he was calling them, and his tone brought them on the run.
"Now, what do you make of that?" he wanted to know, and pointed.

Two fresh mounds of earth, narrow, long--graves, if size and shape meant
anything at all. The form of a "T" they made there in the grass; for one
was short and extended across, near one end of the larger one.

"What do you make of that?" Dade repeated, much lower than before.

"Senors, evil has been done here. Me, I think--"

"Don't think! Bring that shovel, over there--see it, by the tree?--and
dig. There's one way to find out what it means."

Valencia did not want to dig into those mounds, but the voice was that
of his majordomo, whom he had for a month obeyed implicitly. He got the
shovel and he dug. And since it seemed too bad to make him do all the
work, Jack and Dade each took their turn in opening the grave.

And in that grave they found Mrs. Jerry, wrapped in her faded patchwork
quilt, her hands folded at peace, her wistful brown eyes closed
softly--There was no need to speculate long upon the cause of her death.
Her shapeless brown dress was stained dark from throat to waist. Dade,
shuddering a little, very gently lifted the hands that were folded;
beneath was the hole where the bullet had struck.

"Dios!" said Valencia, in a whisper.

They were three white-faced young men who stood there, abashed before
the tragedy they had uncovered. After a little, they filled the grave
again and stood back, trying to think the thing out and to think it out
calmly. They drew away from the spot, Dade leading.

"We don't need to open the other one," he said. "That holds Tige, of
course. I wonder--"

"Let's look around out there in the bushes," Jack suggested. "I can see
how the thing must have happened; somebody came and started
shooting--and that rifle he called Jemina, and the two pistols--don't
you reckon they did some good for themselves?"

"Probably--if Jerry was here."

"Man, he must have been here! Who else--" he tilted his head towards the
graves. Surely, no one but Jerry would have buried them so, with Tige
lying at the feet of his mistress. And, as Jack presently pointed out,
if the shooting had taken place in Jerry's absence, he would certainly
have notified them at the ranch. And Jack had a swift mental picture of
Jerry galloping furiously up to the patio on one of his mules,
brandishing his rifle, while he shouted to all around him the news of
this terrible, unbelievable thing