uld tell Don Eduardo, God rest his soul! This much I
do know, however: not long ago there came a letter from General
Longorio, offering settlement for those cattle he stole in his
government's name. Dolores told me the senora was highly pleased and
was going to Mexico for her money. It was a mark of Longorio's favor,
you understand me? He's a great--friend, an ardent admirer." Benito
winked. "Dolores told me all about that, too. No, I think they went to
La Feria."

Dave remembered his first conversation with Phil Strange and the
fortune-teller's insistence that some powerful person was behind Jose
Sanchez. More than three weeks ago Strange had forecast something very
like murder of Ed Austin. Dave felt as if he were the victim of an
hysterical imagination. Nevertheless, he forced himself to ask, quietly:

"Is Jose Sanchez anywhere about?"

The range boss shrugged. "I sent him to the east pasture this morning."

"Did he go?"

"Eh? So! You suspect Jose of this. God in heaven! Jose is a wild
boy--But wait! I'll ask Juan if he saw him; yes, and Victoria, too.
That is Victoria you hear squalling in the kitchen. Wait here."

Benito hurried away, leaving Dave a prey to perplexity; but he was back
again in a few moments. His face was grave.

"Jose did not go to the east pasture," he said.

"Where is he now?"

"No one seems to know."

Law walked to his horse, mounted, and galloped away. Benito, who
watched him, saw that he turned toward the river road which led to the
Las Palmas pumping-plant.

The more Dave thought about Ed Austin's death, the more certain he
became that it was in some way connected with Alaire's disappearance;
and the loose end by which the tangle might be unraveled, it seemed to
him, lay in the hands of Rosa Morales, Jose's sweetheart. That Sanchez
was the murderer Dave now had little doubt; but since the chance of
apprehending him was small, he turned his attention to the girl. He
would make Rosa speak, he told himself, if he had to use force--this
was no time for gentle methods. If she knew aught of Alaire's
whereabouts or the mystery of her departure from Las Palmas, he would
find a way to wring the truth from her. Dave's face, a trifle too
somber at all times, took on a grimmer aspect now; he felt a slow fury
kindling in his breast.

Years of experience had taught him to be always alert even during his
moments of deepest preoccupation, and so, from force of habit, when he
came to the pump-