know that I have a large volume of work for anexpert typist, and that I have thus far felt that my present isolation inthe desert wastes was an almost unsurmountable obstacle to having thework done in a satisfactory manner? I have been engaged upon a certainwork on sociological problems and how they have developed with the growthof civilization. You will readily apprehend that great care must beexercised in making the copy practically letter perfect. Furthermore, Ifind myself constantly revising the manuscript. I should want tosupervise the work rather closely, and for that reason I have not as yetarranged for the final typing. 

"Now if you care to assume the task, I can assure you that I shall feeltremendously grateful, besides making adequate remuneration for the laborinvolved. "

That is the way he put it, and that is how it happened that Helen May letherself in for the hardest piece of work she had ever attempted since shesold gloves at Bullocks' all day and attended night school all theevening, learning shorthand and typewriting and bookkeeping, andpermitting the white plague to fasten itself upon her while she bent toher studies. 

She let herself in for it because she believed she had plenty of time, and because Holman Sommers was in no hurry for the manuscript, which hedid not expect to see completed for a year or so, since a work so eruditerequired much time and thought, being altogether different from currentfiction, which requires none at all. 

Helen May was secretly aghast at the pile of scrawled writing interlinedand crossed out, with marginal notes and footnotes and references andwhat not; but she let herself in for the job of typing his book forhim--which is enough for the present. 

CHAPTER NINE

PAT, A NICE DOGGUMS

"'The human polyp incessantly builds upon a coral reef. They becomelithified as it were and constitute the strata of the psychozoicstage'--I told you the butter's at the spring. Will you leave me alone?That's the third page I've spoiled over psycho-what-you-call-it. Go onback and herd your goats, and for gracious sake, can that tulip-and-rosesong! I hate it. " Helen May ripped a page with two carbon copies out ofthe machine, pulled out the carbons and crumpled three sheets of paperinto a ball which she threw into a far corner. 

"Gee, but you're pecky to-day! You act like an extra slammed into a soblead and gettin' up stage about it. I wish that long-worded hide hadnever showed up with his soiled package of nut science. A feller can't_live_ with you, by gosh, since you--"

"Well, listen to this, Vic! 'There is a radical difference betweenorganic and social evolution, the formula most easily expressing thisdistinction being that environment transforms the animal, while mantransforms the environment. This transformation--'"

"Hel-up! Hel-up!" Vic went staggering out of the door with his palmpressed against his forehead in the gesture meant to register greatmental agony, while his face was split with that nearly famous comedygrin of his. "Serves you right, " he flung hack at her in his normal toneof brotherly condescension. "The way you fell for that nut, like you wasa starved squirrel shut up in a peanut wagon, by gosh! Hope you're boggeddown in jawbreakers the rest of the summer. Serves yuh right, but youneedn't think you can take it out on me. And, " he draped himself aroundthe door jamb to add pointedly, "you should worry about the tulip song. If I'm willing to stand for you yawping day and night about the sungrowin' co-old, and all that bunk--"

"Oh, beat it, and shut up!" Helen May looked up from evening the edges offresh paper and carbon to say sharply: "You better take a look and seewhere Billy is. And I'll tell you one thing: If you go and lose any moregoats, you needn't think for a minute that I'll walk my head off gettingthem for you. "

"Aw, where do you get that line--walk your head off? I seem to remember aclose-up of you riding home on horseback with moonlight atmosphere and afellow to drive your goats. And you giving him the baby-eyed stare likehe was a screen idol and you was an extra that was strong for him. Bu-lieve me, Helen Blazes, I'm wise. You're wishing a goat would getlost--now, while the moon's workin' steady!"

"Oh, beat it, Vic! I've got work to do, if you haven't. " And to prove it, Helen May began to type at her best speed. 

Vic languidly removed himself from the door jamb and with a parting "Ishould bibble, " started back to his goats, which he had refused to grazeoutside the Basin as Holman Sommers advised. Helen May began valiantly tostruggle with the fine, symmetrical, but almost unreadable chirography ofthe man of many words. She succeeded in transcribing the human polypproperly lithified and correctly constituting the strata of thepsychozoic age, when Vic stuck his head in at the door again. 

"From the des-urt he comes to thee-ee-ee, And he's got a dog for thee to see-ee. "

He paraphrased mockingly, going down to that terrifically deep-sea bassnote of a boy whose voice is changing. 

Helen May threw her eraser at him and missed. It went hurtling out intothe yard and struck Starr on the point of the jaw, as he was riding up tothe cabin. 

Whereat Vic gave a brazenly exultant whoop and rushed off to his goats, bellowing raucously:

"When you wore a too-lup, a sweet yellow too-lup'N I wore a big red ro-o-ose--"

and looking back frequently in a half curious, half wistful way. Vic, ifyou will stop to think of it, had been transplanted rather suddenly fromthe midst of many happy-go-lucky companions to an isolation lightenedonly by a mere sister's vicarious comradeship. If he yearned secretly fora share of Starr's interest, surely no one can blame him; but that heshould voluntarily remove himself from Starr's presence in the beliefthat he had come to see Helen May exclusively, proves that Vic had themakings of a hero. 

Starr dismounted and picked up the eraser from under the investigativenose of a coarse-haired, ugly, brown and black dog that had beenfollowing Rabbit's heels. He took the eraser to Helen May, standingembarrassed in the doorway, and the dog followed and sniffed first herslipper toes and then her hands, which she held out to it ingratiatingly;after which appraisement the dog waggled its stub of a tail in token ofhis friendliness. 

"If you was a Mexican he'd a showed you his teeth, " Starr observedpridefully. "How are you, after your jaunt the other night?"

"Just fine, " Helen May testified graciously. It just happened (or had itjust happened?) that she was dressed that day in a white crêpe de chineblouse and a white corduroy skirt, and had on white slippers and whitestockings. At the top button of her blouse (she could not have touchedthat button with her chin if she had tried) was a brown velvet bow theexact shade of her eyes. Her hair was done low and loose with a negligentwave where it turned back from her left eyebrow. Peter had worshippeddumbly his Babe in that particular dress, and had considered herbeautiful. One cannot wonder then that Starr's eyes paid tribute with asecond long glance. 

Starr had ridden a good many miles out of his way and had argued for agood while, and had finally paid a good many dollars to get the dog thatsniffed and wagged at Helen May. The dog was a thoroughbred Airedale andhad been taught from its puppyhood to herd goats and fight all intrudersupon his flock and to hate Mexicans wherever he met them. He had learnedto do both very thoroughly, hence the argument and the dollars necessarybefore Starr could gain possession of him. 

Starr did not need a dog; certainly not that dog. He had no goats toherd, and he could hate Mexicana without any help or encouragement whenthey needed hating. But he had not grudged the trouble and expense, because Helen May needed it. He might have earned more gratitude had hetold her the truth instead of hiding it like guilt. This was his way ofgoing at the subject, and he waited, mind you, until he had announcednonchalantly that he must be getting along, and that he had just stoppedto get a drink and to see how they were making out!

"Blame dog's taken a notion to you. Followed me out from town. I throwedrocks at him till my arm ached--"

"Why, you mean thing! You might have hit him and hurt him, and he's anice dog. Poor old purp! Did he throw rocks, honest? He _did_? Well, justfor that, I've got a nice ham bone that you can have to gnaw on, and hecan't have a snippy bit of it. All he can do is eat a piece of lemon piethat will probably make him sick. We hope so, don't we? Throwing rocks ata nice, ugly, stubby dog that wanted to follow!"

Starr accepted the pie gratefully and looked properly ashamed of himself. The dog accepted the ham bone and immediately stretched himself out withhis nose and front paws hugging it close, and growling threats atimaginary vandals. Now and then he glanced up gratefully at Helen May, who continued to speak of him in a commiserating tone. 

"He sure has taken a notion to you, " Starr persisted between mouthfuls. "You can have him, for all of me. I don't want the blame cur tagging mearound. I'm liable to take a shot at him if I get peeved oversomething--"

"You dare!" Helen May regarded him sternly from under her lashes, herchin tilted downward. "Do you always take a shot at something when youget peeved?"

"Well, I'm liable to, " Starr admitted darkly. "A dog especially. Youbetter keep him if you don't want him hurt or anything. " He took a biteof pie. (It was not very good pie. The crust was soggy because JohnnyCalvert's cook stove was not a good baker, and the frosting had gonewatery, because the eggs were stale, and Helen May had made a mistake andused too much sugar in the filling; but Starr liked it, anyway, justbecause she had made it. ) "Maybe you can learn him to herd goats, " hesuggested, as though the idea had just occurred to him. 

"Oh, I wonder if he would! Would you, doggums?"

"We'll try him a whirl and see, " Starr offered cheerfully. He finishedthe pie in one more swallow, handed back the plate, and wiped hisfingers, man-fashion, on his trousers. 

"Come on, Pat. He likes Pat for a name, " he explained carefully to HelenMay. "I called him about every name I could think of, and that's the onehe seems to sabe most. "

"I should say he does! Why, he left his bone when you called Pat. Nowthat's a shame, doggums!"

"Oh, well, we'll let him polish off his bone first. " Starr made the offerwith praiseworthy cheerfulness, and sat down on his heels with his backagainst the adobe wall to wait the dog's pleasure. 

"Well, that makes up for some of the rocks, " Helen May approvedgenerously, "and for some of the names you say you called him. And thatreminds me, Man of the Desert, I suppose you have a name of some sort. Inever heard what it was. Is it--Smith, perhaps?"

"My name's Starr, " he told her, with a little glow under the tan of hischeeks. "S, t, a, double r, Starr. I forgot I never told you. I've got acouple of given names, but I'd want to shoot a man that called me by'em. Folks always call me just Starr, and maybe a few other thingsbehind my back. "

Helen May dropped her chin and looked at him steadily from under hereyebrows. "If there's anything that drives me perfectly wild, " she saidfinally, "it's a mystery. I've just simply got to know what those namesare. I'll never mention them, honest. But--"

"Chauncy DeWitt, " Starr confessed. "Forget 'em. They was wished onto mewhen I wasn't able to defend myself. "

"Given names are horrid things, aren't they?" Helen May sympathized. "I think mine is perfectly imbecile. Fathers and mothers shouldn't beallowed to choose names for their children. They ought to wait tillthe kids are big enough to choose for themselves. If I ever have any, I'll call them It. When they grow up they can name themselves anythingthey like. "

"You've got no right to kick, " Starr declared bluntly. "Your name suitsyou fine. "

His eyes said more than that, so that Helen May gave her attention to thedog. "There, now, you've licked it and polished it and left teeth marksall over it, " she said, meaning the bone. "Come on, Pat, and let's see ifyou're a trained doggums. " She looked up at Starr and smiled. "Suppose hestarts running after them; he might chase them clear off the ranch, andthen what?"

"I guess the supply of rocks'll hold out, " Starr hinted, and snapped hisfingers at the dog, which went to heel as a matter of course. 

"If you throw rocks at that dog, I'll throw rocks at you, " Helen Maythreatened viciously. 

"And I'll hit, and you'll miss, " Starr added placidly. "Come on, let'sget busy and see if you deserved that bone. "

Helen May had learned from uncomfortable experience that high-heeledslippers are not made for tramping over rocks and sand. She said that shewould come as soon as she put on some shoes; but Starr chose to wait forher, though he pretended, to himself as much as to her, that he must takethe bridle off Rabbit and let him pick a few mouthfuls of grass while hehad the chance. Also he loosened the cinch and killed a fly or two onRabbit's neck, and so managed to put in the time until Helen May appearedin her khaki skirt and her high boots. 

"That's the sensible outfit for this work, " Starr plucked up courage tocomment as they started off. "That kid brother of yours must get prettylonesome too, out here, " he added. "If you had some one to stay with you, I'd take him out on a trip with me once in a while and show him thecountry and let him learn to handle himself with a horse and gun. Afellow's got to learn, in this country. So have you. How about it? Evershoot a gun, either of you?"

"Vic used to keep me broke, begging money for the shooting gallery downnear our place, " said Helen May. "I used to shoot there a little. "

"Popgun stuff, but good practice, " said Starr succinctly. "Got a gun onthe ranch?"

"No, only Vic's little single-shot twenty-two. That's good enough forjack rabbits. What would we want a gun for?"

Starr laughed. "Season's always open for coyotes, and you could pick up alittle money in bounties now and then, if you had a gun, " he said. "Thatwould keep you out in the open, too. I dunno but what I've got a rifle Icould let you have. I did have one, a little too light a calibre for me, but it would be just about right for you. It's a 25-35 carbine. I'm rightsure I've got that gun on hand yet. I'll bring it over to you. You sureought to have a gun. "

They were nearing the goats scattered over the slope that was shadiest, chosen for Vic's comfort and not because of any thought for his charges. Vic himself was sprawled in the shade of a huge rock, and for pastime hewas throwing rocks at every ground squirrel that poked its nose out of ahole. The two hundred goats were scattered far and wide, but as long asBilly was nibbling a bush within sight, Vic did not worry about the rest. He lifted himself to a sitting posture and grinned when the two came up. 

"Didn't think to bring any pie, I s'pose?" he hinted broadly, and grinnedcompanionably at Starr. 

"You've had two handouts since lunch. I guess you'll last another hour, "Helen May retorted unfeelingly. "See the dog that followed Mr. Starr outfrom town, Vic! We're going to see if he can herd goats. "

"Well, if he can, he's got my permission, that's a cinch. "

"I do believe he can; see him look at them! His name's Pat, and he likesme awfully well. "

"Now, where does he get that idea?" taunted Vic, and winked openly atStarr, who was good enough to smile over what he considered a verypoor joke. 

"Well, let's see you bunch 'em, Pat. " Starr made a wide, sweeping gesturewith his left arm, his eyes darting a quick look at the girl. 

Pat looked up at him, waggled his stub of a tail, and darted down theslope to the left, now and then uttering a yelp. Scattered goats liftedheads to look, their jaws working comically sidewise as though they feltthey must dispose of that particular mouthful before something happenedto prevent. As Pat neared them, they scrambled away from him, running tothe right, which was toward the bulk of the band. 

Down into the Basin itself the dog ran, after a couple of goats that hadstrayed out into the level. These he drove back in a panic of haste, dodging this way and that, nipping, yelping now and then, until they hadjoined the others. Then he went on to the further fringes of the hand, which evened like the edge of a pie crust under the practised fingers ofa good cook. 

"Well, would you look at that!" Helen May never having watched a goodsheep-dog at work, spoke in an awed tone. "Vic, please write!"

Vic, watching open-mouthed, actually forgot to resent the implicationthat Pat had left him hopelessly behind in the art of handling goats. 

"Seems to have the savvy, all right, " Starr observed, just as though hehad not paid all those dollars for the "savvy" that made Pat one of thebest goat dogs in the State. 

"Savvy? Why, that dog's human. Now, I suppose he's stopping over there tosee what he must do next, is he?"

"Wants to know whether I want 'em all rounded up, or just edged up outathe Basin. G' round 'em, Pat, " he called, and made a wide, circular sweepwith his right arm. 

Pat gave a yelp, dropped his head, and scurried up the ridge, driving allstragglers back toward the center of the flock. He went to every crestand sniffed into the wind to satisfy himself that none had strayed beyondhis sight; returned and evened up the ragged edges of the hand, and thencame trotting back to Starr with six inches of pink tongue draped overhis lower jaw and a smile in his eyes and a waggle of satisfaction atloved work well done. The goats, with a meek Billy in the foreground, huddled in a compact mass on the slope and eyed the dog as they had nevereyed Vic, for all his hoe-handle and his accuracy with rocks. 

Helen May dropped her hand on Pat's head and looked soberly into hisupturned eyes. "You're a perfect miracle of a dog, so you can't be mydog, after all, " she said. "Your owner will be riding day and night tofind you. I know I should, if you got lost from me. " Then she looked atStarr. "Don't you think you really ought to take him back with you?It--somehow it doesn't seem quite right to keep a dog that knows somuch. Why, the man I bought the goats from had a dog that could herdthem, and he wanted twenty-five dollars for it, and at that, he claimedhe was putting the price awfully low for me, just because I was a lady, you know. "

Starr, was (as he put it) kicking himself for having lied himselfinto this dilemma. Also he was wondering how best he might liehimself out of it. 

"You want to look out for these marks that say they're giving you the bigend of a bargain just because you're a lady, " he said. "Chances arethey're figuring right then on doing you. If that fellow had gottwenty-five dollars for his dog, take it from me, he wouldn't have lostanything. "

"Well, but do you think it would he right to keep this dog?"

Since she put it that way, Starr felt better. "I sure do. Keep him anywaytill he's called for. When I go back, I'll find out where he comes from;and when I've located the owner, maybe I'll be able to fix it up with himsomehow. You sure ought to have a dog. So let it stand that way. I'lltell yuh when to give him up. "

Helen May opened her lips, and Starr, to forestall argument and to savehis soul from further sin, turned toward the dog. "Bring 'em home, Pat, "he said, and then started toward the corral, which was down below thespring. "Watch him drive, " he said to Helen May and so managed todistract her attention from the ethics of the case. 

Without any assistance, Pat drove the goats to the corral. More thanthat, at Starr's command, he split the band and held half of them aloofwhile the rest went in. He sent these straight down the Basin until Starrrecalled him, when he swung back and corralled them with the others. Hecame then toward the three for further orders, whereupon Vic, who hadbeen silent from sheer amazement, gave a sudden whoop. 

"Hey, Pat! You forgot something. Go back and put up the bars!" heyelled. Then he heaved his hoe-handle far from him and stretched his armshigh over his head like one released from an onerous task. "I'll walk outand let Pat have my job, " he said. "Herding goats is dog's work anyhow, and I told you so the first day, Helen Blazes. Hadn't herded 'em fiveminutes before I knew I wasn't cut out for a farmer. "

"Go on, Pat; you stay with your goats, " Starr commanded gently. And Pat, because he had suckled a nanny goat when he was a pup, and had grown upwith her kid, and had lived with goats all his life, trotted into thecorral, found himself a likeable spot near the gate, snuffed it all over, turned around twice, and curled himself down upon it in perfect content. 

"He'll stay there all night, " Starr told them, laying the bars in theirsockets. "It's a little early to corral 'em, sundown is about the regulartime, but it's a good scheme to give him plenty of time to get acquaintedwith the layout. You get up early, Vic, and let 'em out on the far sideof the ridge. Pat'll do the rest. I'll have to jog along now. "

"Well, say, " Vic objected, rubbing his tousled blond hair into adistracted, upstanding condition, "I wish you'd show me just howyou shift his gears. How the dickens do you do it? He don't knowwhat you say. "

Before he left, Starr showed him the gestures, and Vic that eveningpractised them so enthusiastically that he nearly drove Helen May wild. Perhaps that is why, when she was copying a sentence where Holman Sommershad mentioned the stars of the universe, Helen May spelled stars, "Starr's" and did not notice the mistake at all. 

CHAPTER TEN

THE TRAIL OF SILVERTOWN CORDS

Having wasted a couple of hours more than he intended to spend indelivering the dog, Starr called upon Rabbit to make up those two hoursfor him. And, being an extremely misleading little gray horse, with asurprising amount of speed and endurance stored away under his hide, Rabbit did not fall far short of doing so. 

Starr had planned an unexpected visit to the Medina ranch. In the guiseof stock-buyer his unexpectedness would be perfectly plausible, and hewould be well pleased to arrive there late, so long as he did not arriveafter dark. Just before sundown would do very well, he decided. He wouldcatch Estan Medina off his guard, and he would have the evening beforehim, in case he wanted to scout amongst the arroyos on the way home. 

Starr very much wanted to know who drove an automobile without lightsinto isolated arroyos and over the desert trails at night. He had not, strange to say, seen any machine with Silvertown cord tires in San Bonitoor in Malpais, though he had given every car he saw the second glance tomake sure. He knew that such tires were something new and expensive, somuch so that they were not in general use in that locality. Even in ElPaso they were rarely seen at that time, and only the fact that the greatman who gave him his orders had happened to be using them on his machine, and had mentioned the fact to Starr, who was honored with his friendship, had caused Starr to be familiar with them and to recognize instantly theimpress they left in soft soil. It was a clue, and that was the best hecould say for it. It was just a little better than nothing, he decided. What he wanted most was to see the machine itself at close range, and tosee the men who rode in it--and I am going to tell you why. 

There was a secret political movement afoot in the Southwest; a movementhidden so far underground as to be practically unnoticed on the surface;but a movement, nevertheless, that had been felt and recorded by thatpolitical seismograph, the Secret Service of our Government. It had beenlearned, no mere citizen may know just how, that the movement was calledthe Mexican Alliance. It was suspected that the object was therestoration of three of our States to Mexico, their original owner. Suspected, mind you; and when even the Secret Service can do no more thansuspect, you will see how well hidden was the plot. Its extent and itsramifications they could only guess at. Its leaders no man could name, nor even those who might be suspected more than others. 

But a general uprising in three States, in conjunction with, and underthe control of, a concerted, far-sweeping revolution across the border, would not be a thing to laugh over. Uncle Sam smiled tolerantly when somewould have had him chastise. Uncle Sam smiled, and watched, and waitedand drummed his fingers while he read secret reports from men away outsomewhere in Arizona, and New Mexico, and Texas, and urged them to burrowdeeper and deeper underground, and to follow at any cost the moleliketwistings and blind turnings of this plot to steal away three wholeStates in a lump. 

Now you see, perhaps, why Starr was so curious about that automobile, andwhy he was interested in Estancio Medina, Mexican-American rancher whoowned much land and many herds, and who was counted a power among hiscountrymen; who spoke English with what passed for fluency, and who hadvery decided and intelligent opinions upon political matters, and whoboldly proclaimed his enthusiasm for the advancement of his own race. 

But he did not go to the Medina ranch that evening, for the very goodreason that he met his man fair in the trail as it looped around the headof the draw where he had heard the automobile running without lights. Ason that other evening, Starr had cut straight across the loop, going eastinstead of west. And where the trail forked on the farther side he metEstan Medina driving a big, lathery bay horse hitched to a shiny, newcovered buggy. He seemed in a hurry, but he pulled up nevertheless tohave a word with Starr. And Starr, always observant of details, saw thathe had three or four packages in the bottom of the buggy, which seemed tobear out Estan's statement that he had been to town, meaning San Bonito. 

Starr rolled a cigarette, and smoked it while he gossiped with Estan ofpolitics, pretty girls, and the price of mutton. He had been eyeing thenew buggy speculatively, and at last he spoke of it in that admiring tonewhich warms the heart of the listener. 

"Some turnout, Estan, " he summed up. "But you ought to be driving anautomobile. All your friends are getting them. "

Estan lifted his shoulders in true Spanish fashion and smiled. "No, amigo. Me, I can take pleasure yet from horses. And the madre, she's so'fraid of them automobiles. She cries yet when she knows I ride in one alittle bit. Now she's so proud, when I drive the new buggy home! Shefolds so pretty her best mantilla over her head and rides with me tochurch, and she bows so polite--to all the señoras from the new buggy!And her face shines with the happiness in her heart. Oh, no, not me forthe big automobile!" He smiled and shrugged and threw out his hands. "Ilike best to see my money walking around with wool on the back! Excuse, señor. I go now to bring the new buggy home and to see the smile of mymother. " Then he bethought him of the tradition of his house. "You comeand have a soft bed and the comfort of my house, " he urged. "It is far toSan Bonito, and it is not so far to my house. "

Starr explained plausibly his haste, sent a friendly message to themother and Luis, and rode on thoughtfully. Now and then he turned toglance behind him at the dust cloud rolling rapidly around the headof the draw. 

Since Estan had been to town himself that day, Starr reasoned thatthere would not be much gained by scouting through the arroyos that lednear the Medina ranch. Estan would have seen in town the men he wantedto see. He could do so easily enough and without exciting the leastsuspicion; for San Bonito had plenty of saloons that were popular, andyet unobtrusive, meeting places. No need for the mysterious automobileto make the long journey through the sand to-day, if Estan Medina werethe object of the visit, and Starr knew of no other Mexican out thatway who would be important enough to have a hand in the mixing ofpolitical intrigue. 

He rode on, letting Rabbit drop into his poco-poco trail trot. He carriedhis head bent forward a little, and his eyebrows were pulled into a scowlof concentrated thought. It was all very well to suspect Estan Medina andto keep an eye upon him, but there were others who came nearer to theheart of the plot. He wanted to know who these were, and he believed thatif he could once identify the four Mexicans whom Helen May had seen, hewould be a long step ahead. He considered the simple expedient of askingher to describe them as closely as she could. But since secrecy was thekeynote of his quest, he did not want to rouse her curiosity, and forpurely personal reasons he did want to shield her as far as possible fromany uneasiness or any entanglement in the affair. 

Thinking of Helen May in that light forced him to consider what would beher plight if he and his co-workers failed, if the plan went on to actualfulfillment, and the Mexican element actually did revolt. Babes, theywere, those two alone there in Sunlight Basin, with a single-shot"twenty-two" for defense, when every American rancher in three Statesconsidered high-power rifles and plenty of ammunition as necessary in hishome as flour and bacon!

Starr shivered a little and tried to pull his mind away from Helen Mayand her helplessness. At any rate, he comforted himself, they had the dogfor protection, the dog who had been trained to jump the corral fence atany hour of the night if a stranger, and especially a Mexican cameprowling near. 

But he and his co-workers must not fail. If intrigue burrowed deep, thenthey must burrow deeper. 

So thinking, he came just after sundown to where the trail branched inthree directions. One was the direct road to San Bonito, another took aroundabout way through a Mexican settlement on the river and so came tothe town from another angle, and the third branch wound over the graniteridge to Malpais. Studying the problem as a whole, picturing the havocwhich an uprising would wreak upon those vast grazing grounds of thesouthwest, and how two nations would be embroiled in spite of themselves, he was hoping that his collaborators, scattered here and there throughthe country, men whose names even he did not know, were making moreheadway than he seemed to be making here. 

