n instantly dismissing it from his mind
as of no consequence. He never connected himself with so remote an event.
Yet a few years later he, with many others, was fighting in France--a
lieutenant in the United States Army--just because a shot had been fired at
a man he had never heard of!

A strange world, he pondered, as he looked out over the blue hills, heavy
with heat, and meandering away to God knows where.

Then, surely it was no fault of his if the Government under which he lived
made no strenuous effort to stop the Mexican massacres of American citizens
all along the border. One firm word, one splendid gesture, and daring raids
would have ceased; and there would have been no menace of bandits
hereabouts. It would have been a country fit to live in. There would have
developed a feeling of permanence and peace, and a young chap could have
made his plans for the future with some sense of security and high
optimism. Surely they were entitled to protection--these brave boys and
stalwart sons of America who fearlessly took up claims, staked all, and
strove to make homes in this thrilling section along the borderland. They
were not mere adventurers; they were pioneers. They were of the best stuff
that America contained--clean-cut, clear-eyed, with level heads and high
hearts. Yet their own Government did not think enough of them to offer them
the sure protection they were entitled to.

Gilbert looked back on that distant day when he had gone up to Bisbee and
purchased four head of cattle, and brought them himself to this ranch he
had purchased, happy as only a fool is happy. Within a week they had
mysteriously disappeared.

Rumors of Mexican thieves and assassins had come to him, as they had come
to all the young land-owners along the line. He recalled how, after one
raid, in which a good citizen had been foully murdered in his bed, he had
called a meeting of the ranchers in their section, and with one voice they
agreed to send a protest to Washington.

They did so. Nothing happened. An aching silence followed. They wrote
again; and then one day a pale acknowledgment of their communication came
in one of those long and important-looking unstamped envelopes. It seemed
very official, very impressive. But mere looks never helped any cause. They
were not naive enough to expect the Secretary of State to come down in
person and see to the mending of things. But a platoon of soldiers--a
handful of troops--would have worked