and the mare came to him, holding her head to
one side so as not to tread upon her dragging reins.

"I'm 'most tempted to go with you," Blaze stammered, uncertainly.

"No. Somebody has to stay here and stir things up, If we had twenty men
like you we might cut our way in and out, but there's no time to
organize, and, anyhow, the government would probably stop us. I've got
a hunch that I'll make it. If I don't--why, it's all right."

The two men shook hands lingeringly, awkwardly; then Blaze managed to
wish his friend luck. "If you don't come back," he said, with a
peculiar catch in his voice, "I reckon there's enough good Texans left
to follow your trail. I'll sure look forward to it."

Dave took the river-bank to Sangre de Cristo, where, by means of the
dilapidated ferry, he gained the Mexican side. Once across, he rode
straight up toward the village of Romero. When challenged by an
under-sized soldier he merely spurred Montrosa forward, eyeing the
sentry so grimly that the man did no more than finger his rifle
uncertainly, cursing under his breath the overbearing airs of all
Gringos. Nor did the rider trouble to make the slightest detour, but
cantered the full length of Romero's dusty street, the target of more
than one pair of hostile eyes. To those who saw him, soldiers and
civilians alike, it was evident that this stranger had business, and no
one felt called upon to question its nature. There are men who carry an
air more potent than a bodyguard, and Dave Law was one of these. Before
the village had thoroughly awakened to his coming he was gone, without
a glance to the right or left, without a word to anyone.

When Romero was at his back he rode for a mile or two through a region
of tiny scattered farms and neglected garden patches, after which he
came out into the mesquite. For all the signs he saw, he might then
have been in the heart of a foreign country. Mexico had swallowed him.

As the afternoon heat subsided, Montrosa let herself out into a freer
gait and began to cover the distance rapidly, heading due west through
a land of cactus and dagger, of thorn and barb and bramble.

The roads were unfenced, the meadows desolate; the huts were frequently
untenanted. Ahead the sky burned splendidly, and the sunset grew more
brilliant, more dazzling, until it glorified the whole mean, thirsty,
cruel countryside.

Dave's eyes were set upon that riot of blazing colors, but for the time
it failed to thrill him.