He would not know, of course, unless he were needed to assist or tosupplement their work in some way. But he hoped they had found outsomething definite, something which the War Department could take holdof; a lever, as it were, to pry up the whole scheme. He was thinking ofthese things, but his mind was nevertheless alert to the little trailsigns which it had become second nature to read. So he saw, there in thedust of the trail, where a buggy had turned around and gone back whenceit had come. He saw that it had been traveling toward town but had turnedand come back. And looking more closely, he saw that one horse had pulledthe buggy. 

He stopped to make sure of that and to search for footprints. But thosehe found were indistinct, blurred partly by the looseness of the sand andpartly by the sparse grass that grew along the trail there, because thebuggy had turned in a hollow. He went on a couple of rods, and he sawwhere an automobile had also come to this point and had turned and goneback toward town, or rather, it had swung sharply around and taken thetrail which led through the Mexican settlement; but he guessed that ithad gone back to town, for all that. And the tire marks were made bySilvertown cords. 

Starr stopped and looked back to where the buggy tracks were faintlyoutlined in the dust of the hollow, and he spoke aloud his thought:"You'd think, just to see him and talk to him, that Estan Medinaassays one hundred per cent, satisfied farmer. He's sure somefox--that same greaser!" After that he shook Rabbit into a long, distance-eating lope for town. 

Night came with its flaring forerunners of purple and crimson and all thegorgeous blendings of the two. By the time he reached San Bonito, thestars were out, and the electric lights were sputtering on certain streetcorners. Starr had rented a small adobe cabin and a corral with a shed onthe outskirts of town where his movements might be unobserved. He did notalways use these, but stopped frequently at a hotel with a garrulouslandlord, and stabled his horse at a certain livery which he knew to be ahotbed of the town's gossip. In both places he was a privileged patronand was the recipient of many choice bits of scandal whispered behind aprudent palm, with a wink now and then to supply the finer shades ofmeaning. But to-night he chose the cabin and the corral sandwichedbetweena transfer company's warehouse and a steam laundry that had been closedby the sheriff. The cabin fronted on a street that was seldom used, andthe corral ran back to a dry arroyo that was used mainly as a dump forthe town's tin cans and dead cats and such; not a particularly attractiveplace but secluded. 

He turned Rabbit into the corral and fed him, went in and cooked himselfsome supper, and afterwards, in a different suit and shoes and a hat thatspoke loudly of the latest El Paso fad in men's headgear, he strolleddown to the corner and up the next street to the nearest garage. Ostensibly he was looking for one Pedro Miera, who had a large sheepranch out east of San Bonito, and who always had fat sheep for sale. Starr considered it safe to look for Miera, whom he had seen two or threedays before in El Paso just nicely started on a ten-day spree that neverstopped short of the city jail. 

Since it was the dull hour between the day's business and the evening'spleasure, Starr strolled the full length of the garage and back againbefore any man spoke to him. He made sure that no car there had the kindof tires he sought, so he asked if Miera and his machine had showed upthere that day, and left as soon as the man said no. 

San Bonito was no city and it did not take long to make the round of thegarages. No one had seen Miera that day, and Starr's disappointment wasquite noticeable, though misunderstood. Not a car in any of the fourgarages sported Silvertown cords. 

At the last garage an arc light flared over the wide doorway. Starr, feeling pretty well disgusted, was leaving when he saw a tire trackalongside the red, gasoline filling-pump. He stopped and, under cover oflighting his cigarette, he studied the tread. Beyond all doubt the car hewanted had stopped there for gas. But the garage man was a Mexican, soStarr dared not risk a question or show any interest whatever in the carwhose tires left those long-lined imprints to tell of its passing. Hepuffed at his cigarette until he had studied the angle of the front-wheeltrack and decided that the car must have been headed south, and that ithad made a rather short turn away from the pump. 

This was puzzling for a while. The driver might have been turning aroundto go back the way he had come. But it was more likely that he had driveninto the cross street to the west. He strolled over that way, but thelight was too dim to trace automobile tracks in the dust of the street sohe went back to the adobe cabin and put in the next hour oiling andcleaning and polishing a 25-35 carbine which he meant to give Helen May, and in filling a cartridge belt with shells. 

He sat for some time turning two six-shooters over in his hands, tryingto decide which would please her most. One was lighter than the other, with an easier trigger action; almost too easy for a novice, he toldhimself. But it had a pearl handle with a bulldog carved on the side thatwould show when the gun was in its holster. She'd like that fancy stuff, he supposed. Also he could teach her to shoot straighter with that light"pull. " But the other was what Starr called a sure-enough go-getter. 

He finally decided, of course, to give her the fancy one. For Vic hewould have to buy a gun; an automatic, maybe. He'd have to talk coyotespretty strong, in order to impress it upon them that they must never goaway anywhere without a gun. Good thing there was a bounty on coyotes;the money would look big to the kid, anyway. It occurred to him furtherthat he could tell them there was danger of running into a rabid coyote. Rabies had caused a good deal of trouble in the State, so he could makethe danger plausible enough. 

He did not worry much over frightening the girl. She had nerve enough. Think of her tackling that ranch proposition, with just that cub brotherto help! When Starr thought of that slim, big-eyed, smiling girl in whitefighting poverty and the white plague together out there on the rim ofthe desert, a lump came up in his throat. She had nerve enough--thatplucky little lady with the dull-gold hair, and the brown velveteyes!--more nerve than he had where she was concerned. 

He went to bed and lay for a long time thinking of Helen May out therein that two-roomed adobe cabin, with a fifteen-year-old boy forprotection and miles of wilderness between her and any other humanhabitation. It was small comfort then to Starr that she had the dog. Onebullet can settle a dog, and then--Starr could not look calmly at thepossibility of what might happen then. 

"They've no business out there like that, alone!" he muttered, rising toan elbow and thumping his hard pillow viciously. "Good Lord! Haven't theygot any folks?"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE WIND BLOWS MANY STRAWS

Soon after daylight, Rabbit snorted and ran a little way down the corraltoward the cabin. Starr, trained to light sleeping and instant waking, was up and standing back from the little window with his six-shooter inhis hand before Rabbit had stopped to whirl and look for what had scaredhim. So Starr was in time to see a "big four" Stetson hat with ahorsehair hatband sink from sight behind the high board fence at the rearof the corral. 

Starr waited. Rabbit shook his head as though he were disgusted withhimself, and began nosing the ground for the wisps of hay which a highwind had blown there. Starr retreated to a point in the room where hecould see without risk of being seen, and watched. In a few minutes, whenthe horse had forgotten all about the incident and was feeding again, theStetson hat very cautiously rose once more. Under its gray brim Starr sawa pair of black eyes peer over the fence. He watched them glancing hereand there, coming finally to rest upon the cabin itself. They watchedRabbit, and Starr knew that they watched for some sign of alarm ratherthan from any great interest in the horse: Rabbit lifted his head andlooked that way boredly for a moment before he went back to his feeding, and the eyes lifted a little, so that the upper part of the owner's facecame into view. A young Mexican, Starr judged him, because of his smoothskin around the eyes. He waited. The fellow rose now so that the fencecame just below his lips, which were full and curved in the pleasantlines of youth. His eyes kept moving this way and that, so that thewhites showed with each turn of the eyeball. Starr studied what he couldsee of the face. Thick eyebrows well formed except that the left one tooka whimsical turn upward; heavy lashes, the high, thin nose of the Mexicanwho is part Indian--as are practically all of the lower, or peonclass--that much he had plenty of time to note. Then there was the mouth, which Starr knew might be utterly changed in appearance when one saw thechin that went with it. 

A hundred young fellows in San Bonito might answer equally well adescription of those features. And the full-crowned gray Stetson may beseen by the thousand in at least four States; and horsehair hatbands maybe bought in any saddlery for two or three dollars--perhaps for less, ifone does not demand too long a pair of tassels--and are loved by Indiansand those who think they are thus living up to the picturesque Old West. So far as he could see, there was nothing much to identify the fellow, unless he could get a better look at him. 

The Mexican gave another long look at the cabin, studying every point, even to the roof. Then he tried to see into the shed where Starr kept hissaddle and where Rabbit could shelter himself from the cold winds. Therewas no door, no front, even, on the side toward the house. But the end ofthe shed was built out into the corral so that the fellow could not seearound its corner. 

He moved along the fence, which gave Starr a very good idea of hisheight, and down to the very corner of the vacant laundry building. Therehe stopped and looked again. He was eyeing Starr's saddle, apparentlytaking in every detail of its workmanship. He looked again at Rabbit, whowas turned then so that his brand, the double Turkey-track, stood outplainly on both thighs. Then, with another slant-eyed inspection of thecabin, he ducked down behind the fence and disappeared, his goingbetrayed by his hat crown which was taller than he imagined and showed agood four inches above the fence. 

Starr had edged along the dark wall of the room so that he had kept theman in sight. Now, when the hat crown moved away down the trail thatskirted the garbage-filled arroyo, he snorted, threw his gun down on thebed, and began to dress himself, rummaging in his "warbag" for a graychecked cap and taking down from the wall a gray suit that he had neverliked and had never worn since the day it came from the mail, lookingaltogether different from the four-inch square he had chosen from atailor agent's sample book. He snorted again when he had the suit on, andsurveyed it with a dissatisfied, downward glance. In his opinion helooked like a preacher trying to disguise himself as a sport, but tocomplete the combination he unearthed a pair of tan shoes and put themon. After that he stood for a minute staring down the fresh-creased graytrousers to his toes. 

"Looks like the very devil!" he snorted again. "But anyway, it'sdifferent. " He dusted the cap by the simple expedient of slapping itseveral times against his leg. When he had hung it on the back of hishead and pulled it well down in front--as nine out of ten men always puton a cap--he did indeed look different, though he did not look at alllike the demon he named. Helen May, for instance, would have needed asecond close glance before she recognized him, but that glance wouldprobably have carried with it a smile for his improved appearance. 

He surveyed as much of the neighborhood as he could see through thewindows, looked at his watch, and saw that it was late enough for him toappear down town without exciting comment from the early birds, and wentout into the corral and fed Rabbit. He looked over the fence where theMexican had stood, but the faint imprints of the man's boots were notdefinite enough to tell him anything. He surveyed the neighborhood fromdifferent angles and could see no trace of any one watching the place, sohe felt fairly satisfied that the fellow had gone for the present, thoughhe believed it very likely that he might return later. 

As he saw the incident, he was not yet considered worth shadowing, buthad in some way excited a certain degree of curiosity about himself. Starr did not like that at all. He had hoped to impress every one withhis perfect harmlessness, and to pass for a stock buyer and nothing else. 

He could not imagine how he had possibly excited suspicion, and he wantedto lull it immediately and permanently. The obvious way to do that wouldbe to rise late, saddle Rabbit and ride around town a little--to the postoffice and a saloon, for instance--get his breakfast at thebest-patronized place in town, and then go about his legitimatebusiness. On the other hand, he wanted to try and trace those cord tiresdown the cross street, if he could, and he could not well do that onhorseback without betraying himself. 

The shed was built out flush with the arroyo edge, so that at the rear ofthe corral one could only go as far as the gate, which closed against theend of the shed. It occurred to Starr that if the young Mexican had beenlooking for something to steal, he would probably have come in at thegate, which was fastened only with a stout hook on the inside. The arroyobank had caved under the farther corner of the shed, so that a hole thesize of a large barrel showed at that end of the manger. Cats and dogs, and perhaps boys, had gone in and out there until a crude kind of trailwas worn down the bank to the arroyo bottom. At some risk to his tanshoes and his new gray suit, Starr climbed into the manger and lethimself down that hole. The trail was firm and dry and so steep he had todig his heels in to keep from tobogganing to the bottom, but once down hehad only to follow the arroyo bottom to a place where he could climb out. Before he found such a place he came to a deep, dry gully that angledback toward the business part of town. A footpath in the bottom of itencouraged him to follow it, and a couple of hundred yards farther alonghe emerged upon the level end of a street given over to secondhandstores, junk shops and a plumber's establishment. From there to the mainstreet was easy enough. 

As he had expected, only a few citizens were abroad and Starr strolledover to the cross street he wanted to inspect. He found the long-linedtread of the tires he sought plainly marked where they had turned intothis street. After that he lost them where they had been blotted out bythe broad tires of a truck. When he was sure that he could trace them nofarther, he turned back, meaning to have breakfast at his favoriterestaurant. And as he turned, he met face to face a tall young Mexican ina full-crowned Stetson banded with horsehair. 

Now, as I have said before, San Bonito was full of young Mexicans whowore Stetson hats and favored horsehair bands around them. Starrglanced at the fellow sharply, got the uninterested, impersonal lookof the perfect stranger who neither knows nor cares who you are, andwho has troubles of his own to occupy his mind; the look whichnineteen persons out of twenty give to a stranger on the street. Starrwent on unconcernedly whistling under his breath, but at the corner heturned sharply to the left, and in turning he flicked a glance back atthe fellow. The Mexican was not giving him any attention whatever, asfar as he could see; on the contrary, he was staring down at theground as though he, too, were looking for something. Starr gave himanother stealthy look, gained nothing from it, and shrugged hisshoulders and went on. 

He ate his breakfast while he turned the matter over in his mind. Whathad he done to rouse suspicion against himself? He could not rememberanything, for he had not yet found anything much to work on; nothing, infact, except that slight clue of the automobile, and he did not even knowwho had been in it. He suspected that they had gone to meet Estan Medina, but as long as that suspicion was tucked away in the back of his mind, how was any one going to know that he suspected Estan? He had not beennear the chief of police or the sheriff or any other officer. He had nottalked with any man about the Mexican Alliance, nor had he asked any manabout it. Instead, he had bought sheep and cattle and goats and hogs fromthe ranchers, and he had paid a fair price for them and had shipped themopenly, under the eye of the stock inspector, to the El Paso MeatCompany. So far he had kept his eyes open and his mouth shut, and hadwaited until some ripple on the surface betrayed the disturbanceunderneath. 

He was not sure that the young man he met on the street was the one whohad been spying over the fence, but he did not mean to take it forgranted that he was not the same, and perhaps be sorry afterwards for hiscarelessness. He strolled around town, bought an automatic gun and a lotof cartridges for Vic, went into a barber shop on a corner and had ashave and a haircut, and kept his eyes open for a tall young Mexican whomight be unduly interested in his movements. 

He met various acquaintances who expressed surprise at not having seenhim around the hotel. To these he explained that he had rented a corralfor his horse, where he could be sure of the feed Rabbit was getting, andto save the expense of a livery stable. Rabbit had been kinda off hisfeed, he said, and he wanted to look after him himself. So he had beensleeping in the cabin that went with the corral. 

His friends thought that was a sensible move, and praised his judgment, and Starr felt better. He did not, however, tell them just where thecorral was located. He had some notion of moving to another place, so heconsidered that it would be just as well not to go into details. 

So thinking, he took his packages and started across to the gully whichled into the arroyo that let him into his place by the back way. He meantto return as he had come; and if any one happened to be spying, he wouldthink Starr had chosen that route as a short cut to town, which it was. 

A block away from the little side street that opened to the gully, Starrstopped short, shocked into a keener attention to his surroundings. Hehad just stepped over an automobile track on the walk, where a machinehad crossed it to enter a gateway which was now closed. And the track hadbeen made by a cord tire. He looked up at the gate of unpainted planks, heavy-hinged and set into a high adobe wall such as one sees so often inNew Mexico. The gate was locked, as he speedily discovered; locked on theinside, he guessed, with bars or great hooks or something. 

He went on to the building that seemed to belong to the place; a longtwo-story adobe building with the conventional two-story gallery runningalong the entire front, and with the deep-set, barred windows that arealso typically Mexican. Every town in the adobe section of the southwesthas a dozen or so buildings almost exactly like this one. The door wasblue-painted, with the paint scaling off. Over it was a plain letteredsign: LAS NUEVAS. 

Starr had seen copies of that paper at the Mexican ranches he visited, and as far as he knew, it was an ordinary newspaper of the country-townstyle, printed in Mexican for the benefit of a large percentage ofMexican-Americans whose knowledge of English print is extremely hazy. 

He walked on slowly to the corner, puzzling over this new twist in thefaint clue he followed. It had not occurred to him that so innocuous asheet as _Las Nuevas_ should be implicated, and yet, why not? He turnedat the corner and went back to the nearest newstand, where he bought anEl Paso paper for a blind and laid it down on a pile of _Las Nuevas_while he lighted his cigarette. He talked with the little, pock-markedMexican who kept the shop, and when the fellow's back was turned towardhim for a minute, he stole a copy of _Las Nuevas_ off the pile andstrolled out of the shop with it wrapped in his El Paso paper. 

He stole it because he knew that not many Americans ever bought thepaper, and he feared that the hombre in charge might wonder why anAmerican should pay a nickel for a copy of _Las Nuevas_. As it happened, the hombre in charge was looking into a mirror cunningly placed for theguarding of stock from pilferers, and he saw Starr steal the paper. Alsohe saw Starr slip a dime under a stack of magazines where it would befound later on. So he wondered a great deal more than he would have doneif Starr had bought the paper, but Starr did not know that. 

Starr went back to his cabin by way of the arroyo and the hole in themanger. When he unlocked the door and went in, he had an odd feeling thatsome one had been there in his absence. He stood still just inside thedoor and inspected everything, trying to remember just where his clotheshad been scattered, where he had left his hat, just how his blankets hadbeen flung back on the bed when he jumped up to see what had startledRabbit; every detail, in fact, that helps to make up the general look ofa room left in disorder. 

He did remember, for his memory had been well trained for details. Heknew that his hat had been on the table with the front toward the wall. It was there now, just as he had flung it down. He knew that his pillowhad been dented with the shape of his head, and that it had lain askew onthe bed; it was just as it had been. Everything--his boots, his dark coatspread over the back of the chair, his trousers across the foot of thebed--everything was the same, yet the feeling persisted. 

Starr was no more imaginative than he needed to be for the work he hadto do. He was not in the least degree nervous over that work. Yet he wassure some one had been in the room during his absence, and he could nottell why he was sure. At least, for ten minutes and more he could nottell why. Then his eyes lighted upon a cigarette stub lying on thehearth of the little cookstove in one corner of the room. Starr alwaysused "wheat straw" papers, which were brown. This cigarette had beenrolled in white paper. He picked it up and discovered that one end wasstill moist from the lips of the smoker, and the other end was stillwarm from the fire that had half consumed it. Starr gave an enlightenedsniff and knew it was his olfactory nerves that had warned him of analien presence there; for the tobacco in this cigarette was not thebrand he smoked. 

He stood thinking it over; puzzling again over the mystery of theirsuspicion of him. He tried to recall some careless act, some imprudentquestion, an ill-considered remark. He was giving up the riddle againwhen that trained memory of his flashed before him a picture that, trivial as it was in itself, yet was as enlightening as the white paperof the cigarette on the stove hearth. 

Two days before, just after his last arrival in San Bonito, he had sent awire to a certain man in El Paso. The message itself had not been of verygreat importance, but the man to whom he had sent it had no connectionwhatever with the Meat Company. He was, in fact, the go-between in theinvestigation of the Secret Service. Through him the War Departmentissued commands to Starr and his fellows, and through him it kept intouch with the situation. Starr had used two code words and a number inthat message. 

And, he now distinctly remembered, the girl who had waited upon him wasdark, with a Spanish cast of features. When she had counted the words andchecked the charge and pushed his change across to him, she had given hima keen, appraising look from under her lashes, though the smile she sentwith it had given the glance a feminine and wholly flatteringinterpretation. Starr remembered that look now and saw in it somethingmore than coquetry. He remembered, too, that he had glanced back from thedoorway and caught her still looking after him; and that he had smiled, and she had smiled swiftly in return and had then turned away abruptly toher work. To her work? Starr remembered now that she had turned andspoken to a sulky-faced messenger boy who was sitting slumped down on thecurve of his back with his tightly buttoned tunic folded up to hisarmpits so that his hands could burrow to the very bottom of his pockets. He had looked up, muttered something, reluctantly removed himself fromthe chair, and started away. The boy, too, had the Mexican look. 

Well, at any rate, he knew now how the thing had started. He heaved asigh of relief and threw himself down on the bed, wadding the pillowinto a hard ball under the nape of his neck and unfolding the Mexicannewspaper. He had intended to move camp; but now that they had begun totrail him, he decided to stay where he was and give them a run for theirmoney, as he put it. 

Starr could read Spanish well enough for ordinary purposes. He wentcarefully through _Las Nuevas_, from war news to the localadvertisements. There was nothing that could even be twisted into amessage of hidden meaning to the initiated. _Las Nuevas_ was what itcalled itself: _The News_. It was exactly as innocuous as he had believedit to be. Its editorial page, even, was absolutely banal in its servilityto the city, county, state and national policy. 

"That's a hell of a thing to steal!" grumbled Starr, and threw the paperdisgustedly from him. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

STARR FINDS SOMETHING IN A SECRET ROOM

That day Starr rode out into the country and looked at a few head of cowsand steers that a sickly American wanted to sell so he could go East forhis health (there being in most of us some peculiar psychological leaningtoward seeking health afar). Starr went back to town afterwards and madeRabbit comfortable in the corral, reasoning that if he were going to bewatched, he would be watched no matter where he went; but he ate hissupper in the dining room of the Plaza Hotel, and sat in the lobbytalking with a couple of facetious drummers until the mechanical piano inthe movie show across the street began to play. 

He went to the show, sat through it patiently, strolled out when it wasover, and visited a saloon or two. Then, when he thought his eveningmight be considered well rounded out with harmless diversions, he wentout to his cabin, following the main street but keeping well in theshadow as though he wished to avoid observation. 

He had reason to believe that some one followed him out there, which didnot displease him much. He lighted his lamp and fussed around for half anhour or so before he blew out the light and went to bed. 

At three o'clock in the morning, with a wind howling in from themountains, Starr got up and dressed in the dark, fumbling for a pair of"sneakers" he had placed beside his bed. He let himself out into thecorral, being careful to keep close to the wall of the house until hereached the high board fence. Here, too, he had to feel his way becauseof the pitchy blackness of the night; and if the rattling wind preventedhim from hearing any footsteps that might be behind him, it also coveredthe slight sound of his own progress down the fence to the shed. But hedid not think he would be seen or followed, for he had been careful tooil the latch and hinges of his door before he went to bed; and he wouldbe a faithful spy indeed who shivered through the whole night, watching aman who apparently slept unsuspectingly and at peace. 

Down the hole from the manger Starr slid, and into the arroyo bottom. Hestumbled over a can of some sort, but the wind was rattling everythingmovable, so he merely swore under his breath and went on. He was not arange man for nothing, and he found his way easily to the adobe housewith LAS NUEVAS over the door, and the adobe wall with the plank gatethat had been closed. 

It was closed now, and the house itself was black and silent. Starrstooped and gave a jump, caught the top of the wall with his hookedfingers, went up and straddled the top where it was pitch black againstthe building. For that matter, it was nearly pitch black whichever wayone looked, that night. He sat there for five minutes, listening andstraining his eyes into the enclosure. Somewhere a piece of corrugatediron banged against a board. Once he heard a cat meow, away back at therear of the lot. He waited through a comparative lull, and when the windwhooped again and struck the building with a fresh blast, Starr jumped tothe ground within the yard. 

He crouched for a minute, a shot-loaded quirt held butt forward in hishand. He did not want to use a gun unless he had to, and the loaded endof a good quirt makes a very efficient substitute for a blackjack. Butthere was no movement save the wind, so presently he followed the wall ofthe house down to the corner, stood there listening for awhile and wenton, feeling his way rapidly around the entire yard as a blind man feelsout a room that is strange to him. 

He found the garage, with a door that kept swinging to and fro in thewind, banging shut with a slam and then squealing the hinges as itopened again with the suction. He drew a breath of relief when he came tothat door, for he knew that any man who happened to be on guard wouldhave fastened it for the sake of his nerves if for nothing else. 

When he was sure that the place was deserted for the night, Starr wentback to the garage and went inside. He fastened the door shut behind himand switched on his pocket searchlight to examine the place. If he hadexpected to see the mysterious black car there he was disappointed, forthe garage was empty--which perhaps explained the swinging door, that hadbeen left open in the evening when there was no wind. Small comfort inthat for Starr, for it immediately occurred to him that the car wouldprobably return before daylight if it had gone after dark. 

He turned his hand slowly, painting the walls with a brush of brilliantlight. "Huh!" he grunted under his breath. For there in a far corner werefour Silvertown cord tires with the dust of the desert still clinging tothe creases of the lined tread. Near-by, where they had been torn off inhaste and flung aside, were the paper wrappings of four other tires, supposedly new. 

So they--he had no more definite term by which to call them--they hadsensed the risk of those unusual tires, and had changed for others of amore commonly-used brand! Starr wondered if some one had seen him lookingat tire-tracks, the young Mexican he had met on the side street, perhaps. Or the Mexican garage man may have caught him studying that track by thefilling-pump. 

"Well, " Starr summed up the significance of the discovery, "the game'sopen; now we'll get action. "

He glanced down to make sure that he had not left any tracks on the floorand was glad he had not worn his boots. Then he snapped off the light, went out, and left the door swinging and banging as it had been before. If he learned no more, at least he was paid for the trip. 

He went straight to the rear door of the building, taking no pains toconceal his footsteps. The wind, he knew, would brush them out completelywith the sand and dust it sent swirling around the yard with every gust. As he had hoped, the door was not bolted but locked with a key, so he lethimself in with one of the pass keys he carried for just such work asthis. He felt at the windows and saw that the blinds were down, andturned on his light. 

