she drew up at the house, two young men popped into the car, pointed
revolvers at her and told her to drive up the avenue. Well, she drove up
the avenue! She said the feel of that cold thing on the back of her neck
kept her awake at night for months. Then when they had gone a little way,
they stopped, dumped both the women out, and went off with the car."

"Gosh, Chicago must be a great little place!" remarked Matt, admiringly.

"It just came to me when I saw them putting all those things into the car
that if anybody could hide in it and make whoever was driving return the
goods it would be--well--rather a nice thing to do. Of course, I took an
awful chance. The horseback people might not have taken the trail--but
even then the machine would have outdistanced them. I felt sure I could
get Pachuca alone."

"You took a chance you'd no business to take," growled Scott. "When I told
you to stay down in that arroyo, I meant stay."

"I know you did but I couldn't," apologized Polly.

"The only thing you did wrong was not leaving that young reptile in the
middle of the road like the thieves did those women," pronounced Mrs. Van
Zandt, authoritatively.

"I thought of it but I didn't have the heart," said Polly. "After all,
he'd been kind to me, and he is a gentleman."

"Gentleman! My God!" Scott's profanity was innocent with true horror.

"First time I ever heard a hoss-thief called a gentleman," chuckled Matt.

"Well," Polly looked a bit crestfallen. "I mean, he's educated and he
comes of good family."

"I don't go much on family," said Mrs. Van, wisely. "I've seen some mighty
mean skunks hangin' around stage doors who were as blue-blooded as dogs in
a show. Why, even your own family you can't be too sure about! I had an
old auntie who used to say she never went back of second cousins--'twasn't
safe."

"Well, that's true, too," pronounced Matt. "Some don't feel easy even with
seconds." He gathered up his dishes and followed Mrs. Van into the kitchen
with them. Polly ate industriously, while Scott stalked to the window and
stood lighting a cigarette.

"Mr. Scott," she said, after a long pause, "are you worried about Jimmy
Adams?"

"Yes, I am," was the curt reply.

"Isn't there a doctor in Conejo?"

"Yes, but he's a dirty scoundrel; I'd hate to have him handle a case like
this. We may have to, though, thanks to your gentleman friend."

"You're rather a rude person, aren't you?"

"I reckon so. Anyhow, if he's