g him.

"It grew up and bit him."

"Oh, and Juan Pachuca seemed so nice and friendly. But I suppose a tiger
cub feels soft and furry when it isn't scratching or biting."

"Exactly. You can't tell about these fellows down here. Maybe Pachuca
would have brought you over here safe and sound, and maybe he would have
taken the south fork of the road down yonder and carried you off to his
ranch to hold for a ransom."

"Oh," said Polly, faintly, "what a dreadful country!"

"Well, it's no place for tenderfeet. That's what I'm always telling our
neighbor--Herrick, over at Casa Grande. Bob ever write you about him?"

"Bob never writes me about anything--except Emma," said the girl. "But Mr.
Adams has been telling me about him. Does he live there all alone?"

"No, he's got a Chinese boy to cook for him and a lot of greasers working
on the place, but no white men around."

"I wish I could meet him."

"You can. I'll drive you over there any time you say."

Polly's face hardened. "I won't bother you," she said. "I don't know how
long I'll stay here. I want to telegraph Bob."

"I told Johnson to wire him from Conejo," said Scott, a bit coolly on his
side. "He may bring the return message back with him to-night."

Polly felt suddenly ashamed of herself. She rose and held out her hand.

"That was awfully thoughtful of you, Mr. Scott," she said. "I'm ever and
ever so much obliged to you, both for that and for last night. I suppose
if it hadn't been for you Senor Pachuca might have been sending pieces of
my fingers to Bob for a ransom."

Scott laughed but he took the hand awkwardly.

"I don't think Pachuca would do anything quite as raw as that--especially
with a lady," he said. "But I'm glad I went just the same. I don't take
chances with these chaps. Shall we walk down to dinner? Mrs. Van gets
pretty peeved if we're late to meals."

CHAPTER VI

LOCAL ACTIVITIES

Johnson did not bring a return message from Chicago.

"Family ain't got its breath yet, I reckon," he said, as he and Scott
discussed the matter. "She looks to me like the sort of youngster who
could keep a family pretty well stirred up," he added, candidly. "Girls
have changed sence you and me was young, Scotty."

"You've said it," was the terse reply.

"If you can believe what these magazine fellers write," went on the
engineer, pensively, "the girl of to-day is a sort of mixture of bronc,
ostrich, and rattlesnake thrown in. Smokes, drinks--say