The place had all the greasy dinginess of the ordinary print shop. Thepresses were here, and the motor that operated them. Being a bi-weeklyand not having much job printing to do, it was evident that _Las Nuevas_did not work overtime. Things were cleaned up for the night and ready forthe next day's work. It all looked very commonplace and as innocent asthe paper it produced. 

Starr went on slowly, examining the forms, the imperfect first proofs ofcirculars and placards that had been placed on hook files. AVISO! staredup at him in big, black type from the top of many small sheets, with thefollowing notices of sales, penalties attached for violations of certainordinances, and what not. But there was nothing that should not be there, nothing that could be construed as seditionary in any sense of the word. 

Still, some person or persons connected with this place had found itexpedient to change four perfectly good and quite expensive tires forfour new and perfectly commonplace ones, and the only explanationpossible was that the distinctive tread of the expensive ones had beenobserved. There must, Starr reasoned, be something else in this placewhich it would be worth his while to discover. He therefore wentcarefully up the grimy stairway to the rooms above. 

These were offices of the comfortless type to be found in small towns. Bare floors, stained with tobacco juice and the dust of the street. Bare desks and tables, some of them unpainted, homemade affairs, allof them cheap and old. A stove in the larger office, a fewwooden-seated armchairs. Starr took in the details with a flick hereand there of his flashlight that he kept carefully turned away from thegreen-shaded windows. 

News items, used and unused, he found impaled on desk files. Bills paidand unpaid he found also. But in the first search he found nothingelse, nothing that might not be found in any third-rate newspaperestablishment. He stood in the middle room--there were three in a row, with an empty, loft-like room behind--and considered where else hecould search. 

He went again to a closet that had been built in with boards behind thechimney. At first glance this held nothing but decrepit brooms, abattered spittoon, and a small pile of greasewood cut to fit the heaterin the larger room; but Starr went in and flashed his light around thewall. He found a door at the farther end, and he knew it for a dooronly when he passed his hands over the wall and felt it yield. Hepushed it open and went into another room evidently built across oneend of the loft, a room cunningly concealed and therefore a room likelyto hold secrets. 

He hitched his gun forward a little, pushed the door shut behind him, andbegan to search that room. Here, as in the outer offices, the firstsuperficial examination revealed nothing out of the way. But Starr didnot go at things superficially. First the desk came under close scrutiny. There were no letters; they were too cautious for that, evidently. Helooked in the little stove that stood near the wall where the chimneywent up in the closet, and saw that the ashes consisted mostly of charredpaper. But the last ones deposited therein had not yet been lighted, or, more exactly, they had been lighted hastily and had not burned exceptaround the edges. He lifted out the one on top and the one beneath it. They were two sheets of copy paper scribbled closely in pencil. The firstwas entitled, with heavy underscoring that signified capitals, "Souls inBondage. " This sounded interesting, and Starr put the papers in hispocket. The others were envelopes addressed to _Las Nuevas_; there was nomore than a handful of papers in all. 

In a drawer of the desk, which he opened with a skeleton key, he foundmany small leaflets printed in Mexican. Since they were headed ALMAS DECAUTIVERO, he took one and hoped that it would not be missed. There wereother piles of leaflets in other drawers, and he helped himself to asample of each, and relocked the drawers carefully. But search as hemight, he could find nothing that identified any individual, or evenpointed to any individual as being concerned in this propaganda work; norcould he find any mention of the Mexican Alliance. 

He went out finally, let the door swing behind him as it seemedaccustomed to do, climbed through a window to the veranda that borderedall these rooms like a jutting eyebrow, and slid down a corner post tothe street. It was close to dawn, and Starr had no wish to be found nearthe place; indeed, he had no wish to be found away from his cabin if anyone came there with the breaking of day to watch him. 

As he had left the cabin, so he returned to it. He went back to bed andlay there until sunrise, piecing together the scraps of information hehad gleaned. So far, he felt that he was ahead of the game; that he hadlearned more about the Alliance than the Alliance had learned about him. 

As soon as the light was strong enough for him to read without a lamp, hetook from his pocket the papers he had gleaned from the stove, spread outthe first and began to decipher the handwriting. And this is what hefinally made out:

"Souls in Bondage:

"The plundering plutocrats who suck the very life blood of your mothercountry under the guise of the development of her resources, are workingin harmony with the rich brigands north of the border to plunder youfurther, and to despoil the fair land you have helped to win from thewilderness. 

"Shall strong men be content in their slavery to the greed of others?Rise up and help us show the plunderers that we are men, not slaves. Letthis shameless persecution of your mother country cease!

"American bandits would subjugate and annex the richest portion ofMexico. Why should not Mexico therefore reclaim her own? Why not turn thetables and annex a part of the vast territory stolen from her by theoctopus arms of our capitalist class?

"We are a proud people and we never forget. Are we a cowardly people whowould cringe and yield when submission means infamy?

"Awake! Strike one swift, successful blow for freedom and your bleedingmother land. 

"Texas, New Mexico, California and Arizona were stolen from Mexico, justas the riches of her mines are being stolen from her to-day. Sons ofMexico, you can help her reclaim her own. Will you stand by and see herfurther despoiled? Let your voices rise in a mighty cry for justice! Letyour arms be strong to strike a blow for the right!

"Souls in bondage, wake up and strike off your shackles! Be not slavesbut free men!

"Texas, New Mexico and Arizona for Mexico, to whom they rightfullybelong!"

"They sure do make it strong enough, " Starr commented, feeling for amatch with which to relight his cigarette that had gone out. He laid downthe written pages and took up the leaflet entitled, "ALMAS DE CAUTIVERO. "The text that followed was like the heading, simply a translation intoSpanish of the exhortation he had just read in English. But he read itthrough and noted the places where the Spanish version was even moreinflammatory than the English--which, in Starr's opinion, was going some. The other pamphlets were much the same, citing well-known instances ofthe revolution across the border which seemed to prove conclusively thatjustice was no more than a jest, and that the proletariat of Mexico wasgetting the worst of the bargain, no matter who happened to be in power. 

Starr frowned thoughtfully over the reading. To him the thing wastreason, and it was his business to help stamp it out. For the powersthat be cannot afford to tolerate the planting of such seeds ofdissatisfaction amongst the untrained minds of the masses. 

But, and Starr admitted it to himself with his mouth pulled down at thecorners, the worst of it was that under the bombast, under thevituperative utterances, the catch phrases of radicalism, there remainedthe grains of truth. Starr knew that the masses of Mexico _were_suffering, broken under the tramplings of revolution andcounter-revolution that swept back and forth from gulf to gulf. Still, itwas not his business to sift out the plump grains of truth and justice, but to keep the chaff from lighting and spreading a wildfire of seditionthrough three States. 

"'Souls in bondage' is right, " he said, setting his feet to the floorand reaching for his boots. "In bondage to their own helplessness, andhelpless because they're so damned ignorant. But, " he added grimly whilehe stamped his right foot into its boot, "they ain't going at it theright way. They're tryin' to tear down, when they ain't ready to buildanything on the wreck. They're right about the wrong; but they're wrongas the devil about the way to mend it. Them pamphlets will sure raisehell amongst the Mexicans, if the thing ain't stopped pronto. "

He dressed for riding, and went out and fed Rabbit before he wentthoughtfully up to the hotel for his breakfast. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HELEN MAY SIGHS FOR ROMANCE

Helen May was toiling over the ridgy upland which in New Mexico is calleda mesa, when it is not a desert--and sometimes when it is one--taking herturn with the goats while Vic nursed a strained ankle and a grouch underthe mesquite tree by the house. With Pat to help, the herding resolveditself into the exercise of human intelligence over the dog's skill. Pat, for instance, would not of his own accord choose the best grazing for hisband, but he could drive them to good grazing once it was chosen for him. So, theoretically, Helen May was exercising her human intelligence;actually she was exercising her muscles mostly. And having an abundanceof brain energy that refused to lie dormant, she had plenty of time tothink her own thoughts while Pat carried out her occasional orders. 

For one thing, Helen May was undergoing the transition from a mildsatisfaction with her education and mentality, to a shamed consciousnessof an appalling ignorance and mental crudity. Holman Sommers wasunwittingly the cause of that. There was nothing patronizing orcondescending in the attitude of Holman Sommers, even if he did run tolong words and scientifically accurate descriptions of the smallestsubjects. It was the work he placed before her that held Helen Mayabashed before his vast knowledge. She could not understand half of whatshe deciphered and typed for him, and because she could not understandshe realized the depth of her benightedness. 

She was awed by the breadth and the scope which she sensed more or lessvaguely in _The Evolution of Sociology_. Holman Sommers quoted freely, and discussed boldly and frankly, such abstruse authors as Descartes, Spinoza, Schopenhauer, Comte, Gumplowicz, some of them names she hadnever heard of and could not even spell without following her copyletter by letter. Holman Sommers seemed to have read all of them and tohave weighed all of them and to be able to quote all of them offhand;whereas Schopenhauer was the only name in the lot that sounded in theleast familiar to Helen May, and she had a guilty feeling that she hadalways connected the name with music instead of the sort of thingsHolman Sommers quoted him as having said or written, she could not makeout which. 

Helen May, therefore, was suffering from mental growing pains. Shestruggled with new ideas which she had swallowed whole, without anyprevious elementary knowledge of the subject. Her brain was hungry, herlife was stagnant, and she seized upon these sociological problems whichHolman Sommers had placed before her, and worried over them, and wonderedwhere Holman Sommers had learned so much about things she had never heardof. Save his vocabulary, which wearied her, he was the simplest, thekindest of men, though not kind as her Man of the Desert was kind. 

Just here in her thoughts Holman Sommers faded, and Starr's lean, whimsical face came out sharply defined before her mental vision. Starrcertainly was different! Ordinary, and not educated much beyond the threeRs, she suspected. Just a desert man with a nice voice and a gift forprovocative little silences. Two men could not well be farther apart inpersonality, she thought, and she amused herself by comparing them. 

For instance, take the case of Pat. Sommers had told her just why andjust how desperately she needed a dog for the goats, and had urged her byall means to get one at the first opportunity. Starr had not saidanything about it; he had simply brought the dog. Helen May appreciatedthe different quality of the kindness that does things. 

Privately, she suspected that Starr had stolen that dog, he had seemed soembarrassed while he explained how he came by Pat; especially, sheremembered, when she had urged him to take the dog back. She would not, of course, dare hint it even to Vic; and theoretically she was of courseshocked at the possibility. But, oh, she was human! That a nice manshould swipe a dog for her secretly touched a little, responsivetenderness in Helen May. (She used the word "swipe, " which somehow madethe suspected deed sound less a crime and more an amusing peccadillo thanthe word "steal" would have done. Have you ever noticed how adroitly wetone down or magnify certain misdeeds simply by using slang or dictionarywords as the case may be?)

Oh, she saw it quite plainly, as she trudged over to the shady side of arock ridge and sat down where she could keep an eye on Pat and the goats. She told herself that she would ask her Man of the Desert, the next timehe happened along, whether he had found out who the dog belonged to. Ifhe acted confused and dodged the issue, then she would know for sure. Just what she would do when she knew for sure, Helen May had not decided. 

The goats were browsing docilely upon the slope, eating stuff which onlya goat would attempt to eat. Helen May was not afraid of Billy since Pathad taken charge. Pat had a way of keeping Billy cowed and as harmlessas the nannies themselves. Just now Pat was standing at a little distancewith his tongue slavering down over his white teeth, gazing over the bandas a general looks at his army drawn up in review. 

He turned his head and glanced at Helen May inquiringly, then trottedover to where she sat in the shade. His tongue still drooped quiveringlyover his lower jaw; and now and then he drew it back and licked his lipsas though they were dry. Helen May found a rock that was hollowed like acrude saucer, and poured water into the hollow from her canteen. Patlapped it up thirstily, gave his stubby tail a wag of gratitude, lay downwith his front paws on the edge of her skirt with his head dropped downupon them, and took a nap--with one eye opening now and then to see thatthe goats were all right, and with his ears lifting to catch the meaningof every stray bleat from a garrulous nanny. 

Helen May had changed a good deal in the past two or three weeks. Nowwhen she stared away and away over the desert and barren slope and ridgesand mountain, she did not feel that she hated them. Instead, she saw thatthe yellow of the desert, the brown of the slopes, and the black of thedistant granite ledges basseting from bleak hills were more beautifulthan the tidy little plots of tilled ground she used to think so lovely. There was something hypnotic in these bald distances. She could not read, when she was out like this; she could only look and think and dream. 

She wished that she might ride out over it sometime, away over to themountains, perhaps, as far as she could see. She fell to dreaming of theold days when this was Spanish territory, and the king gave royal grantsof land to his favorites: for instance, all the country lying between twomountain ranges, to where a river cut across and formed a naturalboundary. Holman Sommers had told her about the old Spanish grants, andhow many of the vast estates of Mexican "cattle kings" and "sheep kings"were still preserved almost intact, just as they had been when this was apart of Mexico. 

She wished that she might have lived here then, when the dons held swayand when señoritas were all beautiful and when señoras were every one ofthem imposing in many jewels and in rich mantillas, and when vaqueroswore red sashes and beautiful serapes and big, gold-laced sombreros, androde prancing steeds that curveted away from jingling, silver-rowelledspurs. Helen May, you must remember, knew her moving-picture romance. Shecould easily vision these things exactly as they had been presented toher on the screen. That is why she peopled this empty land so gorgeously. 

It was different now, of course. All the Mexicans she had seen werelike the Mexicans around the old Plaza in Los Angeles. All the señoritasshe had met--they had not been many--powdered and painted abominably tothe point of their jaws and left their necks dirty. And their petticoatswere draggled and their hats looked as though they had been trimmed fromthe ten-cent counter of a cheap store. All the señoras were smokylooking with snakish eyes, and the dresses under their heavy-fringedblack mantillas were more frowsy than those of their daughters. Theycertainly were not imposing; and if they wore jewelry at all it lookedbrassy and cheap. 

There was no romance, nothing like adventure here nowadays, said HelenMay to herself, while she watched the little geysers of dust go dancinglike whirling dervishes across the sand. A person lived on canned stuffand kept goats and was abjectly pleased to see any kind of human being. There certainly was no romance left in the country, though it had seemedalmost as though there might be, when her Man of the Desert sang and allthe little night-sounds hushed to listen, and the moon-trail across thesand of the desert lay like a ribbon of silver. It had seemed then asthough there might be romance yet alive in the wide spaces. 

So she had swung back again to Starr, just as she was always doinglately. She began to wonder when he would come again, and what he wouldhave to say next time, and whether he had really annexed some poor sheepman's perfectly good dog, just because he knew she needed one. It wouldnever do to let on that she guessed; but all the same, it was mighty niceof him to think of her, even if he did go about it in a queer way. Andwhen Pat, who had seemed to be asleep, lifted his head and looked up intoher eyes adoringly, Helen May laid her hand upon his smooth skull andsmiled oddly. 

No more romance, said Helen May--and here was Starr, a man of mystery, aman feared and distrusted by the sons of those passionate dons of whomshe dreamed! Here was Starr, Secret Service man (there is ever a glamorin the very name of it), the very essence and forefront of such romanceand such adventure as she had gasped over, when she had seen it picturedon the screen! She was living right in the middle of intrigue that wasstirring the rulers of two nations; she was coming close to realadventure, and there she sat, with Pat lying on the hem of her skirt, andmourned that she was fifty or a hundred years too late for even a glimpseat romance! And fretted because she was helping Pat herd goats, andbecause life was dull and commonplace. 

"Honestly, " she told Pat, "I've got to the point where I catch myself, looking forward to the chance visits of a wandering cowboy who isperfectly commonplace. Why, he'd be absolutely lost on the screen; youwouldn't know he was in the picture unless his horse bucked or fell downor something! And I don't suppose he ever has a thought beyond his workand his little five-cent celebrations in San Bonito, maybe. Most likelyhe flirts with those grimy-necked Mexican girls, too. You can't tell--

"And think of me being so hard up for excitement that I've got to playhe's some mysterious creature of the desert! Honest to goodness, Pat, it's got so bad that the mere sight of a real, live man is thrilling. When Holman Sommers comes and lifts that old Panama like a crown prince, and smiles at me and talks about all the different periods of the humanrace, and gems and tribal laws and all that highbrow dope, I just sit anddrink it in and wish he'd keep on for hours! Can you beat that? And if byany chance a common, ordinary specimen of desert man should ride by, Imight be desperate enough--"

Her gaze, wandering always out over the tremendous sweep of plateau whichfrom that point looked illimitable as the ocean, settled upon a whirlwindthat displayed method and a slow sedateness not at all in keeping withthe erratic gyrations of those gone before. Watching it wistfully with ahalf-formed hope that it might not be just a dry-weather whirlwind, herdroning voice trailed off into silence. A faint beating in her throatbetrayed what it was she half hoped. She was so desperately lonesome!

Pat tilted his head and looked up at her and licked her hand until shedrew it away impatiently. 

"Good gracious, Pat! Do you want to plaster me with germs?" she reproved. And Pat dropped his head down upon his paws and eyed her furtively fromunder his brown lids, waiting for her to repent her harshness and smoothhis head caressingly, as was her wont. 

But Helen May was watching that slow-moving column of dust, just asshe had watched the cloud which had heralded the coming into her lifeof Holman Sommers. It might be--but it couldn't, for this was awayoff the road. No one would be cutting straight across that hummockyflat, unless--

From the desert I come to thee, On my Arab shod with fire--

"Oh, I'm getting absolutely mushy!" she muttered angrily. "If I'vereached the point where I can't see a spot of dust without gettingheart-failure over it, why it's time I was shut up somewhere. What areyou lolling around me for, Pat? Go on and tend to your goats, why don'tyou? And do get off my skirt!"

Pat sprang up as though she had struck him; gave her an injured glancethat was perfectly maddening to Helen May, whose conscience wassufficient punishment, and went slinking off down the slope. Half-way tothe band he stopped and sat down on his haunches in the hot sun, asdejected a dog as ever was made to suffer because his mistress wasdispleased with herself. 

Helen May sat there scowling out across the wide spaces, while romanceand adventure, and something more, rode steadily nearer, heralded by thesmall gray cloud. When she was sure that a horseman was coming, sheperversely removed herself to another spot where she would not be seen. And there she sat, out of sight from below and thus fancying herselfundiscovered, refusing so much as a sly glance around her granite shield. 

For if there was anything which Helen May hated more than another it wasthe possibility of being thought cheaply sentimental, mushy, as thepresent generation vividly puts it. Also she was trying to break herselfof humming that old desert love-song all the while. Vic was beginning to"kid" her unmercifully about it, for one thing. To think that she shouldsing it without thinking a word about it, just because she happened tosee a little dust! She would not look. She would not!

Starr might have passed her by and gone on to the cabin if he had not, through a pair of powerful binoculars, been observing her when she sentPat off, and when she got up and went over to the other ledge and satdown. Through the glasses he had seen her feet crossed, toes up, justpast the nose of the rock, and he could see the spread of her skirt. Luckily, he could not read her mind. He therefore gave a yank at thelead-rope in his hand and addressed a few biting remarks to awhite-lashed, blue-eyed pinto trailing reluctantly behind Rabbit; androde forward with some eagerness toward the ridge. 

"'Sleep?" he greeted cheerfully, when he had forced the two horses toscramble up to the shade of the ledge, and had received no attentionwhatever from the person just beyond. The tan boots were still crossed, and not so much as a toe of them moved to show that the owner heard him. Starr knew that he had made noise enough, so far as that went. 

"Why, no, I'm not asleep. What is it?" came crisply, after aperceptible pause. 

"It ain't anything at all, " Starr retorted, and swung Rabbit into theshade which Helen May had left. He dismounted, sat himself down with hisback against a rock, and proceeded to roll a cigarette. By no meanswould he intrude upon the privacy of a lady, though the quiet, crossedfeet and the placid folds of the khaki skirt told him that she wassitting there quietly--pouting about something, most likely, he diagnosedher silence shrewdly. Well, it was early, and so long as he reached acertain point by full dark, he was not neglecting anything. As a matterof fact, he told himself philosophically, he really wanted to kill half aday in a perfectly plausible manner. There was no hurry, no hurry at all. 

Pat looked back at him ingratiatingly, and Starr called. Pat came runningin long leaps, nearly wagging himself in two because someone he liked wasgoing to be nice to him. Starr petted him and talked to him and pulledhis ears and slapped him on the ribs, and Pat in his joy persisted intrying to lick Starr's cheek. 

"Quit it! Lay down and be a doormat, then. You've got welcome wrote allover you. And much as I like welcome, I hate to be licked. "

Pat lay down, and Starr eyed the tan boot toes. They moved impatiently, but they did not uncross. Starr smiled to himself and proceeded to carryon a one-sided conversation with Pat, and to smoke his cigarette. 

"Sick, over there?" he inquired casually after perhaps five minutes;either of them would have sworn it ten or fifteen. 

"Why, no, " chirped the crisp voice. "Why?"

"Seemed polite to ask, is all, " Starr confessed. "I didn't think youwas. " He finished his smoke in the silence that followed. Then, becausehe himself owned a perverse streak, he took his binoculars from theircase and began to study the low-lying ridge in the distance, in a pocketof which nestled the Medina ranch buildings. He was glad this ridgecommanded all but the "draws" and hollows lying transversely between hereand Medina's place. It was Medina whom he had been advised by his chiefto watch particularly, when Starr had found a means of laying his cluesbefore that astute gentleman. If he could sit within ten feet of HelenMay while he kept an eye on that country over there, all the better. 

He saw a horseman ride up out of a hollow and disappear almostimmediately into another. The man seemed to be coming over in thisdirection, though Starr could not be sure. He watched for a reappearanceof the rider on high ground, but he saw no more of the fellow. So after alittle he took down the glasses to scan the country as a whole. 

It was then that he glanced toward the other rock and saw that the tanboots had moved out of sight. He believed that he would have heard her ifshe moved away, and so he kept his eyes turned upon the corner of therock where her feet had shown a few minutes before. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A SHOT FROM THE PINNACLE

"Why--did some one come with you, Mr. Starr? I thought you were alone. "

Starr turned his head and saw Helen May standing quite close, on theother side of him. She was glancing inquiringly from him to the pintopony, and she was smiling the least little bit, though her eyes had ashamed, self-conscious look. Starr eyed her keenly, a bit reproachfully, and she blushed. 

"I thought maybe you'd come around where I was, " she defended herselflamely. "It--seemed cooler there--"

"Yes, I noticed it was pretty cool, from the tone of your voice. "

"Well--oh, I was just nursing a grouch, and I couldn't stop all at once, "Helen May surrendered suddenly, sitting down beside him and crossing herfeet. "I've read in stories how sheepherders go crazy, and I know nowjust why that is. They see so few people that they don't know how to actwhen some one does come along. They get so they hate themselves andeverybody else. I had just finished abusing poor old Pat till he wentoff and sulked too. "

"I thought probably you and Pat had just had a run-in, the way he acted. "Starr went back to scanning that part of the mesa where he had glimpsedthe rider. He could not afford to forget business in the pleasure oftalking aimless, trivial things with Helen May. 

"What are you looking for?"

"Stock, " said Starr, falling back on the standard excuse of therange man. 

"And _what's_ the idea of two saddle-horses and two saddles and twobridles?" Helen May's voice was as simply curious as a child's. 

"The idea is that you're going to ride instead of walk from now on. It'san outfit I got from a fellow that was leaving. He borrowed money from meand left his horse and saddle, for a kind of security. I didn't want it, but he had to leave 'em somewhere. So I thought you might as well keepthe horse and use it till he comes back, or something. " Starr did verywell with this explanation; much better than he had done in explainingPat. The truth was that he had bought the horse for the express purposeof giving it to Helen May; just as he had bought the dog. 

Helen May studied his face while he studied the distant plain. Shethought he acted as though he didn't care much whether she kept thehorse or not, and for that reason, and because his explanation hadsounded like truth, she hesitated over refusing the offer, though shefelt that she ought to refuse. 

"It ain't right for you to be out here afoot, " said Starr, as though hehad read her thoughts. "It's bad enough for you to be here at all. Whatever possessed you to do such a crazy thing, anyhow?"

"Well, sometimes people can't choose. Dad got the notion first. Andthen--when he died--Vic and I just went ahead with it. "

"Did he know anything about this country? Did he know--what chances you'dbe taking?" Starr was trying to choose his words so that they wouldimpress her without alarming her. It angered him to have to worry overthe girl's welfare and to keep that worry to himself. 

"What chances, for gracious sake? I never saw such a mild, perfectlymonotonous life. Why, there are more chances in Los Angeles every time aperson goes down town. It's deadly dull here, and it's too lonesome forwords, and I hate it. But as for taking chances--" Her voice was franklycontemptuous of the idea. 

"Chances of going broke. It takes experience--"

"Oh, as to that, it's partly a matter of health, " said Helen Maylightly. "I have to live where the climate--"

"You could live in Albuquerque, or some other live town; close to it, anyway. You don't have to stick away down here, where--"

"I don't see as it matters. So long as it isn't Los Angeles, no placeappeals to me. And dad had bought the improvements here, so--"

"I'll pay you for the improvements, if that's all, " Starr said shortly. 

Helen May laughed. "That sounds exactly as though you want to get me outof the country, " she challenged. 

Starr did not rise to the bait. He took another long look for thehorseman, saw not so much as a flurry of dust, and slid the glasses intotheir case. 

"I brought out that carbine I was speaking about. And the shells that gowith it. I'm kind of a gun fiend, I guess. I'm always accumulating a lotof shooting irons I never use. I run across a six-shooter and belt, too. Come here, Rabbit!"

Rabbit came, and Starr untied the weapons, smiling boyishly. "You may aswell be using 'em; they'll only rust, kicking around in the shack. Bucklethis around you. I punched another hole or two, so the belt would comewithin a mile or so of fitting. You want to wear that every time you goout on the range. The time you leave it home is the very time when you'llsee a coyote or something. 

