did you know anything about the place?"

"This lady told us it is her home."

"What?" from the man. "Do you mean to tell me this is the Senora
Blanco?"

"Even so, Senor," replied the lady. "No one would recognize me in
these rags and grief. Oh, Senor, had it not been for these brave
Americans I should have been devoured by a lion."

"You don't tell me. But I'd know they were the real thing. Their
faces show it. But come, let's go into the house. You'll excuse
me, Senora, for taking possession of your castle."

"It is yours, Senor. Do with it as you will. But will you not do
me the favor of your name?"

"I beg your pardon, Senora. I had forgotten. I am Ebenezer Black,
who owns the ranch across the valley. My daughter and I were out
on a hunt for some lost cattle when we were waylaid by this
so-called company of soldiers. I drove them off but my daughter
was wounded and I made for this place. Finding no one at home, I
took possession."

"I am so glad, Senor. And where is your daughter now?"

"Sitting in a big armchair, nursing a wounded arm."

"Oh, let us hasten," cried the senora. "I may be of some
assistance."

They hurried into the house and into the great library, now all
in disorder and strewn with bits of cigars and cigarettes. In one
of the big leather chairs sat a girl of some sixteen or
seventeen, with her left arm in a sling, but in her right hand
she held a glistening revolver. She was very slight, but dressed
in a riding costume of unique design, and with a wealth of soft
brown hair hanging just to her collar. With just a touch of
pallor due to the wound, the boys thought her the most beautiful
girl they had ever seen, not excepting Pedro's sister Guadalupe.

That the girl was surprised at the addition to the party goes
without saying. She looked first at her father, then at the
newcomers and then back to her father, as much as to ask: "Who
are they?"

"This," said Mr. Black as the senora came forward, "is the lady
of the house and her daughter. These are American boys, as you
can see, although you haven't had a chance to know many American
boys. I don't know their names, but names don't count. I'll vouch
for them."

"We are very highly complimented," laughed Donald, "but I shall
be pleased to introduce us. I am Donald Mackay. Now that you know
me, I will introduce my friends, Adrian Sherwood, ranch owner and
good fellow, and William Stonewall Jackson Winkle, better known
as 'Broncho Billie