ed Yeager in a
matter-of-fact voice. He did not intend by an expression of sympathy to
aid in any breakdown here. That could come later when they had put many
miles between them and Arixico.

They led their horses out of the stable and swung to the saddles not a
minute too soon. A man came running toward them.

"Hold on," he called. "Just a moment. I'm the sheriff. They say a man
has been killed."

The fugitives put spurs to their broncos. The animals jumped to a
canter. Over his shoulder Steve looked back. The sheriff was standing
undecided. Before it penetrated his brain that these were the men he
wanted they were out of range.

For a time they rode in silence except for the clicking of the hoofs.
Yeager turned, his hand on the rump of his pony.

"Don't hear anything of them. We've made a clean getaway, looks like.
But they'll keep the wires warm after us--if Mendoza is dead."

The boy broke down, sobbing. "My God, I couldn't help it. What else
could I do? He was shooting when I fired."

"Sure he was, but that won't help you if they take you back to Mexico.
My advice is for you to get into a hole and draw it in after you, for a
few days anyhow. Where do you live?"

"At Los Robles--when I'm at home."

"Then you _are_ Phil Seymour?"

"Who told you?" flashed the boy.

"I board with your mother. I'm a rider for the Lunar Company."

"Then you know Chad Harrison. Chad will get me out of this. He'll fix
it."

"How'll he fix it?" demanded Yeager bluntly. "Back there across the line
they're going to call this by an ugly name--if Mendoza cashes in his
checks. Harrison can't fix murder, can he?"

A film of hard wariness covered the eyes of the boy as he looked across
in the darkness at the other man. "He's got friends," was the dry,
noncommittal answer that came to the range-rider after a moment's
distinct pause.

Yeager asked no more questions. There had been a "No trespass" sign in
Phil's manner. But as they rode silently toward Los Robles Steve's mind
groped again with the problem of Harrison's relation to those in power
across the border. Was the man tied up with old Pasquale? Or was he an
agent of the Huerta Government? Just now the Federals had control of
this part of the border. Did the boy mean that it was among them that
Harrison had friends? It looked that way, and yet--The cowpuncher could
not get it out of his head that the stolen cattle had been for old
Pasquale. Huerta's lieutenants were too war