"And if you expect to get rich in the goat business, you never want topass up a coyote. There's a bounty on 'em, for one thing, because they dolots of damage among sheep and goats. And for another, " he addedimpressively, "the rabies that's been epidemic on the Coast is spreading. You've maybe read about it. A rabid coyote would come right at you, andyou know the consequences. Or it would bite Pat, and then Pat wouldtackle you. "

"Oh!" Helen May had turned a sickly shade. Her eyes went anxiously overthe slope as though she half expected something of the sort to happenthen and there. 

"That's why, " said Starr solemnly, looking down into her face, "I'm kindaworried about you ranging around afoot and without a gun--"

"But nobody else has even mentioned--"

"Everybody else goes prepared, and they're inclined to take chances as amatter of course. I reckon they think you know all about rabies being inthe country. This has always been a scrappy kinda place, remember, andfolks are used to packing guns and using 'em when the case demands it. You wear this six-gun, lady, and keep your eyes open from now on. I'vegot another one for Vic; an automatic. Now we'll go down here in theshade and practice shooting. I brought plenty of shells, and I want tolearn you how to handle a gun. "

Silently she followed him down the slope on the side toward the Basin. Hestopped beside the pinto, took it by the bridle-reins and, whipping outhis gun, fired it once to test the horse. The pinto twitched its ears atthe sound and looked at Starr. Starr laughed. 

"I'll learn you to shoot from horseback, " he called back to Helen May. "He's broke to it, I can see now. "

"Oh, I wonder if I could! Don't tell Vic, will you? I'd like to takehim by surprise. Boys are so conceited and self-sufficient! You'dthink Vic was my grandfather, the way he lords it over me. First ofall, what is the right way to get on a horse? I wish you'd teach meabout riding, too. "

This sort of instruction grew absorbing to both. Before either guessedhow the time had flown, the sun stood straight overhead; and Pat, standing in front of her with an expectant look in his eyes and anoccasional wag of his stubby tail, reminded Helen May that it was timefor lunch. They had used almost a full box of shells, and Helen May hadsucceeded in shooting from the back of the pinto and in hitting a certainsmall hummock of pure sand twice in six shots. She was tremendouslyproud of the feat, and she took no pains to conceal her pride. She wantedto start in on another box of shells, but Pat's eyes were so reproachful, and her sense of hospitality was so urgent that she decided to wait untilthey had eaten the lunch she had brought with her. 

The rocks which had cast a shadow were now baking in the glare, and thesand where Helen May and Starr had sat was radiating heat waves. Starrtook another long look down toward Medina's ranch through his fieldglasses, while Helen May went to find a comfortable bit of shade. 

"If you'll come over this way, Mr. Starr, " she called abruptly, "I'llgive you a sandwich. It's hot everywhere to-day, but this is a littlebetter than out in the sun. "

Starr took the glasses down from his eyes and let them dangle by theircord while he walked over the nose of the ridge to where she waswaiting for him. 

Half-way there, a streak of fire seemed to sear his arm near hisshoulder. Starr knew the feeling well enough. He staggered and wentdown headlong in a clump of greasewood, and at the same instant thereport of a rifle came clearly from the high pinnacle at the head ofSunlight Basin. 

Helen May came running, her face white with horror, for she had seenStarr fall just as the sound of the shot came to tell her why. She didnot cry out, but she rushed to where he lay half concealed in the bushes. When she came near him, she stopped short. For Starr was lying on hisstomach with his head up and elbows in the sand, steadying the glasses tohis eyes that he might search that pinnacle. 

"W-what made you fall down like that?" Helen May cried exasperatedly. "I--I thought you were shot!"

"I am, to a certain extent, " Starr told her unconcernedly. "Kneel downhere beside me and act scared, will you? And in a minute I want you toclimb on the pinto and ride around behind them rocks and wait for me. Take Rabbit with you. Act like you was going for help, or was scaredand running away from a corpse. You get me? I'll crawl over there aftera little. "

"W-why? Are you hurt so you can't walk?"

Helen May did not have to act; she was scared quite enough forStarr's purpose. 

"Oh, I could walk, but walking ain't healthy right now. Jump up now andclimb your horse like you was expecting to ride him down to a whisper. Goon--beat it. And when you get outa sight of the pinnacle, stay outasight. Run!"

There were several questions which Helen May wanted to ask, but she onlygave him a hasty, imploring glance which Starr did not see at all, sincehis eyes were focussed on the pinnacle. She ran to the pinto and scaredhim so that he jumped away from her. Starr heard and glanced impatientlyback at her. He saw that she had managed to get the reins and wasmounting with all the haste and all the awkwardness he could possiblyexpect of her, and he grinned and returned to his scrutiny of the peak. 

Whatever he saw he kept to himself; but presently he began to wrigglebackward, keeping the greasewood clump, and afterwards certain rocks andlittle ridges, between himself and a view of the point he had fixed uponas the spot where the shooter had stood. 

When he had rounded the first rock ledge he got up and looked for HelenMay, and found her standing a couple of rods off, watching him anxiously. He smiled reassuringly at her while he dusted his trousers with the flatof his hands. 

"Fine and dandy, " he said. "Whoever took a pot-shot at me thinks he gotme first crack. See? Now listen, lady. That maybe was some herder outgunning for coyotes, and maybe he was gunning for me. I licked a herderthat ranges over that way, and he maybe thought he'd play even. Butanyway, don't say anything about it to anybody, will you. I kinda--"

"Why not? If he shot at you, he wanted to kill you. And that's murder; heought to be--"

"Now, you know you said yourself that herders go crazy. I don't want toget the poor boob into trouble. Let's not say anything about it. I've gotto go now; I've stayed longer than I meant to, as it is. Have Vic putthat halter that's on the saddle on the pinto, and tie the rope to it andlet it drag. He won't go away, and you can catch him without any bother. If Vic don't know how to set the saddle, you take notice just how it'sfixed when you take it off. I meant to show you how, but I can't stopnow. And don't go anywhere, not even to the mail box, without Pat or yoursix-gun, or both. Come here, Rabbit, you old scoundrel!

"I wish I could stay, " he added, swinging up to the saddle and lookingdown at her anxiously. "Don't let Vic monkey with that automatic till Icome and show him how to use it. I--"

"You said you were shot, " said Helen May, staring at him enigmaticallyfrom under her lashes. "Are you?"

"Not much; burnt a streak on my arm, nothing to bother about. Nowremember and don't leave your gun--"

"I don't believe it was because you licked a herder. What made somebodyshoot at you? Was it--on account of Pat?"

"Pat? No, I don't see what the dog would have to do with it. It was somehalf-baked herder, shooting maybe because he heard us shoot and thoughtwe was using him for a target. You can't, " Starr declared firmly, "tellwhat fool idea they'll get into their heads. It was our shooting, mostlikely. Now I must go. Adios, I'll see yuh before long. "

"Well, but what--"

Helen May found herself speaking to the scenery. Starr was gone withRabbit at a sliding trot down the slope that kept the ridge between himand the pinnacle. She stood staring after him blankly, her hat askew onthe back of her head, and her lips parted in futile astonishment. She didnot in the least realize just what Starr's extreme caution had meant. Shehad no inkling of the real gravity of the situation, for her ignorance ofthe lawless possibilities of that big, bare country insulated her againstunderstanding. 

What struck her most forcibly was the cool manner in which he had orderedher to act a part, and the unhesitating manner in which she had obeyedhim. He ordered her about, she thought, as though he had a right; and sheobeyed as though she recognized that right. 

She watched him as long as he was in sight, and tried to guess where hewas going and what he meant to do, and what was his business--what he didfor a living. He must be a rancher, since he had said he was looking forstock; but it was queer he had never told her where his ranch lay, or howfar off it was, or anything about it. 

After a little it occurred to her that Starr would want the man who hadshot at him to think she had left that neighborhood, so she called toPat and had him drive the goats around where they could not be seen fromthe pinnacle. 

Then she sat down and ate her sandwiches thoughtfully, with long, meditative intervals between bites. She regarded the pinto curiously, wondering if Starr had really taken him as security for a debt, andwishing that she had asked him what its name was. It was queer, the wayhe rode up unexpectedly every few days, always bringing something hethought she needed, and seeming to take it for granted that she wouldaccept everything he offered. It was much queerer that she did accepteverything without argument or hesitation. For that matter, everythingthat concerned Starr was queer, from Helen May's point of view. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HELEN MAY UNDERSTANDS

Pat, lying at her feet and licking his lips contentedly after his boneand the crusts of her sandwich, raised his head suddenly and rumbled agrowl somewhere deep in his chest. His upper lip lifted and showed histeeth wickedly, and the hair on the back of his neck stood out in a ruffthat made him look a different dog. 

Helen May felt a cold shiver all up and down her spine. She had neverseen Pat, nor any other dog for that matter, look like that. It was muchmore terrifying than that mysterious shot which had effected Starr sostrangely. Pat was staring directly behind her, and his eyes had agreenish tinge in the iris, and the white part was all pink andbloodshot. Helen May thought he must have rabies or something; or else arabid coyote was up on the ridge behind her. She wanted to scream, butshe was afraid; she was afraid to look behind her, even. 

Pat got up and stood digging his toe nails into the earth in the mosthorribly suggestive way imaginable. The green light in his eyesterrified her. His ruff bristled bigger on his neck. He looked ready tospring at something. Helen May was too scared to move so much as afinger. She waited, and her heart began beating so hard in her throatthat it nearly suffocated her. She never once thought of the six-shooterwhich Starr had given her. She did not think of anything, except that arabid coyote was right behind her, and in a minute Pat would jump at it, if it did not first jump at her! And then Pat would be bitten, and wouldgo mad and bite her and Vic, and they'd all die horribly of hydrophobia. 

"Ah--is this a modern, dramatic version of Beauty and the Beast? If so, it is a masterpiece in depicting perfect repose on the part of Beauty, while the Beast vivifies the protective instinct of the stronger towardthe weaker. Speaking in the common parlance, if you will call off yourdog, Miss Stevenson, I might be persuaded to venture within hand-shakingdistance. " A little laugh, that was much more humorous than the words, followed the speech. 

Helen May felt as though she were going to faint. "Pat!" she tried to sayadmonishingly; but her voice was a weak whisper that did not carry tenfeet. She pulled herself together and tried again. "Pat, lie down!"

Pat turned his bead a trifle and sent her a tolerant glance, but thehair did not lie down on his neck, and the growl did not cease to rumblein his throat. 

"Pat!" Helen May began to recover a little from the reaction. "Come hereto me! I--don't think he'll bite you, Mr. Sommers. It's--it's onlyMexicans that he's supposed to hate. I--I didn't know it was you. "

Holman Sommers, being careful to keep a safe distance between himself andPat, came around to where he could see her face. "As a matter of fact, "he began, "it's really my sister who came to visit you. Your brotherinformed us that you were out here, and I came to tell you. Why, did Ifrighten you so badly, Miss Stevenson? Your face is absolutely colorless. What did I do to so terrify you? I surely never intended--" His eyes wereremorseful as he stood and looked at her. 

"It was just the way Pat acted. I--I'd been hearing about rabid coyotes, and I thought one was behind me, Pat acted so queer. Lie down, Pat!"

Holman Sommers spoke to the dog ingratiatingly, but Pat did not exhibitany tail-wagging desire for friendly acquaintance. He slunk over toHelen May and flattened himself on his belly with his nose on his paws, and his eyes, that still showed greenish lights and bloodshot whites, fixed on the man. 

"It may be, " said Sommers judgmatically, "that he has been taught toresent strangers coming in close proximity to the animals he has incharge. A great many dogs are so trained, and are therefore in no wise toblame for exhibiting a certain degree of ferocity. The canine mind iswholly lacking in the power of deduction, its intelligence consistingrather of a highly developed instinctive faculty for retainingimpressions which invariably express themselves in some concrete formsuch as hate, fear, joy, affection and like primitive emotions. Pat, forinstance, has been taught to regard strangers as interlopers. Hetherefore resents the presence of all strangers, and has no mentalfaculty for distinguishing between strangers, as such, and actualintruders whose presence is essentially undesirable. "

Helen May gave a little, half-hysterical laugh, and Holman Sommers lookedat her keenly, as a doctor sometimes looks at a patient. 

"I am intensely sorry that my coming frightened you, " he said gently. Then he laughed. "I am also deeply humiliated at the idea of beingmistaken, in the broad light of midday, for a rabid coyote. May I askjust wherein lies the resemblance?"

Helen May looked at him, saw the dancing light in his eyes and a mirthfulquirk of his lips, and blushed while she smiled. 

"It's just that I happened to be thinking about them, " she said, instinctively belittling her fear. "And then I never saw Pat act the wayhe's acting now. "

Holman Sommers regarded the dog with the same keen, studying look he hadgiven Helen May. Pat did not take it as calmly, however, as Helen May haddone. Pat lifted his upper lip again and snarled with an extremelyconcrete depiction of the primitive emotion, hate. 

"There _are_ such things as rabid coyotes, aren't there? Just--do youknow how they act, and how a person could tell when something has caughtthe disease from them?"

"I think I may safely assert that there undoubtedly are rabid coyotes inthe country. As a matter of fact, and speaking relatively, they havebeen, and probably still are, somewhat of a menace to stock runningabroad without a herder amply provided with the means of protecting hischarge. At the same time I may point with pardonable pride to theconcerted action of both State and Stock Association to rid the countryof these pests. So far we feel highly gratified at the success which hasattended our efforts. I gravely doubt whether you would now find, in thiswhole county, a single case of infection. But on the other hand, I couldnot, of course, venture to state unqualifiedly that there may not becertain isolated cases--"

"Pat! Do stop that growling! What ails you, anyway? I never saw him actthat way before. I wonder if he could possibly be--" She looked atSommers questioningly. 

"Infected?" he finished for her understandingly. "As a matter of fact, that may be possible, though I should not consider it altogetherprobable. Since the period of incubation varies from three weeks to sixmonths, as in man, the dog may possibly have been infected before cominginto your possession. If that were true, you would have no means ofdiscovering the fact until he exhibits certain premonitory symptoms, which may or may not form in themselves conclusive evidence of thepresence of the disease. "

Helen May got up from the rock and moved away, eyeing Pat suspiciously. Pat got up and followed her, keeping a watchful eye on Sommers. 

"What are the symptoms, for gracious sake?" she demanded fretfully, worried beyond caring how she chose her words for Holman Sommers. "Hiseyes look queer, don't you think?"

"Since you ask me, and since the subject is not one to be dismissedlightly, I will say that I have been studying the dog's attitude withsome slight measure of concern, " Holman Sommers admitted guardedly. "Thesuffused eyeball is sometimes found in the premonitory stage of thedisease, after incubation has progressed to a certain degree. Alsoirritability, nervousness, and depression are apt to be present. Has thedog exhibited any tendency toward sluggishness, Miss Stevenson?"

"Well, he's been lying around most of the time to-day, " Helen Mayconfessed, staring at Pat apprehensively. "Of course, there hasn't beenanything much for him to do. But he certainly does act queer, just sinceyou came. "

Holman Sommers spoke with the prim decision of a teacher instructing aclass, but that seemed to be only his way, and Helen May was growing usedto it. "His evidencing a tendency toward sluggishness to-day, and hissubsequent irritability, may or may not be significant of an abnormality. If, however, the dog progresses to the stage of hyperaesthesia, and themuscles of deglutition become extremely rigid, so that he cannot swallow, convulsions will certainly follow. There will also appear in the mouthand throat a secretion of thick, viscid mucus, with thickened saliva, which will be an undubitable proof of rabies. "

Having thus innocently damned poor Pat with the suspicion of a dreadfulmalady, Sommers made a scientific attempt to soothe Helen May's fears. He advised, with many words and much kind intent, that Pat be muzzleduntil the "hyperaesthesia" did or did not develop. Helen May thought thatthe terribly-termed symptoms might develop before they could get a muzzlefrom town, but she did not like to say so. 

Partly to be hospitable, and partly to get away from Pat, she mounted thepinto, told Pat to watch the goats, and rode down to the house to seeMartha Sommers. She did not anticipate any pleasure in the visit, much asshe had longed for the sound of a woman's voice. She was really worriedhalf to death over Starr, and the rabies, and Pat, and the naggingconsciousness that she had not accomplished as much copying of manuscriptas Holman Sommers probably expected. 

She did not hear half of what Sommers was saying on the way to the cabin. His very amiability jarred upon her nervous depression. She had alwaysliked him, and respected his vast learning, but to-day she certainly didnot get much comfort out of his converse. She wondered why she had beenso light-hearted while Starr was with her showing her how to shoot, andlecturing her about the danger of going gunless abroad; and why she wasso perfectly dejected when Holman Sommers talked to her about the verysame thing. Starr had certainly painted things blacker than Holman haddone, but it did not seem to have the same effect. 

"I don't see what we're going to do for a muzzle, " she launched suddenlyinto the middle of Holman Sommers' scientific explanation of mirages. 

"Vic can undoubtedly construct one out of an old strap, " Holman Sommersretorted impatiently, and went on discoursing about refraction andreflection and the like. 

Helen May tried to follow him, and gave it up. When they werealmost to the spring she again unwittingly jarred Holman Sommersout of his subject. 

"Did all those words you used mean that Pat will foam at the mouth likemad dogs you read about?" she asked abruptly. 

Holman Sommers, tramping along beside the pinto, looked at her queerly. "If Pat does not, I strongly suspect that I shall, " he told herweightily, but with a twinkle in his eyes. "I have been endeavoring, MissStevenson, to wean your thoughts away from so unhappy a subject. Whypermit yourself to be worried? The thing will happen, or it will nothappen. If it does happen, you will be powerless to prevent. If it doesnot, you will have been anxious over a chimera of the imagination. "

"Chimera of the imagination is a good line, " laughed Helen Mayflippantly. "All the same, if Pat is going to gallop all over thescenery, foaming at the mouth and throwing fits at the sight of water--"

"As a matter of fact, " Holman Sommers was beginning again in his mostinstructive tone, when a whoop from the spring interrupted him. 

Vic had hobbled obligingly down there to get cool water for the plumplady who was Holman Sommers' sister, and he had nearly stepped on asleepy rattler stretched out in the sun. Vic was making a collection ofrattles. He had one set, so far, of five rattles and a "button. " Hewanted to get these which were buzzing stridently enough for threesnakes, it seemed to Vic. He was hopping around on his good foot andthrowing rocks; and the snake, having retreated to a small heap of loosecobblestones, was thrusting his head out in vicious little strikinggestures, and keeping the scaly length of him bidden. 

"Wait a minute, I'll get him, Vic, " called Helen May, suddenly anxious toshow off her newly acquired skill with firearms. Starr had told her thatlots of people killed rattlesnakes by shooting their heads off. Shewanted to try it, anyway, and show Vic a thing or two. So she rode up asclose as she dared, though the pinto shied away from the ominous sound;pulled her pearl-handled six-shooter from its holster, aimed, and firedat the snake's head. 

You have heard, no doubt, of "fool's luck. " Helen May actually tore thewhole top off that rattlesnake's head (though I may as well say righthere that she never succeeded in shooting another snake) and rodenonchalantly on to the cabin as though she had done nothing at allunusual, but smiling to herself at Vic's slack-jawed amazement at seeingher on horseback, with a gun and such uncanny skill in the use of it. 

She felt better after that, and she rather enjoyed the plump sister ofHolman Sommers. The plump sister called him Holly, and seemed to beinordinately proud of his learning and inordinately fond of nagging athim over little things. She was what Helen May called a vegetable type ofwoman. She did not seem to have any great emotions in her make-up. Shesat in the one rocking-chair under the mesquite tree and crocheted laceand talked comfortably about Holly and her chickens in the same breath, and frankly admired Helen May's "spunk" in living out alone like that. 

"Don't overlook Vic, though, " Helen May put in generously. "I honestlydon't believe I could stand it without Vic. "

The plump sister seemed unimpressed. "In this country, " she said with acertain snug positiveness that was the keynote of her personality, "it'sthe women that have the courage. They wouldn't be here if they didn'thave. Think how close we are to the Mexican border, for instance. Anything that is horrible to woman can come out of Mexico. Not that Ilook down on them over there, " she added, with a complacent tolerance inher tone. "They are victims of the System that has kept them degraded andignorant. But until they are lifted up and educated and raised to ourstandards they are bad. 

"You can't get around it, Holly, those ignorant Mexicans are _bad_!" Shehad lifted her eyes accusingly to where Holman Sommers sat on the groundwith his knees drawn up and his old Panama hat hung upon them. He wassmoking a pipe, and he did not remove it from his mouth; but Helen Maysaw that amused quirk of the lips just the same. 

"You can't get around it. You know it as well as I do, " she reiterated. "Cannibals are worth saving, but before they are saved they are liable toeat the missionary. And it's the same thing with your Mexicans. You wantto educate them and raise them to your standards, and that's all right asfar as it goes. But in the meantime they're bad. And if Miss Stevensonwasn't such a good shot, I wouldn't be able to sleep nights, thinking ofher living up here alone, with just a boy for protection. "

"Why, I never heard of such a thing as any danger from Mexicans!" HelenMay looked inquiringly from plump sister to cynical brother. 

"Well, you needn't wonder at Holly not telling you, " said the plumpsister, --her name was Maggie. "Holly's a fool about some things. Hollyis trying the Uplift, and he shuts his eyes to things that don't fit inwith his theories. If you've copied much of that stuff he's beenwriting, you ought to know how impractical he is. Holly's got his headin the clouds, and he won't look at what's right under his feet. " Againshe looked reproof at Holly, and again Holly's lips quirked around thestem end of his pipe. 

"You just keep your eyes open, Miss Stevenson, " she admonished, in apurring, comfortable voice. "I ain't afraid, myself, because I've gotHolly and my cousin Todd, when he's at home. And besides, Holly's alwaysdoing missionary stunts, and the Mexicans like him because he'll let themrob him right and left and come back and take what they forgot the firsttime, and Holly won't do a thing to them. But you don't want to take anychances, away off here like you are. You lock your door good at night, and you sleep with a gun under your pillow. And don't go off anywherealone. My, even with a gun you ain't any too safe!"

Helen May gave a gasp. But Holman Sommers laughed outright--an easy, chuckling laugh that partly reassured her. "Danger is Maggie's favoritejoke, " he said tolerantly. "As a matter of fact, and speaking from aclose, personal knowledge of the people hereabouts, I can assure you, Miss Stevenson, that you are in no danger whatever from the source mysister indicates. "

"Well, but Holly, I've said it, and I'll say it again; you can't tell_what_ may come up out of Mexico. " Plump Maggie rolled up her lace andjabbed the ball decisively with the crochet hook, "We'll have to go now, or the chickens will be wondering where their supper is coming from. Youdo what I say, and lock your doors at night, and have your gun handy, Miss Stevenson. Things may look calm enough on the surface, but theyain't, I can tell you that!"

"Woman, cease!" cried Holly banteringly, while he dusted his baggytrousers with his palms. "Miss Stevenson will be haunted by nightmares ifyou keep on. "

Once they were gone, Helen May surrendered weakly to one fear, to theextent that she let Vic take the carbine and the pinto and ride over towhere she had left Pat and the goats, for the simple reason that shedreaded to face alone that much maligned dog. Vic, to be sure, would havequarreled with her if necessary, to get a ride on the pinto, and he was agood deal astonished at Helen May's sweet consideration of a boy'shunger for a horse. But she tempered his joy a bit by urging him to keepan eye on Pat, who had been acting very queer. 

"He kept ruining up his back and showing his teeth at Mr. Sommers, " sheexplained nervously. "If he does it when you go, Vic, and if he foams atthe mouth, you'd better shoot him before he bites something. If a mad dogbites you, you'll get hydrophobia, and bark and growl like a dog, andhave fits and die. "

"G-oo-d _night_!" Vic ejaculated fervently, and went loping awkwardlydown the trail past the spring. 

That left Helen May alone and free to think about the horrors that mightcome up out of Mexico, and about the ignorant Mexicans who, until theyare uplifted, are bad. It seemed strange that, if this were true, Starrhad never mentioned the danger. And yet--

"I'll bet anything that's just what Starr-of-the-Desert did mean!" sheexclaimed aloud, her eyes fixed intently on the toes of her scuffedboots. "He just didn't want to scare me too much and make me suspiciousof everybody that came along, and so he talked mad coyotes at me. But itwas Mexicans he meant; I'll bet anything it was!"

If that was what Starr meant, then the shot from the pinnacle, andStarr's crafty, Indian-like method of getting away unseen, took on anew and sinister meaning. Helen May shivered at the thought of Starrriding away in search of the man who had tried to kill him, and of therisk he must be taking. And what if the fellow came back, sneaking backin the dark, and tried to get in the house, or something? It surely waslucky that Starr-of-the-Desert had just happened to bring those guns. 

But had he just _happened_ to bring them? Helen May was not stupid, evenif she were ignorant of certain things she ought to know, living outalone in the wild. She began to see very clearly just what Starr hadmeant; just how far he had _happened_ to have extra guns in his shack, and had just _happened_ to get hold of a horse that she and Vic coulduse; and the dog, too, that hated Mexicans!

"That's why he hates to have me stay on the claim!" she deduced at last. "Only he just wouldn't tell me right out that it isn't safe. That's whathe meant by asking if dad knew the chances I'd have to take. Well, daddidn't know, but after the price dad paid, why--I've got to stay, andmake good. There's no sense in being a coward about it. Starr wouldn'twant me to be a coward. He's just scheming around to make it as safe ashe can, without making me cowardly. "

A slow, half-tender smile lit her chestnut-tinted eyes, and tilted herlips at the corners. "Oh, you desert man o' mine, I see through younow!" she said under her breath, and kept on smiling afterwards, sincethere was not a soul near to guess her thoughts. "Desert man o' mine"was going pretty strong, if you stop to think of it; but Helen May wouldhave died--would have lied--would have gone to any lengths to keep Starrfrom guessing she had ever thought such a thing about him. That was thewoman of her. 

