a reputation in that line," he admitted. "But there
is stealing all up and down the border, since the war. You lost any
stuff?"

"Yes. Mostly horses."

"Sure! They need horses in Mexico."

"The ranchers have organized. They have formed a sort of vigilance
committee in each town, and talk of using bloodhounds."

"Bloodhounds ain't any good, outside of novels. If beef got scarce,
them Greasers would steal the dogs and eat 'em." He added,
meditatively, "Dog ain't such bad eatin', either."

"Have you tried it?"

Mr. Law nodded. "It was better than some of the army beef we got in the
Philippines." Then, in answer to her unspoken inquiry, "Yes'm, I served
an enlistment there."

"You--were a private soldier?"

"Yes'm."

Mrs. Austin was incredulous, and yet she could not well express her
surprise without too personal an implication. "I can't imagine
anybody--that is, a man like you, as a common soldier."

"Well, I wasn't exactly that," he grinned. "No, I was about the most
UNcommon soldier out there. I had a speakin' acquaintance with most of
the guard-houses in the islands before I got through."

"But why did you enlist--a man like you?"

"Why?" He pondered the question. "I was young. I guess I needed the
excitement. I have to get about so much or I don't enjoy my food."

"Did you join the Maderistas for excitement?"

"Mostly. Then, too, I believed Panchito Madero was honest and would
give the peons land. An honest Mexican is worth fightin' for, anywhere.
The pelados are still struggling for their land--for that and a chance
to live and work and be happy."

Mrs. Austin stirred impatiently. "They are fighting because they are
told to fight. There is no PATRIOTISM in them," said she.

"I think," he said, with grave deliberateness, "the majority feel
something big and vague and powerful stirring inside them. They don't
know exactly what it is, perhaps, but it is there. Mexico has outgrown
her dictators. They have been overthrown by the same causes that
brought on the French Revolution."

"The French Revolution!" Alaire leaned forward, eying the speaker with
startled intensity. "You don't talk like a--like an enlisted man. What
do you know about the French Revolution?"

Reaching for a coal, the Ranger spoke without facing her. "I've read a
good bit, ma'am, and I'm a noble listener. I remember good, too. Why, I
had a picture of the Bastille once." He pronounced it "Bastilly," and
his hearer settled back. "T