going
to be inside of three years--he could have great influence. And yet he
remembered that the present Mexican Governor of Baja California was an
exceedingly competent man. He was shrewd and efficient, and deeply
interested in the development of his province. Moreover, he was
friendly to Americans, and seemed to have more than an ordinary sense
of justice toward them.

Reedy shook his head. He did not believe he could have much chance
with the Governor--not at present, anyway. But perhaps some minor
official might help put over his schemes. Anyway, Madrigal would know.

The Mexican Jew came directly, dressed in light flannels, a flower in
his buttonhole. Debonairly he lifted his panama and bowed with
exaggerated politeness to Jenkins.

"What great good has Senor Reedy clabbering in his coco now?" He
grinned impudently.

Jenkins frowned. His dignity was not to be so trifled with.

"Sit down," he ordered.

Reedy relighted his cigar, put his thumbs in his vest holes, and began
slowly puffing smoke toward the ceiling. He liked to keep his
subordinates waiting.

"Madrigal," he said, directly, "I want those two ranches--Chandler's
and Rogeen's."

"_Si, si._" The Mexican nodded shrewdly. "And Senor Jenkins shall
have them."

"We've got to get rid of Rogeen first. Then the other will be easy."

"Et es so, senor," Madrigal said, warmly. He abated Rogeen on his own
account, for Senor Madrigal had formed a violent attachment for the
Senorita Chandler. And the damned Americano with his fiddle was in the
way.

"If," suggested Reedy, smoking slowly, "Rogeen should be induced to
leave the country within three weeks--or in case he happened to some
accident so he could not leave at all--we'd make four thousand out of
his ranch. Half of that would be two thousand."

Madrigal's black eyes narrowed wickedly, and his thick lips rolled up
under his long nose.

"Mexico, senor, is the land of accidents."

"All right, Madrigal," Reedy waved dismissal and turned to his desk and
began to figure--or pretend to figure.

The Mexican turned in the door, looked back on the bulky form of
Jenkins, started to speak, grinned wickedly, and went down the outside
stairway.

On the evening of the third of August Bob came in from the fields and
prepared his own supper. Since the arrest of his Chinamen a few weeks
before Rogeen had not employed any other help. The cotton cultivation
was over, and he and Noah could ma