The woman of her it was too that kept her dwelling pleasedly on Starr'sshy, protective regard for her, instead of watching the peaks in fear andtrembling lest another bad, un-uplifted Mexican should be watching achance to send another bullet zipping down into the Basin on its missionof wanton wickedness. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

STARR SEES TOO LITTLE OR TOO MUCH

Carefully skirting the ridge where Helen May had her goats; keepingalways in the gulches and never once showing himself on high ground, Starr came after a while to a point where he could look up to thepinnacle behind Sunlight Basin, from the side opposite the point wherehe had wriggled away behind a bush. He left Rabbit hidden in abrush-choked arroyo that meandered away to the southwest, and begancautiously to climb. 

Starr did not expect to come upon his man on the peak; indeed he wouldhave been surprised to find the fellow still there. But that peak was asgood as any for reconnoitering the surrounding country, was higher thanany other within several miles, in fact. What he did hope was to pick upwith his glasses the man's line of retreat after a deed he must believesuccessfully accomplished. And there might be some betraying sign therethat would give him a clue. 

There was always the possibility, however, that the fellow had lingeredto see what took place after the supposed killing. He must believe thatthe girl who had been with Starr would take some action, and he mightwant to know to a certainty what that action was. So Starr wentcarefully, keeping behind boulders and rugged outcroppings and in thebottom of deep, water-worn washes when nothing else served. He did notthink the fellow, even if he stayed on the peak, would be watching behindhim, but Starr did not take any chances, and climbed rather slowly. 

He reached the summit at the left of where the man had stood when heshot; very close to the spot where Helen May had stood and looked uponVic and the goats and the country she abhorred. Starr saw her tracksthere in a sheltered place beside a rock and knew that she had been upthere, though in that dry soil he could not, of course, tell when. Whenthat baked soil takes an imprint, it is apt to hold it for a long whileunless rain or a real sand-storm blots it out. 

He hid there for a few minutes, craning as much as he dared to see ifthere were any sign of the man he wanted. In a little he left that spotand crept, foot by foot, over to the cairn, the "sheepherder's monument, "behind which the fellow had stood. There again he found the prints ofHelen May's small, mountain boots, prints which he had come to know verywell. And close to them, looking as though the two had stood together, were the larger, deeper tracks of a man. 

Starr dared not rise and stand upright. He must keep always under coverfrom any chance spying from below. He could not, therefore, trace thefootprints down the peak. But he got some idea of the man's directionwhen he left, and he knew, of course, where to find Helen May. He did notconnect the two in his mind, beyond registering clearly in his memory thetwo sets of tracks. 

He crept closer to the Basin side of the peak and looked down, followingan impulse he did not try to analyze. Certainly he did not expect to seeany one, unless it were Vic, so he had a little shock of surprise when hesaw Helen May riding the pinto up past the spring, with a man walkingbeside her and glancing up frequently into her face. Starr was human; Ihave reminded you several times how perfectly human he was. Heimmediately disliked that man. When he heard faintly the tones of HelenMay's laugh, he disliked the man more. 

He got down, with his head and his arms--the left one was lame inthe biceps--above a rock. He made sure that the sun had swung aroundso it would not shine on the lenses and betray him by anyheliographic reflection, and focussed his glasses upon the two. Hesaw as well as heard Helen May laugh, and he scowled over it. Butmostly he studied the man. 

"All right for you, old boy, " he muttered. "I don't know who the devilyou are, but I don't like your looks. " Which shows how human jealousywill prejudice a man. 

He saw Vic throwing rocks at something which he judged was a snake, andhe saw Helen May rein the pinto awkwardly around, "square herself foraction, " as Starr would have styled it, and fire. By her elation;artfully suppressed, by the very carelessness with which she shoved thegun in its holster, he knew that she had hit whatever she shot at. Hecaught the tones of Holman Sommers' voice praising her, and he hated thetones. He watched them come on up to the little house, where theydisappeared at the end where the mesquite tree grew. Sitting in the shadethere, talking, he guessed they were doing, and for some reason heresented it. He saw Vic lift a rattlesnake up by its tail, and heard himyell that it had six rattles, and the button was missing. 

After that Starr turned his hack on the Basin and began to searchscowlingly the plain. He tried to pull his mind away from Helen May andher visitor and to fix it upon the would-be assassin. He believed thatthe horseman he had seen earlier in the day might be the one, and helooked for him painstakingly, picking out all the draws, all the drywashes and arroyos of that vicinity. The man would keep under cover, ofcourse, in making his getaway. He would not ride across a ridge if hecould help it, any more than would Starr. 

Even so, from that height Starr could look down into many of the deepplaces. In one of them he caught sight of a horseman picking his waycarefully along the boulder-strewn bottom. The man's back was toward him, but the general look of him was Mexican. The horse was bay with a rustyblack tail, but there were in New Mexico thousands of bay horses withblack tails, so there was nothing gained there. The rider seemed to bemaking toward Medina's ranch, though that was only a guess, since thearroyo he was following led in that direction at that particular place. Later it took a sharp turn to the south, and the rider went out of sightbefore Starr got so much as a glimpse at his features. 

He watched for a few minutes longer, sweeping his glasses slowly toright and left. He took another look down into the Basin and saw no onestirring, that being about the time when the plump sister was rollingup her fancy work and tapering off her conversation to the point ofmaking her adieu. Starr did not watch long enough for his own peace ofmind. Five more minutes would have brought the plump one into plainview with her brother and Helen May, and would have identified HolmanSommers as the escort of a lady caller. But those five minutes Starrspent in crawling back down the peak on the side farthest from theBasin, leaving Holman Sommers sticking in his mind with the unpleasantflavor of mystery. 

He mounted Rabbit again and made a detour of several miles so that hemight come up on the ridge behind Medina's without running any risk ofcrossing the trail of the men he wanted to watch. About two o'clock hestopped at a shallow, brackish stream and let Rabbit rest and feed for anhour while Starr himself climbed another rocky pinnacle and scanned thecountry between there and Medina's. 

The gate that let one off the main road and into the winding trail whichled to the house stood out in plain view at the mouth of a shallow draw. This was not the trail which led out from the home ranch toward SanBonito, where Starr had been going when he saw the track of themysterious automobile, but the trail one would take in going fromMedina's to Malpais. The ranch house itself stood back where the drawnarrowed, but the yellow-brown trail ribboned back from the gate inplain view. 

Here again Starr was fated to get a glimpse and no more. He focussed hisglasses on the main road first; picked up the Medina branch to the gate, followed the trail on up the draw, and again he picked up a man riding abay horse. And just as he was adjusting his lenses for a sharper clarityof vision, the horse trotted around a bend and disappeared from sight. 

Starr swore, but that did not bring the man back down the trail. Starrwas not at all sure that this was the same man he had seen in the draw, and he was not sure that either was the man who had shot at him. Butroosting on that heat-blistered pinnacle swearing about the things hedidn't know struck him as a profitless performance, so he climbed down, got into the saddle again, and rode on. 

He reached the granite ridge back of Medina's about four o'clock in theafternoon. He was tired, for he had been going since daylight, and for apart of the time at least he had been going on foot, climbing the steep, rocky sides of peaks for the sake of what he might see from the top, andthen climbing down again for sake of what some one else might see if hestayed too long. His high-heeled riding boots that Helen May so greatlyadmired were very good-looking and very comfortable when he had themstuck into stirrups to the heel. But they had never been built forwalking. Therefore his feet ached abominably. And there was the heat, thesearing, dry heat of midsummer in the desert country. He was dog tired, and he was depressed because he had not seemed able to accomplishanything with all his riding and all his scanning of the country. 

He climbed slowly the last, brown granite ridge, the ridge behind EstanMedina's house. He would watch the place and see what was going on there. Then, he supposed he should go back and watch _Las Nuevas_, though hischief seemed to think that he had discovered enough there for theirpurposes. He had sent on the pamphlets, and he knew that when the timewas right, _Las Nuevas_ would be muzzled with a postal law and, hehazarded, a seizure of their mail. 

What he had to do now was to find the men who were working in conjunctionwith _Las Nuevas_; who were taking the active part in organizing and incontrolling the Mexican Alliance. So far he had not hit upon the realleaders, and he knew it, and in his weariness was oppressed with a senseof failure. They might better have left him in Texas, he told himselfglumly. They sure had drawn a blank when they drew him into the SecretService, because he had accomplished about as much as a pup trying to rundown a coyote. 

A lizard scuttled out of his way, when he crawled between two bouldersthat would shield him from sight unless a man walked right up on himwhere he lay--and Starr did not fear that, because there were too manyloose cobbles to roll and rattle; he knew, because he had been twice aslong as he liked in getting to this point quietly. He took off his hat, telling himself morosely that you couldn't tell his head from a lump ofgranite anyway, when he had his hat off, and lifted his glasses to hisaching eyes. 

The Medina ranch was just showing signs of awakening after a siesta. Estan himself was pottering about the corral, and Luis, a boy abouteighteen years old, was fooling with a colt in a small enclosure that hadevidently been intended for a garden and had been permitted to grow up inweeds and grass instead. 

After a while a peona came out and fed the chickens, and hunted throughthe sheds for eggs, which she carried in her apron. She stopped to watchLuis and the colt, and Luis coaxed her to give him an egg, which he wasfeeding to the colt when his mother saw and called to him shrilly fromthe house. The peona ducked guiltily and ran, stooping, beside a stonewall that hid her from sight until she had slipped into the kitchen. Theseñora searched for her, scolding volubly in high-keyed Mexican, so thatEstan came lounging up to see what was the matter. 

Afterwards they all went to the house, and Starr knew that there would bereal, Mexican tortillas crisp and hot from the baking, and chili concarne and beans, and perhaps another savory dish or two which the señoraherself had prepared for her sons. 

Starr was hungry. He imagined that he could smell those tortillas fromwhere he lay. He could have gone down, and the Medinas would have greetedhim with lavish welcome and would have urged him to eat his fill. Theywould not question him, he knew. If they suspected his mission, theywould cover their suspicion with much amiable talk, and theirprotestations of welcome would be the greater because of theirinsincerity. But he did not go down. He made himself more comfortablebetween the boulders and settled himself to wait and see what the nightwould bring. 

First it brought the gorgeous sunset, that made him think of Helen Mayjust because it was beautiful and because she would probably be gazing upat the crimson and gold and all the other elusive, swift-changing shadesthat go to make a barbaric sunset. Sure, she would be looking at it, unless she was still talking to that man, he thought jealously. Itfretted him that he did not know who the fellow was. So he turned histhoughts away from the two of them. 

Next came the dusk, and after that the stars. There was no moon to taunthim with memories, or more practically, to light for him the nearcountry. With the stars came voices from the porch of the adobe housebelow him. Estan's voice he made out easily, calling out to Luis inside, to ask if he had shut the colt in the corral. The señora's high voicespoke swiftly, admonishing Luis. And presently Luis could be seen dimlyas he moved down toward the corrals. 

Starr hated this spying upon a home, but he held himself doggedly to thetask. Too many homes were involved, too many sons were in danger, toomany mothers would mourn if he did not play the spy to some purpose now. This very home he was watching would be the happier when he and hisfellows had completed their work and the snake of intrigue was beheadedjust as Helen May had beheaded the rattler that afternoon. This home washappy now, under the very conditions that were being deplored sobombastically in the circulars he had read. Why, then, should its peacebe despoiled because of political agitators?

Luis put the colt up for the night and returned, whistling, to the house. The tune he whistled was one he had learned at some movie show, and in aminute he broke into singing, "Hearts seem light, and life seems brightin dreamy Chinatown. " Starr, brooding up there above the boy, wished thatLuis might never be heavier of heart than now, when he went singing upthe path to the thick-walled adobe. He liked Luis. 

The murmur of voices continued, and after awhile there came plaintivelyup to Starr the sound of a guitar, and mingling with it the voice of Luissinging a Spanish song. _La Golondrina_, it was, that melancholy song ofexile which Mexicans so love. Starr listened gloomily, following thewords easily enough in that still night air. 

Away to the northwest there gleamed a brighter, more intimate star thanthe constellation above. While Luis sang, the watcher in the rocks fixedhis eyes wistfully on that gleaming pin point of light, and wondered whatHelen May was doing. Her lighted window it was; her window that lookeddown through the mouth of the Basin and out over the broken mesa landthat was half desert. Until then he had not known that her window saw sofar; though it was not strange that he could see her light, since he wason the crest of a ridge higher than any other until one reached the bluffthat held Sunlight Basin like a pocket within its folds. 

Luis finished the song, strummed a while, sang a popular rag-time, strummed again and, so Starr explained his silence, went to bed. Estanbegan again to talk, now and then lifting his voice, speaking earnestly, as though he was arguing or protesting, or perhaps expounding a theory ofsome sort. Starr could not catch the words, though he knew in a generalway the meaning of the tones Estan was using. 

A new sound brought him to his knees, listening: the sound of ahigh-powered engine being thrown into low gear and buzzing like angryhornets because the wheels did not at once grip and thrust the carforward. Sand would do that. While Starr listened, he heard the chuckleof the car getting under way, and a subdued purring so faint that, hadthere not been a slow, quiet breeze from that direction, the sound wouldnever have reached his ears at all. Even so, he had no more thanidentified it when the silence flowed in and covered it as a lazy tidecovers a pebble in the moist sand. 

Starr glanced down at the house, heard Estan still talking, and gotcarefully to his feet. He thought he knew where the car had slipped inthe sand, and he made toward the place as quickly as he could go in thedark and still keep his movements quiet. It was back in that arroyo wherehe had first discovered traces of the car he now felt sure had come fromthe yard of _Las Nuevas_. 

He remembered that on the side next him the arroyo had deep-cut banksthat might get him a nasty fall if he attempted them in the dark, so hetook a little more time for the trip and kept to the rougher, yet safer, granite-covered ridge. Once, just once, he caught the glow of dimmedheadlights falling on the slope farthest from him. He hurried faster, after that, and so he climbed down into the arroyo at last, near thepoint where he had climbed out of it that other day. 

He went, as straight as he could go in the dark, to the place where hehad first seen the tracks of the Silvertown cords. He listened, straininghis ears to catch the smallest sound. A cricket fiddled stridently, butthere was nothing else. 

Starr took a chance and searched the ground with a pocket flashlight. Hedid not find any fresh tracks, however. And while he was standing in thedark considering how the hills might have carried the sound deceptivelyto his ear, and how he may have been mistaken, from somewhere on theother side of the ridge came the abrupt report of a gun. The sound wasmuffled by the distance, yet it was unmistakable. Starr listened, heardno second shot, and ran back up the rocky gulch that led to the ridge hehad just left, behind Medina's house. 

He was puffing when he reached the place where he had lain between thetwo boulders, and he stopped there to listen again. It came, --the soundhe instinctively expected, yet dreaded to hear; the sound of a woman'shigh-keyed wailing. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"IS HE THEN DEAD--MY SON?"

Starr hurried down the bluff, slipping, sliding, running where the waywas clear of rocks. So presently he came to the stone wall, vaulted overit, and stopped beside the tragic little group dimly outlined in thehouse yard just off the porch. 

"My son--my son!" the old woman was wailing, on her knees beside a long, inert figure lying on its back on the hard-packed earth. Back of her thepeona hovered, hysterical, useless. Luis, half dressed and a good dealdazed yet from sleep and the suddenness of his waking, knelt beside hismother, patting her shoulder in futile affection, staring downbewilderedly at Estan. 

So Starr found them. Scenes like this were not so unusual in his life, which had been lived largely among unruly passions. He spoke quietly toLuis and knelt to see if the man lived. The señora took comfort from hiscalm presence and with dumb misery watched his deft movements while hefelt for heartbeats and for the wound. 

"But is he then dead, my son?" she wailed in Spanish, when Starr gentlylaid down upon Estan's breast the hand he had been holding. "But solittle while ago he lived and to me he talked. Ah, my son!"

Starr looked at her quietingly. "How, then, did it happen? Tell me, señora, that I may assist, " he said, speaking easily the Spanish whichshe spoke. 

"Ah, the good friend that thou art! Ah, my son that I loved! How can Itell what is mystery? Who would harm my son--my little Estan that was sogood? Yet a voice called softly from the dark--and me, I heard, though tomy bed I had but gone. 'Estan!' called the voice, so low. And my son--ah, my son!--to the door he went swiftly, the _lampara_ in his hand, holdingit high--so--that the light may shine into the dark. 

"'Who calls?' Me, I heard my son ask--ah, never again will I hear hisvoice! Out of the door he went--to see the man who called. To theporch-end he came--I heard his steps. Ah, my son! Never again thy dearfootsteps will I hear!" And she fell to weeping over him. 

"And then? Tell me, señora. What happened next?"

"Ah--the shot that took from me my son! Then feet running away--then Icame out--Ah, _querido mio_, that thou shouldst be torn from thymother thus!"

"And you don't know--?"

"No, no--no--ah, that my heart should break with sorrow--"

"Hush, mother! 'Twas Apodaca! He is powerful--and Estan would not comeinto the Alliance. I told him it would be--" Luis, kneeling there, beating his hands together in the dark, spoke with the heedlesspassion of youth. 

"Which Apodaca? Juan?" Starr's voice was low, with the sympathetic tonethat pulls open the floodgates of speech when one is stricken hard. 

"Not Juan; Juan is a fool. Elfigo Apodaca it was--or some one obeying hisorder. Estan they feared--Estan would not come in, and the time wascoming so close--and Estan held out and talked against it. I told him hislife would pay for his holding out. I _told_ him! And now I shall killApodaca--and my life also will pay--"

"What is this thou sayest?" The mother, roused from her lamentations bythe boy's vehemence, plucked at his sleeve. "But thou must not kill, mylittle son. Thou art--"

"Why not? They'll all be killing in a month!" flashed Luis unguardedly. 

Starr, kneeling on one knee, looked at the boy across Estan's chillingbody. A guarded glance it was, but a searching glance that questioned andweighed and sat in judgment upon the truth of the startling assertion. Yet younger boys than Luis are commanding troops in Mexico, for thewarlike spirit develops early in a land where war is the chief businessof the populace. It was not strange then that eighteen-year-old Luisshould be actively interested in the building of a revolution on thisside the border. It was less strange because of his youth; for Luis wouldhave all the fiery attributes of the warrior, unhindered by the cooljudgment of maturity. He would see the excitement, the glory of it. Estanwould see the terrible cost of it, in lives and in patrimony. Luis lovedaction. Estan loved his big flocks and his acres upon acres of land, andhis quiet home; had loved too his foster country, if he had spoken histrue sentiments. So Starr took his cue and thanked his good fortune thathe had come upon this tragedy while it was fresh, and while the shock ofit was loosening the tongue of Luis. 

"A month from now is another time, Luis, " he said quietly. "This ismurder, and the man who did it can be punished. "

"You can't puneesh Apodaca, " Luis retorted, speaking English, since Starrhad used the language, which put their talk beyond the mother'sunderstanding. "He is too--too high up--But I can kill, " he addedvindictively. 

"The law can get him better than you can, " Starr pointed out cannily. "Can you think of anybody else that might be in on the deal?"

"N-o--" Luis was plainly getting a hold on himself, and would not tellall he knew. "I don't know notheeng about it. "

"Well, what you'd better do now is saddle a horse and ride in to town andtell the coroner--and the sheriff. If you don't, " he added, when hecaught a stiffening of opposition in the attitude of Luis, "if you don't, you will find yourself in all kinds of trouble. It will look bad. Youhave to notify the coroner, anyway, you know. That's the law. And thecoroner will see right away that Estan was shot. So the sheriff will bebound to get on the job, and it will be a heap better for you, Luis, ifyou tell him yourself. And if you try to kill Apodaca, that will rob yourmother of both her sons. You must think of her. Estan would never bringtrouble to her that way. You stand in his place now. So you ride in andtell the sheriff and tell the coroner. Say that you suspect ElfigoApodaca. The sheriff will do the rest. "

"What does the señor advise, my son?" murmured the mother, plucking atthe sleeve of Luis. "The good friend he was to my poor Estan--my son! Dothou what he tells thee, for he is wise and good, and he would not guidethee wrong. "

Luis hesitated, staring down at the dead body of Estan. "I will go, " hesaid, breaking in upon the sound of the peona's reasonless weeping. "Iwill do that. The sheriff is not Mexican, or--" He checked himselfabruptly and peered across at Starr. "I go, " he repeated hastily. 

He stood up, and Starr rose also and assisted the old lady to her feet. She seemed inclined to cling to him. Her Estan had liked Starr, and forthat her faith in him never faltered now. He laid his arm protectivelyaround her shaking shoulders. 

"Señora, go you in and rest, " he commanded gently, in Spanish. "Have thegirl bring a blanket to cover Estan--for here he must remain until he isviewed by the coroner--you understand? Your son would be grieved if youdo not rest. You still have Luis, your little son. You must be brave andhelp Luis to be a man. Then will Estan be proud of you both. " So hesuited his speech to the gentle ways of the old señora, and led her backto the shelter of the porch as tenderly as Estan could have done. 

He sent the peona for a lamp to replace the one that had broken whenEstan fell with it in his hand. He settled the señora upon thecowhide-covered couch where her frail body could be comfortable and shestill could feel that she was watching beside her son. He placed a pillowunder her head, and spread a gay-striped serape over her, and tucked itcarefully around her slippered feet. The señora wept more quietly, andcalled him the son of her heart, and brokenly thanked God for thetenderness of all good men. 

He explained to her briefly that he had been riding to town by ashort-cut over the ridge when he heard the shot and hurried down; andthat, having left his horse up there, he must go up after it and bring itaround to the corral. He would not be gone longer than was absolutelynecessary, he told her, and he promised to come back and stay with herwhile the officers were there. Then he hurried away, the señora's brokenthanks lingering painfully in his memory. 

At the top of the bluff, where he had climbed as fast as he could, hestood for a minute to get his breath back. He heard the muffledpluckety-pluck of a horse galloping down the sandy trail, and he knewthat there went Luis on his bitter mission to San Bonito. His eyes turnedinvoluntarily toward Sunlight Basin. There twinkled still the light fromHelen May's window, though it was well past midnight. Starr wondered atthat, and hoped she was not sick. Then immediately his face grewlowering. For between him and the clear, twinkling light of her window hesaw a faint glow that moved swiftly across the darkness; an automobilerunning that way with dimmed headlights. 

"Now what in thunder does that mean?" he asked himself uneasily. He hadnot in the least expected that move. He had believed that the automobilehe had heard, which very likely had carried the murderer, would hurrystraight to town, or at least in that direction. But those dimmed lights, and in that the machine surely betrayed a furtiveness in its flight, seemed to be heading for Sunlight Basin, though it might merely be makingthe big loop on its way to Malpais or beyond. He stared again at thetwinkling light of Helen May's lamp. What in the world was she doing upat that hour of the night? "Oh, well, maybe she sleeps with a lightburning. " He dismissed the unusual incident, and went on about his moreurgent business. 

Rabbit greeted him with a subdued nicker of relief, telling plainly as ahorse can speak that he had been seriously considering foraging for hissupper and not waiting any longer for Starr. There he had stood for sixor seven hours, just where Starr had dismounted and dropped the reins. Hewas a patient little horse, and he knew his business, but there is alimit to patience, and Rabbit had almost reached it. 

Starr led him up over the rocky ridge into the arroyo where theautomobile had been, and from there he rode down to the trail and back tothe Medina ranch. He watered Rabbit at the ditch, pulled off the saddle, and turned him into the corral, throwing him an armful of secate from ahalf-used stack. Then he went up to the house and sat on the edge of theporch beside the señora, who was still weeping and murmuring yearningendearments to the ears that could not hear. 

He did not know how long he would have to wait, but he knew that Luiswould not spare his horse. He smoked, and studied the things which Luishad let drop; every word of immense value to him now. Elfigo Apodaca heknew slightly, and he wondered a little that he would be the Allianceleader in this section of the State. 

Elfigo Apodaca seemed so thoroughly Americanized that only his swarthyskin and black hair and eyes reminded one that he was after all a son ofthe south. He did a desultory business in real estate, and owned animmense tract of land, the remnant of an old Spanish grant, and went infor fancy cattle and horses. He seemed more a sportsman than apolitician--a broadminded, easy-going man of much money. Starr had stilla surprised sensation that the trail should lead to Elfigo. Juan, thebrother of Elfigo, he could find it much easier to see in the role ofconspirator. But horror does not stop to weigh words, and Starr knew thatLuis had spoken the truth in that unguarded moment. 

He pondered that other bit of information that had slipped out: "In amonth they'll all be killing. " That was a point which he and hiscolleagues had not been able to settle in their own minds, the proposeddate of the uprising. In a month! The time was indeed short, but now thatthey had something definite to work on, a good deal might be done in amonth; so on the whole Starr felt surprisingly cheerful. And if Elfigofound himself involved in a murder trial, it would help to hamper hisactivities with the Alliance. Starr regretted the death of Estan, but hekept thinking of the good that would come of it. He kept telling himselfthat the shooting of Estan Medina would surely put a crimp in therevolution. Also it would mark Luis for a mate to the bullet that reachedEstan, if that hotheaded youth did not hold his tongue. 

He was considering the feasibility of sending Luis and his mother out ofthe country for awhile, when the sheriff and coroner and Luis camerocking down the narrow trail in a roadster built for speed where speedwas no pleasure but a necessity. 

