im she'd gone? Is he going to try to chase Johnny Pachuca into the
mountains after her?"

"Gone clean nuts!" remarked Adams, gloomily.

"I knew that when I seen him rolling in the dirt and yelling
'half-breed,'" replied Johnson. "You might as well poison a Mexican as to
call him 'half-breed.' According to them they're all second cousins to the
King of Spain. Does your leg hurt much, Jimmy?"

"Well, I've had legs that felt better," said Adams, cheerfully. "Where you
going, Tom?" as the long, lank engineer swung out of the room.

"To see the boss get his throat cut," was the reply. "Pachuca's got the
money, the guns and the girl; it don't seem very good sense to hand him
the whole office force but if the boss says so, here goes."

CHAPTER VII

MISS CHICAGO

Polly stood where Scott left her, gazing after him with a mixture of
horror and excitement; horror at the thought that one of the terrible
raids of which she had so often heard was taking place scarce two hundred
yards from where she stood, and excitement because she was there--she,
Polly Street, who had so far in her life never met with any adventure more
thrilling than a punctured tire or a lost golf match.

Then, suddenly, it dawned upon her that Scott had left her his only
weapon; had gone empty-handed into the trouble! The thought carried a
double meaning. He had told her that she was safe, but he had left her his
gun. Then there was danger--the Mexicans might come and find her;
secondly, he had gone unarmed for her sake. He, the indifferent, the
uncaring, the man who didn't mind whether she smiled on him or snubbed
him! Was it only because she was a girl and he a man, or did he, after
all, care a little bit?

She had threatened, boastingly, to make him care, but she realized that
she was beginning to care a little herself; that she could not stay
quietly in the arroyo without knowing what was happening to him; that she
must see and hear no matter what the risk.

She looked about her in some perplexity. She had been told that a western
horse would stand contentedly if his reins were thrown over his head; but
she doubted the universal truth of this statement.

"They might if there was grass for them to nibble," she decided. "But they
never would in this hole. Come on, ponies, let's see what we can do." And
gathering up the reins she led the horses in the direction Scott had gone.
She saw the place where he had scrambled out of the arroyo, and, o