ave pardners and
pardners in our time, but we'll never find one more of a thoroughbred
than that raggedy Indian witch-child of ours."

He took the slanting cattle trail up over the mesa, avoiding the wagon
road below, and at the far edge of it halted to look down over the
wide spreading leagues of the Mesa Blanca ranch.

It looked very sleepy, drowsing in the silence of the noon sun. An old
Indian limped slowly from the corral over to the ranch house, and a
child tumbled in the dust with a puppy, but there was no other sign of
ranch activity. As he descended the mesa and drew nearer the corrals
they had a deserted look, not merely empty but deserted.

The puppy barked him a welcome, but the child gave one frightened look
at Kit, and with a howl of fear, raced to the shelter of the portal
where he disappeared in the shadows.

"I had a hunch, Babe, that we needed smoothing down with a currycomb
before we made social calls," confessed Kit to the burro, "but I
didn't reckon on scaring the natives in any such fashion as this."

He was conscious of peering eyes at a barred window, and then the old
Indian appeared.

"Hello, Isidro!"

"At your service, senor," mumbled the old man, and then he stared at
the burro, and at the bearded and rather desert-worn stranger, and
uttered a cry of glad recognition.

"Ai-ji! It is El Pajarito coming again to Mesa Blanca, but coming with
dust in your mouth and no song! Enter, senor, and take your rest in
your own house. None are left to do you honor but me,--all gone like
that!" and his skinny black hands made a gesture as if wafting the
personnel of Mesa Blanca on its way. "The General Rotil has need the
cattle, and makes a divide with Senor Whitely and all go,--all the
herds," and he pointed east.

Kit bathed his face in the cool water brought out by Valencia,
Isidro's wife, then unloaded the burro of the outfit, and stretched
himself in the shade while the women busied themselves preparing
food.

"So General Rotil makes a divide of the cattle,--of Whitely's cattle?
How is that?" he asked.

And the old Indian proceeded to tell him that it was true. The
Deliverer must feed his army. He needed half, and promised Whitely to
furnish a guard for the rest of the herd and help Whitely save them by
driving them to Imuris, where the railroad is.

"He said enemy troops would come from the south and take them all in
one week or one month. He, Rotil, would pay a price. Thus it was, and