The sheriff was an ex-cattleman, with a desert-baked face and hard eyesand a disconcerting habit of chewing gum and listening and saying nothinghimself. For the sake of secrecy, Starr had avoided any acquaintance withhim and his brother officers, so the sheriff gave him several sharpglances while he was viewing the body and the immediate surroundings. Luis had told him, coming out, the meager details of the murder, and hehad again accused Elfigo Apodaca, though he had done some real thinkingon the way to town, and had cooled to the point where he chose his wordsmore carefully. The sheriff's name was O'Malley, which is reason enoughwhy Luis was chary of confiding Mexican secrets to his keeping. 

Elfigo Apodaca had quarreled with Estan, said Luis. He had come to theranch, and Luis had heard them quarreling over water rights. Elfigo hadthreatened to "get" Estan, and to "fix" him, and Luis had been afraidthat Estan would be shot before the quarrel was over. He had heard thevoice that called Estan out of the house that night, and he told thesheriff that he had recognized Elfigo's voice. Luis surely did all hecould to settle any doubt in the mind of the sheriff, and he felt that hehad been very smart to say they quarreled over water rights; a lawsuittwo years ago over that very water-right business lent convincingness tothe statement. 

The sheriff had not said anything at all after Luis had finished hisstory of the shooting. He had chewed gum with the slow, deliberate jaw ofa cow meditating over her cud, and he had juggled the wheel of hismachine and shifted his gears on hills and in sandy stretches with thesame matter-of-fact deliberation. Sheriff O'Malley might be called one ofthe old school of rail-roosting, stick-whittling thinkers. He took histime, and he did not commit himself too impulsively to any cause. But hecould act with surprising suddenness, and that made him always anuncertain factor, so that lawbreakers feared him as they fearednightmares. 

The sheriff, then, stood around with his hands in his pockets and hisfeet planted squarely under him, squeezing a generous quid of gumbetween his teeth and very slightly teetering on heels and toes, whilethe coroner made a cursory examination and observed, since it was cominggray daylight, how the lamp lay shattered just where it had fallen withEstan. He asked, in bad Spanish, a few questions of the grief-wornseñora, who answered him dully as she had answered Starr. She had heardthe call, yes. 

"You know Elfigo Apodaca?" the sheriff asked suddenly, and watched howthe eyes of the señora went questioningly, uneasily, to Luis; watched howshe hesitated before she admitted that she knew him. 

"You know his voice?"

But the señora closed her thin lips and shook her head, and in a minuteshe laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes also, and wouldtalk no more. 

The sheriff chewed and teetered meditatively, his eyes on the ground. From the tail of his eye Starr watched him, secretly willing to bet thathe knew what the sheriff was thinking. When O'Malley turned and strolledback to the porch, his hands still in his pockets and his eyes still onthe ground as though he were weighing the matter carefully, Starr stoodwhere he was, apparently unaware that the sheriff had moved. Starr seemedto be watching the coroner curiously, but he knew just when the sheriffpassed cat-footedly behind him, and he grinned to himself. 

The sheriff made one of his sudden moves, and jerked the six-shooter fromits holster at Starr's hip, pulled out the cylinder pin and released thecylinder with its customary five loaded chambers and an empty one underthe hammer. He tilted the gun, muzzle to him, toward the rising sun andsquinted into its barrel that shone with the care it got, save whereparticles of dust had lodged in the bore. He held the gun close under hisred nose and sniffed for the smell of oil that would betray a freshcleaning. And Starr watched him interestedly, smiling approval. 

"All right, far as you've gone, " he said casually, when the sheriff wasreplacing the cylinder in the gun. "If you want to go a step farther, Ireckon maybe I can show you where I come down off the bluff when Iheard the shot, and where I went back again after my horse. And you'llsee, maybe, that I couldn't shoot from the bluff and get a man aroundon the far side of the house. Won't take but a minute to show yuh. " Hegave the slight head tilt and the slight wink of one eye which, theworld over, asks for a secret conference, and started off around thecorner of the house. 

The sheriff followed noncommittally but he kept close at Starr's heels asthough he suspected that Starr meant to disappear somehow. So theyreached the bluff, which Starr knew would be out of hearing from thehouse so long as they did not speak loudly. He pointed down at the printsof his boots where he had left the rocks of the steep hillside for thesand of the level; and he even made a print beside the clearest track toshow the sheriff that he had really come down there as he climbed. But itwas plain that Starr's mind was not on the matter of footprints. 

"Keep on looking around here, like you was tracing up my trail, " he saidin a low voice, pointing downward. "I've got something I want to tellyuh, and I want you to listen close and get what I say, because I ain'tapt to repeat it. And I don't want that coroner to get the notion we'retalking anything over. That little play you made with my gun showed thatyou've got hoss sense and ain't overlooking any bets, and it may be thatI'll have use for yuh before long. Now listen. "

The sheriff listened, chewing industriously and wandering about whileStarr talked. His hard eyes changed a little, and twice he nodded hishead in assent. 

"Now you do that, " said Starr at last, with an air of one giving orders. "And see to it that you get a hearing as soon as possible. I can't appearexcept as a witness, of course, but I want a chance to size up thefellows that take the biggest interest in the trial. And keep it all onthe basis of a straight quarrel, if you can. You'll have to fix that upwith the prosecuting attorney, if you can trust him that far. "

"I can, Mr. Starr. He's my brother-in-law, and he's the best man we couldpick in the county for what you want. I get you, all right. There won'tbe anything drop about what you just told me. "

"There better hadn't be anything drop!" Starr told him dryly. "You'reinto something deeper than county work now, ole-timer. This is Federalbusiness, remember. Come on back and stall around some more, and let mego on about my own business. You can get word to me at the Palacia if youwant me at the inquest, but don't get friendly. I'm just a stock-buyerthat happened along. Keep it that way. "

"I sure will, Mr. Starr. I'll do my part. " The sheriff relapsed into hisruminative manner as he led the way back to the house. One may guess thatStarr had given him something worth ruminating about. 

In a few minutes, he told Starr curtly that he could go if he wanted to;and he bettered that by muttering to the coroner that he had a notion tohold the fellow, but that he seemed to have a pretty clear alibi, andthey could get him later if they wanted him. To which the coroner agreedin neighborly fashion. 

Starr was saddling Rabbit for another long ride, and he was scowlingthoughtfully while he did it. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A PAGE OF WRITING

Wind came with the sun and went shrieking across the high levels, takingwith it clouds of sand and bouncing tumbleweeds that rolled and lodgedfor a minute against some rock or bush and then went whirling on again ina fresh gust. Starr had not ridden two miles before his face began tofeel the sting of gravel in the sand clouds. His eyes, already achingwith a day's hard usage and a night of no sleep, smarted with the impactof the wind. He fumbled at the band of his big, Texas hat and pulled downa pair of motor goggles and put them on distastefully. Like blinders on ahorse they were, but he could not afford to face that wind withunprotected eyes--not when so very much depended upon his eyes and hisears and the keenest, coolest faculties of his mind. 

Still worry nagged at him. He wanted to know who was the man that hadvisited Helen May so soon after he had left, and he wanted to know why alight had shone from her window at one o'clock last night; and whetherthe automobile had been going to Sunlight Basin, or merely in thatdirection. 

He hurried, for he had no patience with worries that concerned Helen May. Besides, he meant to beg a breakfast from her, and he was afraid that ifhe waited too late she might be out with Pat and the goats, and he wouldhave to waste time on the kid (Vic would have resented that term asapplied to himself) who might be still laid up with his sprained ankle. 

He was not thinking so much this morning about the knowledge he hadgained in the night. He had given several quiet hours to thought uponthat subject, and he had his course pretty clearly defined in his mind. He also had Sheriff O'Malley thoroughly coached and prepared to do hispart. The matter of Elfigo Apodaca, then, he laid aside for the present, and concerned himself chiefly with what on the surface were trifles, butwhich, taken together, formed a chain of disquieting incidents. Rabbitfelt his master's desire for haste, and loped steadily along the trail, dropping now and then into his smooth fox-trot, that was almost as fast agait; so it was still early morning when he dropped reins outside andrapped on the closed door. 

Helen May opened the door cautiously, it seemed to him; a scant sixinches until she saw who he was, when she cried "Oh!" in a surprised, slightly confused tone, and let him in. Starr noticed two things at thefirst glance he gave her. The first was the blue crocheted cap which shewore; he did not know that it was called a breakfast-cap and that it wasvery stylish, for Starr, you must remember, lived apart from any intimatehome life that would familiarize him with such fripperies. The capsurprised him, but he liked the look of it even though he kept thatliking to himself. 

The second thing he noticed was that Helen May was hiding something inher right hand which was dropped to her side. When she had let him in andturned away to offer him a chair, he saw that she had the pearl-handledsix-shooter. 

She disappeared behind a screen, and came out with her right hand empty, evidently believing he had not seen how she had prepared herself for anemergency. She had only yesterday told him emphatically how harmless sheconsidered the country; and he had been careful to warn her only aboutrabid coyotes, so that without being alarmed, she would not go unarmedaway from home. It seemed queer to Starr that she should act as thoughshe expected rabid coyotes to come a-knocking at her door in broaddaylight. Had she, he thought swiftly, been only pretending that sheconsidered the country perfectly safe?

He could not help it; that six-shooter hidden in the folds of her skirtstuck in his mind. It was just a trifle, like her lighted window at oneo'clock in the morning; like that strange man who had called on her justafter Starr had left her, and with whom she had seemed to be on suchfriendly terms. He had warned her of coyotes. She was not supposed toknow that it was wise to arm herself before she opened her door to adaylight caller. At night, yes. But at seven o'clock in the morning?Starr did not suspect Helen May of anything, but he had been trained tosuspect mysterious trifles. In spite of himself, this trifle nagged athim unpleasantly. 

He fancied that Helen May was just a shade flustered in her welcome; justa shade nervous in her movements, in her laughter, in the very tones ofher voice. 

"You're out early, " she said. "Vic isn't up yet; I suppose the goatsought to be let out, too. You couldn't have had your breakfast--or haveyou? One can expect almost anything of a man who just rides out ofnowhere at all hours, and disappears into nowhere. "

"I shore wish that was so, " Starr retorted banteringly. "I wish I had toride nowhere to-day. "

"Oh, I meant the mystery of the unknown, " she hurried to correct herself. "You come out of the desert just any old time. And you go off into thedesert just as unexpectedly; by the way, did you--"

"Nope. I did not. " She might forget that Vic was in the house, but Starrnever forgot things of that sort, and he wilfully forestalled herintention to ask about the shooting. "I didn't have any supper, either, beyond a sandwich or two that was mostly sand after I'd packed 'em aroundall day. I just naturally had to turn tramp and come ask for a handout, when I found out at daylight how close I was to breakfast. "

"Why, of course. You know you won't have to beg very hard. I was justgoing to put on the coffee. So you make yourself at home, and I'll havebreakfast in a few minutes. Vic, for gracious sake, get up! Here'scompany already. And you'll have to let out the goats. Pat can keep themtogether awhile, but he can't open the gate, and I'm busy. "

Starr heard the prodigious yawn of the awakening Vic, who sleptbehind a screen in the kitchen, bedrooms being a superfluous luxuryin which Johnny Calvert had not indulged himself. Starr followed herto the doorway. 

"I'll go let out the goats, " he offered. "I want to take off the bridleanyway, so Rabbit can feed around a little. " He let himself out into thewhooping wind, feeling, for some inexplicable reason, depressed when hehad expected to feel only relief. 

"Lord! I'm getting to the point where anything that ain't accompanied bya chart and diagrams looks suspicious to me. She's got more hawse sensethan I gave her credit for, that's all. She musta seen through my yarnin'about them mad coyotes. She's pretty cute, coming to the door with hersix-gun just like a real one! And never letting on to me that she had itright handy. I must be getting off my feed or something, the way I takethings wrong. Now her being up late--I'm just going to mention how faroff I saw her light burning--and how late it was. I'll see what she saysabout it. "

But he did nothing of the kind, and for what he considered a very goodreason. The wind was blowing in eddying gusts, of the kind that seizesand whirls things; such a gust swooped into the room when he opened thedoor, seized upon some papers which lay on her writing desk, and sentthem clear across the room. 

Starr hastily closed the door and rescued the papers where they hadflattened against the wall; and he wished he had gone blind before he sawwhat they were. A glance was all he gave, at first--the involuntaryglance which one gives to a bit of writing picked up in an odd place--butthat was enough to chill his blood with the shock of damningenlightenment. A page of writing, it was, fine, symmetrical, hard todecipher--a page of Holly Sommers' manuscript; you know that, of course. 

But Starr did not know. He only knew the writing matched the pages ofrevolutionary stuff he had found in the office of _Las Nuevas. _ There wasno need of comparing the two; the writing was unmistakable. And hebelieved that Helen May was the writer. He believed it when he glanced upand saw her coming in from the kitchen, and saw her eyes go to what hehad in his hand, and saw the start she gave before she hurried to takethe paper away. 

"My gracious! My work--" she said agitatedly, when she had the papers inher hand. She went to her desk, looking perturbed, and gave a quick, seeking glance at the scattered papers there; then at Starr. 

"Did any more--?"

"That's all, " Starr said gravely. "It was the wind when I opened thedoor, caught them. "

"My own carelessness. I don't know why I left my desk open, " she said. And while he stood looking at her, she pulled down the roll-top with aslam, still visibly perturbed. 

It was strange, he thought, that she should have a roll-top desk outhere, anyway. He had seen it the other time he was at the house, and ithad struck him then as queer, though he had not given it more than apassing thought. 

As a matter of fact, it was not queer. Johnny Calvert had dilated on thedestructiveness of rats, "pack rats" he called them. They would chewpaper all to bits, he said. So Helen May, being finicky about having herpapers chewed, had brought along this mouse-proof desk with her otherfurniture from Los Angeles. 

Her perturbed manner, too, was the result of a finicky distaste forhaving any disorder in her papers, especially when it was work intrustedto her professionally. She never talked about the work she did forpeople, and she always kept it away from the eyes of those not concernedin it. That, she considered, was professional etiquette. She had straineda point when she had read a little of the manuscript to Vic. Vic was justa kid, and he was her brother, and he wouldn't understand what she readany more than would the horned toad down by the spring. But Starr wasdifferent, and she felt that she had been terribly careless andunprofessional, leaving the manuscript where pages could blow around theroom. What if a page had blown outside and got lost!

Starr had turned his back and was staring out of the window. He mighthave been staring at a blank wall, for all he saw through the glass. Hewas as pale as though he had just received some great physical shock, andhe had his hands doubled up into fists, so that his knuckles were white. His eyes were almost gray instead of hazel, and they were hard andhurt-looking. 

Something in the set of his head and in the way his shoulders hadstiffened told Helen May that things had gone wrong just in the lastfew minutes. She gave him a second questioning glance, felt herheart go heavy while her brain seemed suddenly blank, and retreatedto the kitchen. 

Helen May, influenced it may be by Starr's anxious thoughts of her, haddreamed of him; one of those vivid, intimate dreams that color our moodsand our thoughts long after we awaken. She had dreamed of being with himin the moonlight again; and Starr had sung again the love song of thedesert, and had afterwards taken her in his arms and held her close, andkissed her twice lingeringly, looking deep into her eyes afterwards. 

She had awakened with the thrill of those kisses still tingling her lips, so that she had covered her face with both hands in a sort of shamed joythat dreams could be so terribly real--so terribly sweet, too. And then, not fifteen minutes after she awoke, and while the dream yet clogged herreason, Starr himself had confronted her when she opened the door. Shewould have been a remarkable young woman if she had not been flusteredand nervous and inclined toward incoherent speech. 

And now, it was perfectly idiotic to judge a man's temper by the back ofhis neck, she told herself fiercely in the kitchen; perfectly idiotic, yet she did it. She was impressed with his displeasure, his bitterness, with some change in him which she could not define to herself. She wantedto cry, and she did not in the least know what there could possibly be tocry about. 

Vic appeared, tousled and yawning and stupid as an owl in the sun. Hegrowled because the water bucket was empty and he must go to the spring, and he irritated Helen May to the point of wanting to shake him, when hewent limping down the path. She even called out sharply that he waslimping with the wrong foot, and that he ought to tie a string around hislame ankle so he could remember which one it was. Which made her feelmore disagreeable than ever, because Vic really did have a bad ankle, asthe swelling had proven when he went to bed last night. 

Nothing seemed to go right, after that. She scorched the bacon, and shecaught her sleeve on the handle of the coffee pot and spilled about halfthe coffee, besides burning her wrist to a blister. She broke a cup, butthat had been cracked when she came, and at any other time she would nothave been surprised at all, or jarred out of her calm. She took out themuffins she had hurried to make for Starr, and they stuck to the tins andcame out in ragged pieces, which is enough to drive any woman desperate, I suppose. Vic slopped water on the floor when he came back with thebucket full, and the wind swooped a lot of sand into the kitchen, andshe was certain the bacon would be gritty as well as burned. 

Of Starr she had not heard a sound, and she went to the door nervously tocall him when breakfast was at last on the table. He was standing exactlyas he had stood when she left the room. So far as she could see, he hadnot moved a muscle or turned his head or winked an eyelid. His stoninesschilled her so that it was an effort to form words to tell him thatbreakfast was ready. 

There was an instant's pause before he turned, and Helen May felt that hehad almost decided not to eat. But he followed her to the kitchen andspoke to Vic quite humanly, as he took the chair she offered, andunfolded the napkin that struck an odd note of refinement among itsmakeshift surroundings; for the stove had only two real legs, the othertwo corners being propped up on rocks; the dish cupboard was of boxes, and everything in the way of food supplies stood scantily hidden behindthin curtains of white dotted swiss that Helen May had brought with her. 

An hour ago Starr would have dwelt gloatingly upon these gracefulevidences of Helen May's brave fight against the crudities of hersurroundings. Now they gave him a keener thrust of pain. So did thetremble of her hand when Helen May poured his coffee; it betrayed toStarr her guilty fear that he had seen what was on those two papers. Heglanced up at her face, and caught her own troubled glance just flickingaway from him. She was scared, then! he told himself. She was watching tosee if he had read anything that seemed suspicious. Well, he'd have tocalm her down a little, just as a matter of policy. He couldn't let hertip him off to the bunch, whatever happened. 

Starr smiled. "I sure feel like I'm imposing on good nature, " he said, looking at her again with careful friendliness. "Coming here begging forbreakfast, and now when you've gone to the trouble of cooking it, I'vegot one of my pet headaches that won't let me enjoy anything. Hits methat way sometimes when I've had an extra long ride. But I sure wish ithad waited awhile. "

Helen May gave him a quick, hopeful smile. "I have some awfully goodtablets, " she said. "Wait till I give you one, before you eat. My doctorgave me a supply before I left home, because I have headache so much--ordid have. I'm getting much better, out here! I've hardly felt like thesame person, the last two or three weeks. "

"You have got to show me where you're any better _acting_, " Vic pointedout, with the merciless candor of beauty's young brother. "It sure ain'tyour disposition that's improved, I can tell you those. "

"And with those few remarks you can close, " Helen May retorted gleefully, hurrying off to get the headache tablet. It was just a headache, poorfellow! He wasn't peeved at all, and nothing was wrong!

It was astonishing how her mood had lightened in the past two minutes. She got him a glass of water to help the tablet down his throat, andstood close beside him while he swallowed it and thanked her, and beganto make some show of eating his breakfast. She was, in fact, the samewhimsically charming Helen May he had come to care a great deal for. 

That made things harder than ever for Starr. If the tablet had beenprescribed for heartache rather than headache, Starr would have swallowedthankfully the dose. The murder, over against the other line of hills, had not seemed to him so terrible as those sheets of scribbled paperlocked away inside Helen May's desk. The grief of Estan's mother over herdead son was no more bitter than was Starr's grief at what he believedwas true of Helen May. Indeed, Starr's trouble was greater, because hemust mask it with a smile. 

All through breakfast he talked with her, looked into her eyes, smiled ather across the table. But he was white under his tan. She thought thatwas from his headache, and was kinder than she meant to be because ofit; perhaps because of her dream too, though she was not conscious of anychange in her manner. 

Starr could have cursed her for that change, which he believed was a slyattempt to win him over and make him forget anything he may have read onthose pages. He would not think of it then; time enough when he was awayand need not pretend or set a guard over his features and his tongue. Thehurt was there, the great, incredible, soul-searing hurt; but he wouldnot dwell upon what had caused that hurt. He forced himself to talk andto laugh now and then, but afterwards he could not remember what they hadtalked about. 

As soon as he decently could, he went away again into the howling windthat had done him so ill a turn. He did not know what he should do; thisdiscovery that Helen May was implicated had set him all at sea, but hefelt that he must get away somewhere and think the whole thing out beforehe went crazy. 

He left the Basin, rode around behind it and, leaving Rabbit in thethicket where he had left him the day before, he toiled up the pinnacleand sat down in the shelter of a boulder pile where he would be out ofthe wind as well as out of sight, and where he could still stare somberlydown at the cabin. 

And there he faced his trouble bravely, and at the same time hefulfilled his duty toward his government by keeping a watch over theplace that seemed to him then the most suspicious place in the country. The office of _Las Nuevas_, even, was not more so, as Starr saw thingsthen. For if _Las Nuevas_ were the distributing point for the propagandaliterature, this cabin of Helen May's seemed to be the fountain head. 

First of all, and going back to the beginning, how did he really _know_that her story was true? How, for instance, did he know that her fatherhad not been one of the heads of the conspiracy? How did he know that herfather--it might even be her husband!--was dead? He had simply acceptedher word, as a matter of course, because she was a young woman, and moreattractive than the average young woman. Starr was terribly bitter, atthat point in his reasoning, and even felt certain that he hated allwomen. Well, then, her reason for being in the neighborhood would bear alot of looking into. 

Then there was that automobile that had passed where he had found her andher goats, that evening. Was it plausible, he asked himself, that she hadactually walked over there? The machine had returned along the sametrail, running by moonlight with its lights out. Might it not have beencoming to pick her up? Only he had happened along, and she had let himwalk home with her, probably to keep him where she could watch him!

There was that shot at him from the pinnacle behind her cabin. There washer evident familiarity with firearms, though she professed not to own agun. There was the man who had been down there with her, not more than anhour after he had left her with a bullet burn across his arm. Starr sawnow how that close conversation might easily have been a conferencebetween her and the man who had shot at him. 

There was the light in her window at one o'clock in the morning, and themachine with dimmed headlights making toward her place. There was herevident caution against undesirable callers, her coming to the door witha six-shooter hidden against her skirt. There was that handwriting, towhich Starr would unhesitatingly have sworn as being the same as on thepages he had found in the office of _Las Nuevas_. The writing wasunmistakable: fine, even, symmetrical as print, yet hard to decipher;slanting a little to the left instead of the right. He had studied toooften the pages in his pocket not to recognize it at a glance. 

Most damning evidence of all the evidence against her were two or threewords which his eyes had picked from the context on the page uppermost inhis hand. He had become familiar with those words, written in thatpeculiar chirography. "Justice. .. Submission . .. Ruling . .. " He hadcaught them at a glance, though he did not know how they were connected, or what relation they bore to the general theme. Political bunk, his mindtagged it therefore, and had no doubt whatever that he was right. 

"She's got brown eyes and blond hair, and that looks like mixed blood, "he reminded himself suddenly, after he had sat for a long while staringdown at the house. "How do I know her folks aren't Spanish or something?How do I know anything about her? I just swallowed what she handedout--like a damn' fool!"

Just after noon, when the wind had shown some sign of dying down to amore reasonable blow, Helen May came forth in her riding skirt and aTam o' Shanter cap and a sweater, with a package under her arm--apackage of manuscript which she had worked late to finish and was nowgoing to deliver. 

She got the pinto pony which Vic had just ridden sulkily down to thecorral and left for her, and she rode away down the trail, jolting a gooddeal in the saddle when the pinto trotted a few steps, but apparentlywell pleased with herself. 

Starr watched until she turned into the main trail that led toward SanBonito. Then, when he was reasonably sure of the direction she meant totake, he hurried down to where Rabbit waited, mounted that long-sufferinganimal and followed, using short cuts and deep washes that would hide himfrom sight, but keeping Helen May in view most of the time for all that. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

HOLMAN SOMMERS TURNS PROPHET

Holman Sommers, clad outwardly in old wool trousers of a dingy gray, afaded brown smoking jacket that had shrunk in many washings until it wasthree inches too short in the sleeves, and old brown slippers, sat tiltedback in a kitchen chair against the wall of his house and smoked abeautifully colored meerschaum with solid gold bands and a fine ambermouthpiece, while he conferred comfortably with one Elfigo Apodaca. 

There was no quizzical twinkle in the eyes of Holman Sommers, vividlyalive though they were always. With his low slipper heels hooked overthe rung of his chair and his right hand nursing the bowl of his pipeand his black hair rumpled in the wind, he was staring at the graniteridge somberly. 

"I am indeed sorry to hear that Estan Medina was shot, " he said after apause. "Even in the interests of the Cause it was absolutelyunjustifiable. The man could do no harm; indeed, he served to divertsuspicion from others. Only crass stupidity would resort to bruteviolence in the effort to further propaganda. Laying aside the human--"

"Of course, " Elfigo interrupted sarcastically, "there's nothing violentin a revolution! Where do you get your argument for gentleness, Holly?That's what bothers me. You can stir up a bunch of Mexicans quicker thana barrel of mezcal with your revolution talks. "

"Ah, but you do not take into account the great, fundamental truth thatcooperative effort, on the part of the proletariat, is whollyjustifiable, in that it furthers the good of all humanity. Whereasviolence on the part of the individual merely retards the final resultfor which we are striving. The murder of Estan Medina, for instance, maybe the one display of individual violence which will nullify all ourefforts toward a common good. 

