dered the matter, recalling that in some ways Barlow did not seem
quite the old mate.

He found the rooms empty and threw himself into one of the big chairs
to wait. As he regarded the situation it had little enough to
recommend itself to a man of his stamp. He had not the least desire to
meddle in any way with Mexican revolutionary politics; upheavals would
come and come again, no doubt, for thus would a great country in due
time work out its own salvation. But it was no affair of his. This
fomenting nucleus into which he and Barlow had come was, he estimated,
foredoomed to failure and worse; one fine day Ruiz Rios and Fernando
Escobar and their outlaw followings would find themselves with their
backs to an adobe wall and their faces set toward a line of rifles.
And Zoraida Castelmar had best think upon that, too. For turbulent
times had borne women along with men to a quick undoing.

All this was clear to him. But here clarity gave way to groping
uncertainty. Less than anything else did he have a stomach for being
bottled up in any house in the world, Zoraida's house least of all, and
denied the freedom of the open. It looked as though he, who had never
done another man's command, must now do a girl's. At call she had
fifty, perhaps a hundred retainers, ugly-looking devils all and no
lovers of Americans who came unbidden into their country.

"There's always a way out of a mess like this," he told himself,
determined to find it. "But right now I don't see it."

There was also the lodestone toward which he and Barlow had steered and
which had drawn Fernando Escobar. And that amazing creature who coolly
laid claim to the royal blood of the Montezumas, laid claim as well to
their treasure trove. Just how any of them could make a move toward it
without her knowledge baffled him. And hence, more than ever before,
did his desire mount to get his own hands on it.

When presently Barlow entered, Kendric looked up at him thoughtfully.
Barlow bore along with him a subdued air of excitement.

"You've just left Rios?" asked Kendric.

"Yes." Barlow came in and closed the door, looking quickly and
questioningly at his friend. He appeared to hesitate, then said
hurriedly: "There are big things ahead, old Headlong! Big!"

"Shoot," answered Kendric sharply. "What's the play, man?"

Again Barlow hesitated, plainly in doubt just how far Kendric might be
in sympathy with him.

"It wouldn't make you mad to fill