g was different
in Jondo from that day, but it did not change his gentle nature toward
his fellow-men. During our short stay in Santa Fe we hardly saw him at
all. We children were too busy with other things to ask questions, and
everybody but Rex Krane was too busy to be questioned. Having nothing
else to do, Rex became our chaperon, as Uncle Esmond must have foreseen
he would be when he measured the young man in Independence on the day we
left there.

To-night Esmond Clarenden, smiling and good-natured, paid no heed to the
sharp eyes of this stranger fixed on him.

"What's the matter now, little weather-vane? You are always first to
sense a coming change," he declared.

"Uncle Esmond, I saw that man watching us like he knew us, out there on
the Plaza to-day. Who is he?" I asked, in a low tone.

"His name is Ferdinand Ramero. You will find him watching everywhere.
Let that man alone as you would a snake," my uncle warned us.

"Is that his boy?" I asked.

"What boy?" Uncle Esmond inquired.

"Marcos, the boy I pitched endways out of the church. He's bigger than
Bev, too," I declared, proudly.

"Gail Clarenden, are you crazy?" Uncle Esmond exclaimed.

"No, I'm not," I insisted, and then I told what had happened at the
church, adding, "I saw Marcos with that man in the Plaza, and they went
away together."

Esmond Clarenden's face grew grave.

"What kind of a looking child was she, Gail?" he asked, after a pause.

"Oh, she had yellow hair and big sort of dark eyes! She could squeal
like anything. She wasn't a baby girl at all, but a regular little
fighter kind of a girl."

I grew bashful all at once and hesitated, but my uncle did not seem to
hear me, for he turned to Rex Krane and said, in low, earnest tones:

"Krane, if you can locate that child for me you will do me an invaluable
service. It was largely on her account that I came here now, and it's a
god-send to have a fellow like you to save time for me. Every man has
his uses. Your service will be a big one to me."

The young man's face flushed and his eyes shone with a new light.

"If any of you happen to see that girl let me know at once," my uncle
said, turning to us, "but, remember, don't act as if you were hunting
for her."

"I know now right where she lives. It's up a crooked street by that
church. I saw her run in there," I insisted.

"Every hut looks like every other hut, and every little Mex looks like
every other little Mex," Beverly dec