"For myself, I am bending every energy toward the formation of acooperative colony which will demonstrate the feasibility of acooperative form of government for the whole nation--the whole world, infact. Your Junta has pledged itself to the assistance of this colony, theincalculable benefits of which will, I verily believe, be the verysalvation of Mexico as a nation. Mexico, now in the throes of nationalparturition, is logically the pioneer in the true socialistic form ofgovernment. From Mexico the seed will be carried overseas to drop uponsoil made fertile by the bones of those sacrificed to the blood-lust ofthe war mad lords of Europe. 

"Here, in this little corner of the world, is where the first tiny plantmust be grown. Can you not grasp, then, the tremendous significance ofwhat, on the face of it, is the pitifully small attempt of a pitifullyweak people to strike a feeble blow for the freedom of labor? Tofrustrate that feeble blow now, by the irresponsible, lawless murderof a good citizen, merely because he failed at first to grasp the meaningof the lesson placed before him to learn, is, to my way of thinking, notonly unjustifiable but damnably weak and reprehensible. "

Elfigo Apodaca, in another kitchen chair tilted back against an angle ofthe wall so that he half faced Holman Sommers, stretched out his legs andsmiled tolerantly. A big, good-looking, thoroughly Americanized Mexicanwas Elfigo; the type of man who may be found at sunrise whipping the beststream in the State, the first morning of the trout season; the type ofman whose machine noses in the closest to the judge's stand when a bigrace is on; the type of man who dances most, collects the most picturepostals of pretty girls, laughs most at after-dinner speeches; the typeof man who either does not marry at all, or attains much notoriety whenthe question of alimony is being fought out to the last cipher; the lastman you would point out as a possible conspirator against anything savethe peace and dignity of some other man's home. But it takes money to beall of these things, and Elfigo could see a million or two ahead of himalong the revolution trail. That is why he smiled tolerantly upon hiscolleague who talked of humanity instead of dollars. 

Then Elfigo harked back frowningly to what Holman Sommers had said aboutfeebleness. He rolled his cigar from the right corner of his mouth to theleft corner and spoke his thought. 

"Speaking of feeble blow, and all that bunk, " he said irreverently, "howdo we stand, Holly? Just between you and me as men--cut out any interestwe may have in the game--what's your honest opinion? Do we win?"

Holman Sommers raised one hand and hid the amused twitching of his lips. He could have put that question far more clearly, he believed, and hecould have expressed much better the thought that was in Elfigo's mind. He had deliberately baited Elfigo, and it amused him to see how blindlythe bait had been taken. He regarded Elfigo through half closed lids. 

"As a matter of fact, and speaking relatively, every concerted revolt onthe part of the proletariat is a victory. Though every leader in themovement be placed with his back against a stone wall, there to standuntil he falls to the earth riddled with bullets, yet have the peoplewon; a step nearer the goal, one more page writ in the glowing history ofthe advancement of the human race toward a true brotherhood of man. Therecan be no end save ultimate victory. That the victory may not be apparentfor fifty years, or a hundred, cannot in any sense alter the immutablelaw of evolution. Posterity will point back to this present uprising asthe first real blow struck for the freedom of the laboring classes ofMexico, and, indirectly, of the whole world. "

Elfigo, his thumbs hooked in the armholes of his vest, mark of thedominant note in the human male since clothes were invented to furnisharmholes for egotistic thumbs, contemplated his polished tan shoesdissatisfiedly. 

"Oh, to hell with posterity!" he blurted impatiently. "What about us poordevils that's furnishing the time and money and brains to put it over? Dowe get lined up against a wall?"

Holly Sommers chuckled. "Not if your car can put you across the line soonenough. Then, even though Mexico might be called upon to execute oneElfigo Apodaca as an example to the souls in bondage, some otherbullet-riddled cadaver with your name and physical likeness would do aswell as your own carcass. " He chuckled again. 

"Cheerful prospect, " grinned Elfigo ruefully. "But I like a sportingchance, myself. The real point I'm trying to get at is, what chance doyou think the Alliance has got of winning? Come down outa the clouds, Holly, and never mind about humanity for a minute. You've helped organizethe Alliance, you've talked to the hombres, you've been the god in themachine in this part of the country, and all that. Now be a prophet inwords of one syllable and tell me what you think of the outlook. "

With his fingers Holly Sommers packed the tobacco down into the bowl ofhis pipe. His whole expression changed from the philosopher to thecunning leader of what might well be called a forlorn hope. 

"Speaking in words of one syllable, we have a damn better chance than youmay think, " he said, in a tone as changed as his looks. "This countrylies wide open to any attack that is sudden and unexpected. Labor is in astate of ferment. I predict that within a year we shall find ourselvesupon the brink of a civil war, with labor and capital lined up againsteach other. Unless the government takes some definite step towardplacating organized labor, the whole standing army will not besufficient to keep the peace. That is the present internal condition, and that condition will grow worse until we face the real crisis ofa national strike of some sort--I believe of the railroad employees, since that is the most far-reaching and would prove the mostdisastrous--therefore the most terrifying to the ruling class. 

"On the other hand, and turning our faces outward, we are not much betterprepared for an emergency. We are a conceited nation, but insufferablenational conceit never yet won a battle. We are given to shouting ratherthan shooting. Americanism to-day consists chiefly of standing up whilethe Star Spangled Banner is being played by a brass band, and of shootingoff rockets on our national holiday. Were I of the capitalist class, Ishould consider the situation desperate. But being allied with theworkers, I can laugh. 

"Speaking still in words of one syllable, Elfigo, I can safely prophesywhat will happen first when the Alliance begins its active campaign. Scarehead news in extra editions will be printed. The uprising will begreatly exaggerated, I have no doubt. Women and children will be reportedmassacred, whereas the Alliance has no intention of being more barbarousthan any warfare necessitates. Then there will be a buzzing of leaguesand clubs; and the citizens will march up and down the business sectionof every town, bearing banners and shouting for the 'dear old flag. 'Women will rise up and sell sofa pillows and doilies to raise money tobuy chewing gum for our soldier boys. That, Elfigo, will sufficientlyoccupy the masses for a week or two. 

"Going higher, red tape will begin to unroll and entwine the heads ofdepartments, and every man who has any authority whatever will wait fororders from some one higher up. Therefore, while the whole nation cheersthe street parades and the flags and the soldier boys and everything elsein sight, the Alliance will be getting under way--"

"We'll throw her into high and step on her!" Elfigo contributed, being amotor enthusiast. 

"Something like that, yes. When you consider that the transportation oftroops to quell the uprising will require anywhere from three days tothree weeks, I am counting red tape and all, you will readily apprehendhow much may be accomplished before they are in a position to handle thesituation. 

"On the other hand, Mexico is filled with fighters. So much hasoppression done for the peon; it has taught him the business of fighting. Now, I grant you, she is a nation composed of warring factions topped bya lamentably weak provisional government. _But_ with practically everySpanish-American over here actually participating in a movement forMexico, all those various factions will coalesce, as tiny brooklets flowtogether to form the mighty torrent. "

"Still, she's a big country to lick, " Elfigo pointed out, chiefly to seewhat Holly would say. 

"Ah, but Mexico does not comprehend that fact! And, in the samebreath, neither does this country, as a whole, comprehend how big acountry is Mexico to lick! Give a Mexican soldado a handful of beans aday and something to shout _Viva_ for, and he can and will fightindefinitely. If I mistake not, it will shortly behoove this countryto temporize, to make certain concessions. Whether those concessionsextend so far as to cede these three States back to Mexico, I cannothazard a prediction. I can see, however, where it is not at allimprobable that New Mexico and Arizona may be considered too costly tohold. Texas, " he smiled, "Texas remembers too vividly her Alamo. Mexico, if she is wise, does not want Texas. "

"I heard yesterday there's some talk amongst the Americans aboutorganizing home guards. We can't stand another postponement, Holly; itmight give them time to pull off something like that. Little Luis Medinatold me he heard a target marker for the San Bonito rifle club saysomething about it. He heard the members talking. You know they're usinggovernment rifles and ammunition. It would be a hell of a note to putthings off till every town had a home guard organized. "

"I can see no necessity for putting things off, " said Holly calmly. "Sofar as I can learn, we are practically ready, over here. Ah! Here comesour charming neighbor from Sunlight Basin. Perhaps, Elfigo, it would beas well for you to disappear from the premises. "

"Oh, I want to meet her, " Elfigo smiled easily. "It'll be all right;I just came after water for my radiator, anyway. She's dry as a bone. I opened the drain cock and let her drain off and stood a fine chanceof freezing my engine too, before I got on past the puddle far enoughto be safe!"

"It was, as a matter of fact, a very grave mistake to come here at all, "Holly told him with a courteous kind of severity. "I fear you greatlyunderestimate the absolute necessity for extreme caution. The mere factthat we have thus far elicited nothing more than a vague curiosity on thepart of the government, does not excuse any imprudence now. Rather, itintensifies the need for caution. For myself--"

"Oh, anybody is liable to run dry, out here on the desert, Holly. If allthe Secret Service men in the country, and I know of one or two that'sbeen nosing around, were to come and find me here, they couldn't say Ihadn't a good, legitimate reason for coming. I had to come. I didn't wantto run on to any one from that inquest, and I had to see you. I wanted toput you wise to the stand we're taking on the Estan Medina affair. Wecan't help if that somebody bumped him off, but--"

"You can fill your water bag at the well, since that is what you camefor; and I should strongly advise you to terminate your visit as soon asit is consistent with your errand to do so. "

"Oh, don't crab my meeting a pretty girl, Holly! Introduce me, and I'lltake the water and go. Be a sport!" Elfigo had picked up hisfive-gallon desert bag, but he was obviously waiting for Helen May toride up to the house. 

To Starr, crouched behind on a rock on the ridge that divided theSommers place from the hidden arroyo where he had first seen trace ofthe automobile, Elfigo's attitude of waiting for Helen May was tooobvious to question. A little, weakling offspring of Hope died then inhis heart. He had tried so hard to find some excuse for Helen May, andhe had almost succeeded. But his glasses were too strong; theyidentified Elfigo Apodaca too clearly for any doubt. They were toomerciless in showing Starr that beside Elfigo stood the man who hadvisited Helen May the day before. 

Recognition of the man came with something of a shock to Starr. He hadheard of Holman Sommers often enough, though he had never seen him. Hehad heard him described as a "highbrow" who wrote scientific articles, sometimes published in obscure magazines, read by few and understood bynone. A recluse student, he had been described to Starr, who knew ToddSommers by sight, and who had tagged the family as being too American forany suspicion to point their way. 

As often happens, Starr had formed a mental picture of Holman Sommerswhich was really the picture of a type made familiar to us mostly by ourhumorists. He had imagined that Holman Sommers, being a "highbrow, " was alittle, dried-up man with a bald head and weak eyes that made spectaclesa part of his face; an insignificant little man well past middle life, with a gray beard, Starr saw him mentally. He should have known betterthan to let his imagination paint him a portrait of any man, in thoseticklish times. But they were Americans, which was disarming in itself. And the plump sister, who had talked for ten minutes with Starr when hecalled at the ranch one day to see if they had any stock they wanted tosell, had further helped to ward off any suspicion. 

Now that he knew, by the smoking jacket and the slippers and theuncovered thatch of jet-black hair, that this man must be Holman Sommers;when he saw Elfigo Apodaca there, seated and talking earnestly with him, as he could tell by the gestures with which they elaborated their speech;when he saw Helen May riding in to the ranch, he had before him all theoutward, visible evidence of a conference. The only false note, toStarr's way of thinking, was the brazenness of it. They must, he toldhimself, be so sure of themselves that they could snap their fingers atrisk, or else they were so desperately in need of conferring togetherthat they overlooked the risk. And that second explanation might easilybe the true one, in view of Estan Medina's death and the possibleconsequence to the Alliance. 

Starr was hampered by not hearing anything that was being said down thereat that homey-looking ranch house, where everything was clearly visibleto him through his field glasses. But even so it did not require speechto tell him that Elfigo Apodaca had never before met Helen May Stevenson, and that Holman Sommers was not overeager to introduce him to her. Starr, watching every movement of the three when they came together, frownedwith puzzlement. Why had they been strangers until just now?

He saw the three stand and talk for perhaps two minutes; commonplace, early-acquaintance nothings, he judged from their faces and actions. Hesaw Helen May offer Holman Sommers the package she carried; saw Holmantake it negligently and tuck it under his arm while he went on talking. He saw Helen May turn then and go around to the door, which was openedeffusively by the plump sister whom he knew. He saw the two men go to thewell, and watched Elfigo fill the water bag and go away down the uneventrail to where his automobile stood, perhaps a quarter of a mile nearerthe main road. When he turned his glasses from Elfigo to the house, Holman had gone inside, and the two women were out beyond the houseadmiring a flock of chickens which Maggie called to her with a fewhandfuls of grain. 

There seemed no further profit in watching the Sommers house, and Starrwas about to leave his post when he saw the dingy, high-powered roadsterof the sheriff come careening up the trail. He came near upsetting hismachine in getting around Apodaca's big car, but he negotiated thepassing with some skill and came on to where he met Elfigo himselfsweating down the trail with his full five-gallon water bag. 

Here again Starr wished that he could hear as well as he could see. Thatthe sheriff had seized the opportunity to place Elfigo under arrest, heknew well enough, by faces and gestures, just as he had known of Elfigo'sintroduction to Helen May. But here were no polite nothings beingmouthed. Elfigo was talking angrily, and Starr would have given a greatdeal to hear what he was saying; calling it an outrage, he supposed, andheaping maledictions on the stupidity of the law. 

The sheriff did not seem to pay much attention to what Elfigo was sayingbeyond pulling a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket, and tossingthem to his prisoner--with the invitation to put them on, Starr knewvery well, having himself done the same thing more than once. Stilltalking furiously, Elfigo obeyed, and then was invited to climb inbeside the sheriff, who stooped and did something with one of Elfigo'sstylishly trousered legs; manacled him to something in the machine, Starr guessed. From which he also gathered that Elfigo's remarks musthave been pretty strong. 

The sheriff started on, ran to where he could turn without upsetting, andbacked the car around as though his errand were done. Quick work it hadbeen. Evidently Sheriff O'Malley had attended the inquest with a blankwarrant in his pocket, for fear Elfigo might take alarm and give themthe slip. He must have been on the way back when he had either seenElfigo's car on the Sommers trail, or else had noted where it had turnedoff and had come up the trail in a purely investigative spirit. Howeverthat might be, he had not let the chance slip. Which was characteristicof Sheriff O'Malley, essentially a man of action. 

Starr should have been glad. Perhaps he was, though he did not look it ashe went back to where Rabbit was browsing on whatever he could get whilehe waited for his master. Elfigo in jail even for a few days would be anadvantage, Starr believed. It would set the rest to buzzing, so that hecould locate them with less delay. But at the same time--

"If it came to a showdown right now, I'd have to take her along with therest, " he came up squarely against his real problem. "She's got itcoming; but it's hell, all the same!"

CHAPTER TWENTY

STARR DISCOVERS THINGS

Starr was sitting on the side of his bed with one boot off and danglingin his hand, and with his thoughts gone journeying out over the mesa andthe desert and the granite ridge beyond, to a squatty, two-room adobeshack at the head of Sunlight Basin. During the days he had been toofully occupied with the work he had to do to dwell much on the miserablefact of Helen May's duplicity, her guilt of the crime of treason againsther native country. But at night the thought of her haunted him like thefevered ache of a wound too deep to heal quickly. 

He swore an abrupt oath as a concrete expression of his mood, and droppedthe boot with a thump to the floor. The word and the action served toswing his thoughts into another channel not much more pleasant, but agreat deal more impersonal. 

"He's shore foxy--that hombre!" he said, thinking of Elfigo Apodaca. 

As matters stood that evening, Starr felt that Elfigo had the right tolaugh at him and the whole Secret Service. Elfigo was in jail, yes. Only that day he had been given his preliminary hearing on the chargeof murdering Estan Medina, and he had been remanded without bail toawait trial. 

On the face of it, that looked as though Starr had gained a point. Inreality he felt that he had in some manner played into Elfigo's hands. Certainly he had not gained anything in the way of producing any buzzingof the Alliance leaders. Not a Mexican had shown his face at the hearing, save Luis Medina and his mother, who had been called as witnesses. 

Luis had been badly scared but stubborn, insisting that he had heardElfigo call Estan from the house just before the shot was fired. Themother also had been badly frightened, but not at all stubborn. Indeed, she was not even certain of anything beyond the drear fact that her sonwas dead, and that he had fallen with the lamp in his hand, unarmed andunsuspecting. She was frightened at the unknown, terrible Law that hadbrought her there before the judge, and not at anything tangible. 

But Luis knew exactly what it was he feared. Starr read that in his eyeswhenever they turned toward the calm, inscrutably smiling Elfigo. Hatewas in the eyes of Luis, but the hate was almost submerged by the terrorthat filled him. He shook when he stood up to take the oath. His voicetrembled in spite of him when he spoke; but he spoke boldly for allthat--falsely, too. He had lied when he told of the quarrel over the oldwater right. It was not a water right which the two had discussed, andStarr knew it. 

But it was Elfigo that puzzled Starr most. Elfigo had smiled, as thoughthe whole thing amused him even though it annoyed him to be under arrest. He denied, of course, that he had known anything at all about the murderuntil it was common news about town. He had been somewhere else at thetime Estan was shot, and he could and would prove, when the time came, that it would have been physically impossible for him to have shot EstanMedina. He preferred not to produce any witnesses now, however. Let it goto a jury trial, and then he would clear himself of the charge. Allthrough his lawyer, of course, while Elfigo sat back with his hands inhis pockets and his feet thrust out before him, whimsically contemplatinghis tan shoes. 

He had seemed confident that bail would be accepted, and he wasunmistakably crestfallen when the judge, who acted under certaininstructions from those above him, refused to accept bail. But Elfigo hadscored, nevertheless; he had not permitted any of his friends to becomeidentified in any manner whatsoever with his movements, and he hadwithheld his side of the case altogether. 

So Starr was left in the dark where he had expected to find the light heneeded to direct him. He had also permitted Luis to mark himself foranother murder in the Medina family. Well, Luis was a conspirator, forthat matter; but he was a boy, and his judgment had not ripened. Itseemed a shame that a youngster like that should be drawn into such amess. Starr, determined to do what he could to protect Luis, had seen toit that Luis was locked up, for the purely technical reason that he wasan important witness and they wanted to be sure of him; but really toprotect him from the wrath of Elfigo. 

"And now, " Starr's thoughts ran on, "I stand just where I stood before, except that I know a whole heap more than I wish I knew. And if the thingbreaks loose before the trial, Elfigo will be in jail where he's got acast-iron alibi. The rest of the bunch must be strong enough to go onwithout him, but I shore did hope they'd be stirred up some over thisshooting. They'll likely get together right away, hold a meeting and makearrangements to do without Elfigo. If I knew where. .. "

He lifted the other foot to remove its boot, hesitated, and set it downagain. Surely the Alliance would have to adjust itself to the loss ofElfigo. They would get together, and what buzzing they did would bebehind barred doors, since they had been too cunning to show themselvesat the hearing; that night, probably, since they knew now that Elfigo hadbeen bound over to the grand jury, and that he was held without bail. Where would they meet? That was what Starr wished he knew. 

He sat there rumpling his hair and studying the question. He could notfix upon any particular place, unless it was the Sommers ranch; and thatwas too far from town for any urgent business, and travelers to and fromthe place would be taking too great a risk. For he was sure there wouldbe a dozen or more who would make up the Junta, and for so many men to betraveling in one direction would excite curiosity from any one who sawthem leave town or return. 

There was another possible meeting place--the office of _Las Nuevas_. Starr thought of that rather hopelessly. Just as a common precaution, they would guard the doors if the Junta met there, or they would have menstationed on the stairs; that he would not be able to get up withoutgiving the alarm he knew as well as though he had tried and failed. 

His thoughts went to that hidden, inner office where he had found thepamphlets and the writing that pointed to Helen May as one of the band. There, where there were no outside windows to betray a midnightconference by any showing of light within; where eavesdropping wasabsolutely impossible; where the men who met there might gain the yard byvarious means, since it faced on three streets, and be practically safefrom observation, he became convinced would be the logical meeting place. 

To be sure, he was only guessing. He had no evidence whatever save hisown reason that there would be a meeting, much less that it would be heldin the secret office room of _Las Nuevas_. But he put on the boot he hadtaken off and reached for his coat. A half hour or so ought to prove himright or wrong in his deductions, and Starr would not have grudged a fullnight to satisfy himself on that point. 

It was late, nearly midnight, to be exact, when he slipped out to theshed, and watched from its shadow until he was sure that no one had seenhim, before he let himself down through the hole in the manger to thearroyo bottom. He went hurriedly, but he was very careful not to showhimself without first making sure that the way was clear. 

For that reason he escaped being seen by a tall young Mexican whom hecaught sight of lounging at the corner opposite the building that held_Las Nuevas_. Ostensibly the fellow had merely stopped to light acigarette, but while Starr watched him he struck three matches insuccession, and immediately afterwards a shadow glided from the shelterof a plumber's shop opposite, slipped down to the gate that was alwaysbarred, and disappeared. 

Starr circled warily to the rear of the yard to see what chance theremight be of getting over the wall unseen. He did not know what good itwould do him to get into the yard, but he hoped that he might be luckyenough to see any one who entered the back door, which would be thelogical means of ingress. 

He was standing back of the garage where he had found the cord tires, when the quiet of the night was split with the shrill, nerve-rackingshriek of the fire whistle, four or five blocks away. In spite ofhimself, he was startled with its suddenness, and he stood tensed andwaiting for the dismal hoots that would tell what ward the fire wasin. One--two--three, croaked the siren like a giant hoot-owl callingin the night. 

"Third ward--down around the depot, probably, " he heard a voice sayguardedly on the other side of the fence. Another voice, more guardedeven than the first, muttered a reply which Starr could not catch. Neither voice was recognizable, and the sentence he heard was so obviousa remark as to be practically meaningless; probably a hundred persons intown had said "Third ward, " when the siren had tooted the number. 

At any rate some one was there in the yard of _Las Nuevas_, and it wouldnot be wise for Starr to attempt getting over the wall. He waitedtherefore until he heard careful footsteps moving away; whereupon hehimself stole quietly to the corner, thence down the side wall to thefront of the building, so that he could look across the street to wherethe Mexican had revealed himself for a moment in the light of a distantstreet lamp. 

If the Mexican had been on watch there, he had left his post. In a minuteStarr saw him hurrying down the unused side street, toward the angry glowthat told where the fire had started. Too much temptation, Starrinterpreted the fellow's desertion of his post; or else no more men wereexpected at _Las Nuevas_, and the outpost was no longer needed. Taking itfor granted that a meeting had been called here, Starr reasoned from thatassumption. 

He waited another minute or two, watching and listening. There wasnothing at the front to break the quiet or spoil the air of desertionthat surrounds an empty office building at midnight. He went cautiouslyto the rear corner and turned there to look back at the building, watchful for any stray beam of light or any movement. 

The upper story was dark as the rest of the yard and building, and Starrcould almost believe that he was on the wrong track entirely, and thatnothing was going on here. But he continued to stand there, loath to giveup and go home with nothing accomplished. 

Close beside the building and back perhaps twenty feet from the frontcorner, a telephone and electric light pole stood with outstretched arms, holding aloft its faintly humming wires. Starr stood looking that way forsome time before it occurred to him that there was no street light nearenough to send that warm, yellow glow across the second bar from thebottom. The rest of the pole was vague and shadowy, like everything elsein the immediate neighborhood. The bottom of the pole he could not see atall from where he stood, it was so dark alongside the building. But thatsecond cross-arm was lighted as from a near-by window. Yet there was nolighted window anywhere in the place. 

Starr was puzzled. Being puzzled, he went slowly toward the pole, hisface turned upward. The nearest street lamp was a full block away, and itwould have lighted up the whole top of the pole evenly, if at all. At thefoot of the pole Starr stood for a minute, still staring upward. Then hereached up, gripped the metal steps and began carefully to climb. 

Before he had reached the lighted cross-arm he knew that the glow mustcome from a skylight; and that the skylight must be the one that hadsaved that hidden little office room from being dark. He was no lineman, but he knew enough to be careful about the wires, so it took him severalminutes to work his way to where he could straddle a crosstree that hadfew wires. 

Just below him and no more than twelve or fifteen feet distant was theskylight he had suspected, but before he gave that much attention, helooked across to where the fire was sending up a column of crimson smokeand bright, eddying sparks, four blocks or so away. The man left on guardwould find it difficult to tear himself away from all that excitement, Starr thought satisfiedly; though if he came back he could scarcely helpseeing Starr on that lighted perch, and he would undoubtedly take a shotat him if he were any man at all and had a spark of loyalty to hisfellows. For Starr's business up there could not be mistaken by thestupidest greaser in the town. 

With the fire to help his cause, Starr craned toward the building andlooked down through the skylight. It had been partly raised forventilation, which was needed in that little, inside room, especiallysince twelve men were foregathered there, and since every man in the lotwas burning tobacco in some form. 

Sommers was there, seated at the end of a table that had been movedinto the center of the room, which brought it directly under theskylight. He sat facing Starr, and he was reading something to himselfwhile the others waited in silence until he had finished. His strong, dark face was grave, his high forehead creased with the wrinkles ofdeep thinking. He had a cigar in one corner of his mouth, and he wasabsentmindedly chewing it rather than smoking. He looked the leader, though his clothes were inclined to shabbiness and he sat slouchedforward in his chair. He looked the leader, and their leader thoseothers proclaimed him by their very silence, and by the way their facesturned toward him while they waited. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THROUGH THE OPEN SKYLIGHT

Sommers took his cigar from his mouth and laid it carefully down upon theedge of the table, although he was plainly unconscious of the movement. He lifted his head with a little toss that threw back a heavy lock of hisjet-black hair. He glanced around the table, and his eyes dominated thoseothers hypnotically. 

