e street, I reckon. And if you look into it you'll find
she's here of her own free will."

Steve was now stropping a razor. His back was toward the officer, but
without turning he could see him by looking in the glass.

"You've got the wrong steer, captain. She's as straight a girl as ever
lived," answered Yeager in perfectly good English.

Holcomb sat up straight. "Turn round, my man," he ordered crisply.

The range-rider did as he was told. The light, blue-gray eyes of the
officer bored into his.

"You're no Mexican," charged the Texan.

"No. Arizona is where I hang up my hat."

"What are you, then? A spy?"

"I reckon, maybeso." Steve admitted the thrust lightly. "Got time to
hear all about it, captain?"

"Go ahead."

The range-rider told it, the whole story, so far as it could be related
by him. Such details as his modesty omitted Holcomb's imagination was
easily able to supply.

The Texan paced up and down the room with the long, light, military
stride.

"And you say Pasquale has been with her all day--that he ate lunch with
her and is riding with her now?"

"Yes. Just watch his eyes when he looks at her if you're in doubt about
the old villain. There's a tiger look in them, and something else that's
worse." Yeager chanced to glance out of the window. "Here they come now
back from their ride. Why not meet them as they alight?"

The captain reached for his hat and led the way down the street. Cabenza
followed him, a step or two in the rear. They reached headquarters just
as Pasquale lifted Ruth from the saddle. He held her for a moment in his
strong arms and grinned down at her frightened, fascinated eyes.

"Adios, chatita!" he murmured, his little eyes dancing with triumph.

She fled from him into the house, terror giving speed to her limbs.

Upon Holcomb the dictator turned eyes that had grown cold and harsh
again.

"Welcome, captain, welcome, to the Northern Legion," he said brusquely,
offering a gauntleted hand.

They went into the house together, Pasquale's arm across the shoulder of
the Texan.

"Dios, I'm glad to see you, captain," the insurgent chief ran on
quickly. "This riff-raff of mine can't hit a hillside. Hammer the
artillery into shape and I'll say gracias."

"Yes. I see you have a countrywoman of mine visiting you," the American
said quietly.

"From Arizona." The Mexican laughed harshly. "We should get together
more, your country and mine. We should bind the States and the