he was enjoying it all, feeling real comfort, a kind of
fitness, as if he belonged here and would better remain here for ever.
Then, with a generous supply of alfalfa tossed to him, as to the other
horses, he became convinced that he should remain in this little
settlement for all time.

Along in the afternoon the storekeeper, accompanied by a native woman,
who was tear-stained and weeping, crossed the settlement. At the moment
the men, lounging about on blankets, were discussing ways and means for
Stephen. He need not continue with them now, they informed him, unless
he wanted to. Arrangements could be made here to get him to a railroad
in some kind of vehicle, leading Pat behind. But it was up to him. They
weren't hurrying him away, by any means, yet it sure was up to him to
get proper treatment for his arm, which showed slow signs of recovery.

Stephen was considering this when the two Mexicans approached. The
proprietor of the store started to explain, when the little woman draped
in a black mantilla interrupted him with further sobbing and a pointing
finger--pointing back across the settlement.

"_Caballeros_," she began, "you coom please wit' me, I--I haf show
you soomt'ing." Then again she burst into weeping.

Startled, Stephen arose, and the others gained their feet. They set out
across the settlement. They struck between some adobe houses, crossed
some back yards, dodged under clothes-lines, and found themselves in a
tiny graveyard. The woman brought them to a stop before a fresh mound of
earth. Here she knelt in another outburst of tears, while the
gimlet-eyed storekeeper explained.

It was a little boy twelve years old. The marauders had stolen his pig.
He had bitterly denounced them, and one--evidently the leader--had shot
him. It was too bad! But it was not all. In one of the houses, the large
house they had passed in coming here, lay an old man, seventy-eight
years of age, dying from a rifle-shot. Yes, the renegade Indians had
shot him also. What had he done? He had defended his chickens against
theft. It was too bad! It was all too bad! Could not there something be
done? To live in peace, to live in strict accord with all known laws,
such was the aim and such had been the conduct of these people. And then
to have a band of cutthroats, murderers, thieves, descend upon their
peace and quiet in this fashion! It was all too bad!

The rangers turned away from the scene. All save the woman set out
across