"I have here, " he began in the sonorous voice and the measuredenunciation of the trained orator, "a letter from our esteemed--andunfortunate--comrade and fellow worker, Elfigo Apodaca. Without takingyour valuable time by reading the letter through from salutation tosignature, I may say briefly that its context is devoted to our cause andto the inconvenience which may be entailed because of our comrade'spresent incarceration, the duration of which is as yet undetermined. 

"Comrade Apodaca expresses great confidence in his ultimate release. Hemaintains that young Medina is essentially a traitor, and that hisevidence at the preliminary hearing was given purely in the spirit ofrevenge. That Comrade Apodaca will be exonerated fully of the charge ofmurder, I myself can entertain no scintilla of doubt. We may thereforedismiss from our minds any uneasiness we may, some of us, haveentertained on that score. 

"The question we are foregathered here to decide to-night is whether thedate set for our public demonstration shall remain as it stands; whetherwe shall seek permission to postpone that date, or whether it shall bedeemed expedient to set it forward to the earliest possible moment. Asyou all are doubtless aware, our esteemed compatriots in Mexico are readyand waiting our pleasure, like hounds straining at the leash. The work oforganization on this side of the line has of necessity been slow, becauseof various adverse influences and a slothful desire for present ease andsafety, which we have been constrained to combat. Also the accumulationof arms and ammunition in a sufficient quantity for our purpose withoutexciting suspicion has required much tactful manipulation. 

"But we have here assembled the trusted representatives from our twelvedistricts in the State, and I trust that each one of you has comeprepared to furnish this Junta with the data necessary for anintelligent action upon the question we have to decide to-night. Am Iright, gentlemen, in that assumption?"

Eleven men nodded assent and looked down at the slips of paper they hadproduced from inner pockets and held ready in their hands. 

"Then I shall ask you, compadres, to listen carefully to the report fromeach district, so that you may judge the wisdom of foreshortening theinterval between to-night and the date set for the uprising. 

"Each representative will give the number, in his district, of armedmembers of the Alliance; the amount of ammunition at hand; the number ofagents secretly occupying positions of trust where they can give the mostaid to the movement; the number of Spanish-Americans who, like ourunfortunate neighbor, Estancio Medina, have refused thus far to come intothe Alliance; the number, in his district, who may be counted upon tocome in, once they see that the cause is not hopeless; who may beexpected to take the purely American side, and who may be safely dependedupon to remain neutral. I shall ask each of you to tell us also theextent and nature of such opposition as your district must be prepared tomeet. There has been a rumor of some preparation for resistance to ourmovement, and we shall want to know all that you can tell us of thatphase of the situation as observed in your district. 

"These seemingly unimportant details are absolutely essential, gentlemenof the Junta. For in this revolutionary movement you must bear in mindthat brother will rise up against brother, as it were. You will be calledupon, perchance, to slay the dearest friend of your school days; yourneighbor, if so be he is allied against you when the great day comes. Wemust not weaken; we must keep our eyes fixed upon the ultimate good thatwill come out of the turmoil. But we must know! We must not make theirretrievable error of taking anything for granted. Keeping that in mind, gentlemen, we will hear first the report from Bernalillo district. "

A man at the right of Sommers unfolded his little slip of paper, clearedhis throat and began, in strongly accented English, to read. The elevenwho listened leaned forward, elbows on the table, and drank in theterrible figures avidly. Sommers set down the figures in columns and madenotes on the pad before him, his lips pressed together in a straight linethat twisted now and then with a sinister kind of satisfaction. 

"That, gentlemen, is how the Cause stands in the county that has thelargest population and approximately the smallest area of any county inthe State. While this report is not altogether new to me, yet I amstruck anew with the great showing that has been made in that county. With the extensive yards and shops of the Santa Fe at Albuquerque seizedand held by our forces, together with the junction points and--"

Starr did not wait to hear any more, but edged hastily back to the poleand began to climb down as though a disturbed hornets' nest hung abovehim. The report that had so elated Sommers sent a chill down Starr'sback. If one county could show so appalling an insurrectory force, whatof the whole State? Yes, and the other States involved! And the thingmight be turned loose at any time!

He dropped to the ground, sending a scared glance for the watchman whohad gone to the fire. He was nowhere to be seen, and Starr, running tothe rear of the lot, skirted the high wall at a trot; crossed a narrow, black alley, hurried down behind the next lots to the cross street, walked as fast as he dared to the next corner, turned into the mainstreet, and made for the nearest public telephone booth. 

He sweated there in the glass cage for a long ten minutes before he hadmanaged to get in touch with Sheriff O'Malley and the chief of police, and to tell each in turn what he wanted and where they must meet him, andhow many minutes they might have to do it in. He came out feeling asthough he had been in there an hour, and went straight to the rendezvoushe had named, which was a shed near the building of _Las Nuevas_, only onanother street. 

They came, puffing a little and a good deal mystified. Starr, notdaring to state his real business with them, had asked for men tosurround and take a holdup gang. All told, there were six of them whenall had arrived, and they must have been astounded at what Starr toldthem in a prudent undertone and speaking swiftly. They did not sayanything much, but slipped away after him and came to the high wallthat hid so much menace. 

"There was a hombre on guard across the street, " Starr told the sheriff. "He went off to the fire, but he's liable to come back. Put a man overthere in the shade of that junk shop to watch out for him and nab himbefore he can give the alarm. This is ticklish work, remember. AnyMexican in town would knife you if he knew what you're up to. 

"Johnson, you can climb the pole and pull down on 'em through theskylight, but wait till you see by their actions that they've got the tipsomething's wrong, and don't shoot if you can help it. Remember this isSecret Service work, and the quieter it's done, the better pleasedthey'll be in Washington. There can't be any hullabaloo at all. You twofellows watch the front and back gates, and the no-shooting rule goeswith you, too. If there's anything else you can do, don't shoot. But it'sbetter to fire a cannon than let a man get away. Sabe? Now, Chief, youand the sheriff can come with me, and we'll bust up the meetin' for 'em. "

He went up on the shoulder of the man who was to watch outside the rearwall, and straddled the wall for a brief reconnoiter. Evidently the Juntafelt safe in their hidden little room, for no guard had been left in theyard. The back door was locked, and Starr opened it as silently as hecould with his pass key. Close behind him came Sheriff O'Malley and thechief of police, whose name was Whittier. They had left their shoesbeside the doorstep and walked in their socks, making no noise at all. 

Starr did not dare use his searchlight, but felt his way down past thepress and the forms, to where the stairs went up to the second floor. Onthe third step from the bottom, Starr, feeling his way with his hands, touched a dozing watchman and choked him into submission before thefellow had emitted more than a sleepy grunt of surprise. They left himgagged and tied to the iron leg of some heavy piece of machinery, andwent on up the stairs, treading as stealthily as a prowling cat. 

Starr turned to the right, found the door locked, and patiently turnedhis key a hair's breadth at a time in the lock, until he slid the boltback. Behind him the repressed breathing of O'Malley fanned warmly theback of his neck. He pushed the door open a half inch at a time, foundthe outer office dark and silent, and crossed it stealthily to the closetbehind the stove. O'Malley and Whittier were so close behind that hecould feel them as they entered the closet and crept along its length. 

Starr was reaching out before him with his hands, feeling for the doorinto the secret office, when Sheriff O'Malley struck his foot against theold tin spittoon, tried to cover the sound, and ran afoul of the brooms, which tripped him and sent him lurching against Starr. There in thatsmall space where everything had been so deathly still the racket wasappalling. O'Malley was not much given to secret work; he forgot himselfnow and swore just as full-toned and just as fluently as though be hadtripped in the dark over his own wheelbarrow in his own back yard. 

Starr threw himself against the end of the closet where he knew the doorwas hidden in the wall, felt the yielding of a board, and heaved againstit with his shoulder. He landed almost on top of a fat-jowledrepresentative from Santa Fé, but he landed muzzle foremost, as it were, and he was telling the twelve to put up their hands even before he hadhis feet solidly planted on the floor. 

Holman Sommers sat facing him. He had been writing, and he still held hispencil in his hand. He slowly crumpled the sheet of paper, his vivid eyeslifted to Starr's face. Tragic eyes they were then, for beyond Starr theylooked into the stern face of the government he would have defied. Theylooked upon the wreck of his dearest dream; upon the tightening chains ofthe wage slaves he would have freed--or so he dreamed. 

Starr stared back, his own mind visioning swiftly the havoc he hadwrought in the dream of this leader of men. He saw, not a politicaloutlaw caught before he could do harm to his country, but a man fated tobear in his great brain an idea born generations too soon into a brawlingworld of ideas that warred always with sordid circumstance. A hundredyears hence this man might be called great. Now he was nothing more thana political outlaw chief, trapped with his band of lesser outlaws. 

Sommers' eyes lightened impishly. His thin lips twisted in a smile at thedamnable joke which Life was playing there in that room. 

"Gentlemen of the Junta, " he said in his sonorous, public-platformvoice, "I find it expedient, because of untoward circumstances, toadvise that you make no resistance. From the unceremonious andunheralded entry of our esteemed opponents, these political prostituteswho have had the effrontery to come here in the employ of a damnablesystem of political tyranny and frustrate our plans for the liberationof our comrades in slavery, I apprehend the fact that we have beenbasely betrayed by some foul Judas among us. I am left with noalternative but to advise that you surrender your bodies to theseminions of what they please to call the law. 

"Whether we part now, to spend the remaining years of our life in somefoul dungeon; whether to die a martyr's death on the scaffold, or whetherthe workers of the land awake to their power and, under some wiser, stronger leadership, liberate us to enjoy the fruits of the harvest wehave but sown, I cannot attempt to prophesy. We have done what we couldfor our fellowmen. We have not failed, for though we perish, yet ourblood shall fructify what we have sown, that our sons and our sons' sonsmay reap the garnered grain. Gentlemen, of the Junta, I declare ourmeeting adjourned!"

Starr's eyes were troubled, but his gun did not waver. It pointedstraight at the breast of Holman Sommers, who looked at him measuringlywhen he had finished speaking. 

"I can't argue about the idea back of this business, " Starr said gravely. "All I can do is my duty. Put on these handcuffs, Mr. Sommers. They standfor something you ain't big enough to lick--yet. "

"Certainly, " said Holman Sommers composedly. "You put the case like aphilosopher. Like a philosopher I yield to the power which, I grant you, we are not big enough to lick--yet. In behalf of our Cause, however, permit me to call your attention to the fact that we might have comenearer to victory, had you not discovered and interrupted this meetingto-night. " Though his face was paler than was natural, he slipped on themanacles as matter-of-factly as he would have put on clean cuffs, androse from his chair prepared to go where Starr directed. 

"No, sit down again, " said Starr brusquely. "Sheriff, gather up all thosepieces of paper for evidence against these men, and give them to me. Giveme a receipt for the men--I'll wait for it. I want you and Chief Whittierto hold them here in this room till I come back. I won't be long--half anhour, maybe. " He took the slips of paper which the sheriff folded andhanded to him, and slipped them into his pocket. 

He was gone a little longer than he said, for he had some trouble inlocating the railroad official he wanted, and in convincing that sleepyofficial that he was speaking for the government when he demanded anengine and day coach to be placed on a certain dark siding he mentioned, ready for a swift night run to El Paso and a little beyond--to FortBliss, in fact. 

He got it, trust Starr for that! And he was only twenty minutes behindthe time he had named, though the sheriff and the chief of policebetrayed a nervous relief when he walked in upon them and announced thathe was ready now to move the prisoners. 

They untied the terrified watchman and added him to the group. In thedark, and by way of vacant lots and unlighted streets, he took them to acertain point where an engine had just backed a single, unlighted daycoach on to a siding and stood there with air-pump wheezing and theengineer crawling around beneath with his oil can. By the rear steps ofthe coach a mystified conductor stood waiting with his lantern hiddenunder his coat. A big man was the conductor; once a policeman andtherefore with a keen nose--don't laugh!--for mysteries. 

He wore a satisfied look when he saw the men that were being hustled intothe car. His uniform tightened as he swelled with the importance of hismission. He nodded to Sheriff O'Malley and the chief of police, cast anobliquely curious glance at Starr, who stayed on the ground, and whenStarr gave the word he swung his lantern to the watching fireman, andcaught the handrail beside the steps. 

"Fort Bliss it is; and there won't nothing stop us, buh-lieve me!" hemuttered confidentially to Starr, whom he recognized only as the man whostood behind the mystery. The engine began to creep forward, and he swungup to the lower step. "We may go in the ditch or something; but we'll getthere, you listen to me!"

"Go to it, and good luck, " said Starr, but there was no heartiness in hisvoice. He stood with his thumbs hooked inside his gun-belt and watchedthe coach that held the peace of the country within its varnished wallsgo sliding out of the yard, its green tail lights the only illuminationanywhere behind the engine. When it had clicked over the switch and waspicking up speed for its careening flight south through the cool hours ofearly morning, he gave a sigh that had no triumph in it, and turned awaytoward his cabin. 

"Well, there goes the revolution, " he said somberly to himself. "And hereI go to do the rest of the job; and alongside what I've got to do, hellwould be a picnic!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

STARR TAKES ANOTHER PRISONER

With a slip of paper in his pocket that would have gone a long way towardclearing Helen May, had he only taken the trouble to look at it, Starrrode out in the cool early morning to Sunlight Basin. He looked white andworn, and his eyes were sunken and circled with the purple of too littlesleep and too much worry, for in the three days since he had seen her, Starr had not been able to forget his misery once in merciful sleep. Onlywhen he was busy with capturing the Junta had he lost for a time the keenpain of his hurt. 

Now it was back like an aching tooth set going again with cold water orsweets. He tried to make himself think that he hated Helen May, and thata girl of that type--a girl who could lend herself to suchtreachery--could not possibly win from him anything but a pityingcontempt. He told himself over and over again that he was merely sorebecause a girl had "put something over on him"; that a man hated to havea woman make a fool of him. 

He tried to gloat over the fact that he had found her out before she hadany inkling of how he felt toward her; he actually believed that! Hetried not to wince at the thought of her at Fort Bliss, a Federalprisoner, charged with conspiring against the government. She must haveknown the risk she took, he kept telling himself. The girl was no fool, was way above the average in intelligence. That was why she had appealedto him; he had felt the force of her personality, the underlying strengthof her character that had not harshened her outward charm, as strength sooften does for a woman. 

That was the worst of it. Had she been weak she would never have mixedwith any political conspiracy; they would not have wanted her, forintrigue has no place for weaklings. But had she been weak she wouldnever have attracted Starr so deeply, however innocent she might havebeen. So his reasoning went round and round in a circle, until he wasutterly heartsick with no hope of finding peace. 

There was one thing he could do: it would be tightening the screws of historture, but he meant to do it for her sake. He would take her to FortBliss himself, shielding her from publicity and humiliation; and he wouldtake charge of Vic, and see that the kid did not suffer too much onaccount of his sister. 

He would make a man of Vic; he never guessed that he was taking upmentally the burden which Peter had laid upon Helen May. He believedthere was good stuff in that kid, and with the right handling he wouldcome out all right. He would put in a plea to his chief for leniencytoward the girl too. He would say that she was young and inexperiencedand that Holman Sommers had probably drawn her into his scheme--Starrcould see how that might easily be--and that her health was absolutelydependent upon open air. They couldn't keep her shut up long; a girlcould not do much harm, if the rest of the bunch was convicted. Maybethe lesson and the scare would be all she needed to pull her back intolawful living. She was not a hardened adventuress; why, she couldn't bemuch over twenty-one or two! After a while, when she had straightenedup, maybe . .. 

So Starr thought and thought, fighting to keep a little hope alive, tosee a little gleam of light in the blackness of his soul. His head bent, his eyes staring unseeingly at the yellow-brown dust of the trail, herode along unconscious of everything save the battle raging fiercelywithin. He did not know what pace Rabbit was taking; he even forgot thathe was on Rabbit's back. He did not know that his duty as a man and hisman's love were fighting the fiercest battle of his life, or if he did, he never thought to call it a battle. 

There had been one black night in the cabin--the night before this lastone, it was--when he had considered for a while how he might smuggleHelen May out of the country, suppressing the fact of her complicity. Heplanned just how he could put her on a train and "shoot her to LosAngeles, " as he worded it to himself. How she could take a boat there forVancouver, and how he could hold back developments here until he knew shewas safe. He figured the approximate cost and the hole it would make inhis little savings account. He thought of everything, even to marryingher before she left, so that he could not be compelled to testify againsther, in case she was caught. 

He had dozed afterwards, and had dreamed that he put his plan to the testof reality. He had married Helen May and taken her himself to LosAngeles. But there had not been money enough for him to go any farther, and his chief had wired him peremptorily to return and arrest the leadersof the Alliance and all connected with it. So he had bought a steerageticket for Helen May and put her aboard the boat, where she must herdwith a lot of leering Chinamen. He had stood on the pier and watched theboat swing out and nose its way to the open sea, and a submarine hadtorpedoed it when it had sailed beyond the three-mile limit off thecoast, so he could not go after her. He was just taking off his coat totry it, anyway, when he awoke. 

That was all the good his sleep had done him: set him upright in bed witha cold sweat on his face and his hands shaking. But the reaction fromthat nightmare had been complete, and Starr had not again planned how hemight dodge his plain duty. But he kept thinking around and around thesubject for all that, as though he could not give up entirely the hope ofbeing able to save her somehow. 

He did not know, until he passed the corral, that he was already inSunlight Basin, and that the house stood just up the slope before him. Rabbit must have taken it for granted that Starr was bound for this placeand so had kept the trail of his own accord, for Starr could not rememberturning from the main road. He did not even know that he had passed notmore than a hundred yards from Vic and the goats, and that Vic hadshouted "hello" to him. 

He took a long breath when he glanced up and saw the house so close, buthe did not attempt to dodge or even delay the final tragedy of hismission. He let Rabbit keep straight on. And when the horse stoppedbefore the closed front door, Starr slid off and walked, like a tired oldman, to the door and knocked. 

Helen May had been washing the breakfast dishes, and Starr heard themuffled sound of her high-heeled slippers clicking over the bare floorfor a minute before she came into the front room and opened the door. Shehad a dish towel over her right arm, opening the door with her left. Starr knew that the dish towel was merely a covering for her six-shooter, and his heart hardened a little at that fresh reminder of herpreparedness and her guile. 

"Why, good morning, desert man, " she said brightly, after the firstlittle start of surprise. "Come on in. The coffee's fine this morning;and I just had a hunch I'd better not throw it out for a while yet. There's a little waffle batter left, too. "

Starr had choked down a cup of coffee and a sandwich at the station lunchcounter before he left San Bonito, and he was glad now that he was nothungry. He stepped inside, but he did not smile back at Helen May; norcould he have accepted her hospitality to save himself from starvation. He felt enough like Judas as it was. 

"Don't put down your gun yet, " he said abruptly, standing beside the doorwith his hat in his hand, as though his visit would be very short. "Youcan shoot me if you want to, but that's about all the leeway I can giveyou. I rounded up the revolution leaders last night. They're likely atFort Bliss by now, so you can take your choice between handing me abullet, or going along with me to Fort Bliss. Because if I live, that'swhere I'll have to take you. And, " he added as an afterthought, "I don'tcare much which it is. "

Helen May stood with her chin tilted down, and stared at him from underher eyebrows. She did not speak for a minute, and Starr leaned backagainst the closed door with his arms folded negligently and his hatdangling from one hand, waiting her decision. He stared back at her, somberly apathetic. He had spoken the simple truth when he said he didnot care which she decided to do. He had come to the limit of suffering, it seemed to him. He could look into her tawny brown eyes now without anyemotion whatever. 

"You don't smell drunk, " said Helen May suddenly and very bluntly, "andyou don't look crazy. What is the matter with you, Starr of the desert?Is this a joke, or what?"

"It didn't strike me as any joke, " Starr told her passionlessly. "Thirteen of them I rounded up. Holman Sommers was the head of the wholething. Elfigo Apodaca is in jail, held for the shooting of Estan Medina. Luis Medina is in jail too, held as a witness and to keep Apodaca's menfrom killing him before he can testify in court. I hated to see the kidtangled up with it--and I hate to see you in it. But that don't give meany license to let you off. You're under arrest. I'm a Secret Serviceman, sent here to prevent the revolution that's been brewing all springand summer. I guess I've done it, all right. " He stared at her withgrowing bitterness in his eyes. His hurt began dully to ache again. "Helen May, what in God's name did you tangle up with 'em for?" heflashed in a sudden passion of grief and reproach. 

Helen May's chin squared a little; but she who had not screamed when shefound her father dead in his bed; she who had read his letter withoutwhimpering held her voice quiet now, though womanlike she answeredStarr's question with another. 

"What makes you think I am tangled up with it? What reason have you gotfor connecting me with such a thing?"

A stain of anger reddened Starr's cheek bones, that had been pale. "Whatreason? Well, I'll tell you. In the office of _Las Nuevas_, in thatlittle, inside room with the door opening out of a closet to hide it, where I got my first real clue, I found two sheets of paper with somestrong revolutionary stuff written in English. Also I found a pamphletwhere the same stuff had been printed in Spanish. I kept that writing, and I kept the pamphlet. I've got it now. I'd know the writing anywhereI saw it, and I saw a sample of it here in this very room, when the windblew those papers off your desk. "

"You--in this room!" Helen May caught her breath. "Why--why, you couldn'thave! I never wrote any revolution stuff in my life! Why--I don't knowthe first thing about _Las Nuevas_, as you call it. How could mywriting--?" She caught her breath again, for she remembered. 

"Why, Starr of the desert, that was Holman Sommers' writing you saw! Iremember now. Some pages of his manuscript blew off the desk when youwere here. See, I can show you a whole pile of it!" She ran to the desk, Starr following her mechanically. "See? All kinds of scientific junk thathe wanted typed. Isn't that the writing you meant? Isn't it?" Her handstrembled so that the papers she held close to Starr's face shook, butStarr recognized the same symmetrical, hard-to-read chirography. 

"Yes, that's it. " His voice was so husky that she could hardly hear him. He moistened his lips, that had gone dry. Was it possible? His mind keptasking over and over. 

"And here! I don't ask you to take my word for it--I know that just thosepages don't prove anything, because I might have written that stuffmyself--if I knew enough! But here's a lot that he sent over by thestage driver yesterday. I haven't even opened it yet. You can see thesame handwriting in the address, can't you? And if he has written anote--he does sometimes--and signed it--he always signs his name infull--why, that will be proof, won't it?" Her eyes burned into his andsteadied a little his whirling thoughts. 

"Open it, desert man! Open it, and see if there's a note! And you can askthe stage driver, if you don't believe me; here, break the string!"

She was now more eager than he to see what was inside the wrapping ofnewspaper. "See? That's an El Paso paper--and I don't take anything butthe _Times_ from Los Angeles! Oh, goody! There is a note! You read it, Starr. Read it out loud. If that doesn't convince you, why--why I canprove by Vic--"

Starr had unfolded the sheet of tablet paper, and Helen May interruptedherself to listen. Starr's voice was uneven, husky when he tried tocontrol the quiver in it. And this he read, in the handwriting of whichhe had such bitter knowledge:

"My Dear Miss Stevenson:

"I am enclosing herewith a part of Chapter Two, which I have revisedconsiderably and beg you to retype for me. If you have no asterisk signupon your machine, will you be so kind as to make use of the period signto indicate a break in the context of the quotations from the variousauthors whom I have cited?

"I wish to inform you that I am deeply sorry to place this extra burdenof work upon you, and also assure you that I am more than delighted withthe care you have exercised in deciphering correctly my most abominablechirography. 

"May I also suggest, with all due respect to your intelligence and with akeen appreciation of the potent influences of youth and romance upon eventhe drudgery of an amanuensis, that in writing "stars of the universe" ina scientific document, the connotation is marred somewhat when stars isspelled "Starr's. "

"Very apologetically your friend, "HOLMAN SOMMERS. "

It took several seconds for the full significance of that lastparagraph to sink into minds so absorbed with another matter. But whenit did sink in--

"Oh-h!" gasped Helen May, and backed a step, her face the color of a redhollyhock. 

Starr looked up from reading those pregnant words a second time tohimself. He reached out and caught Helen May by her two shoulders. 

"Did you do that?" he whispered impellingly. "Did you spell my name intothat man's manuscript?"

"No, I didn't! I don't believe I did--I never noticed--well, even if Idid, that doesn't mean--anything. " I hope the printers will set that_anything_ in their very smallest type, just to show you how weak andfutile and scarcely audible and absolutely unconvincing the word sounded. For one reason, Helen May did not have much breath to say it with; andfor another reason, she knew there was not much use in saying it. 

 * * * * *

Helen May, sitting unabashed on Starr's lap, with an arm around hisneck and her head on his shoulder, with her dish towel and gun lyingjust where she had dropped them on the floor some time before, tookPeter's last letter from Starr's fingers and drew it tenderly downalong her cheek. 

"I only wish you could have known dad, " she said with a gentle melancholythat was a great deal lightened by her present happiness. "He wasn't atall striking on the surface; he was so quiet and so unassuming. But hewas just the dearest and the bravest man--and when I think what he didfor me. .. "

"I know he was dear and brave; I can judge by his daughter. " Starrreached up and prisoned hand and letter together and held them againsthis lips. "Seems like a nightmare now that I ever thought--And to think Iheaded out here to. .. "

"Well, I _am_ your prisoner. " Helen May answered that part of thesentence which Starr had left unspoken. "Listen, desert man o' mine. I--I want to be your prisoner forever and ever and ever!"

"You won't get anything less than a life sentence, lady! And--"

"Hully gosh!" Vic, bursting open the door just in the middle of a kiss, skidded precipitately through to the kitchen. "Fade out!" he advisedhimself as he went. "But say! When you get around to it, I'd likesomething to eat, Helen Blazes!"

THE END