the best rooms we've got. Give 'em the bridal soot if you can find
it."

Hard, suitcases in hand, followed the women into the hotel, while Mendoza
steamed away to a haunt of his own. Scott sank into an armchair and
settled himself for a talk with Penhallow.

"That young Street's sister?" demanded the latter.

Scott nodded.

"I heard Bob Street had married a Douglas girl?"

"He did." Scott explained the situation in regard to Polly. "Her people
are anxious about her and wrote her to come back at once, so we're
carrying out instructions. The other folks----" Scott paused and surveyed
the sheriff with an eye that twinkled. "Are you good at keeping secrets,
Sam?" he said.

"Well, I have kept 'em," replied Sam, modestly.

"Well, the lady is a widow, runs a ranch down South, and the tall chap is
our chief engineer, a Boston man. They're up here to get spliced before
she goes East."

"So! Well, no reason why they shouldn't, I s'pose?"

"None that I know of."

"I kind of had a hunch 'twas her and you when you got out of the car,
Marc."

"Me!"

"Yes. You needn't blush. You ain't too old to think of settlin' down if
you pick a woman that ain't too young and giddy for you."

"I'm not asking your advice on matrimony, you old fool, I'm asking if
you've got anybody in this one-horse place who can marry folks legally,"
said Marc, touchily.

"The judge could, I guess, but in a case like this there'd be more tone to
it if you had the Padre. We haven't got any Protestant fellow here just
now," replied Penhallow, meditatively.

"The Padre's the boy. I'll go over and interview him now."

"You can't. He's to a christening at some Mexican's up the creek. Won't be
home till late."

"Well, morning's as good a time as any, I reckon, for a wedding," said
Scott, philosophically. "We've got to stay over anyhow, to see the women
off. Tomorrow's your train day, ain't it? Or have you changed your
schedule?"

"No, we haven't changed it," replied Penhallow. "Only we don't run on it
much. We will to-morrow, though, because I'm sending a lot of hogs over."

"That's good. Say, what do they think up here of the revolution?"

"Which one?" with a chuckle.

"The new one. Looks like the real thing down yonder."

"Well, of course, we were looking for trouble before the elections. We
never expected the old man to keep his hands off the ballot box and
everyone knows the man he put up--Bonillas--has got no show. It'll be
Obregon, I s'