caught a glimpse of wild, shaggy horses and
ragged, dusty men. She had never seen any vaqueros that resembled these
horsemen. Vaqueros had grace and style; they were fond of lace and
glitter and fringe; they dressed their horses in silvered trappings. But
the riders now trampling into the driveway were uncouth, lean, savage.
They were guerrillas, a band of the raiders who had been harassing the
border since the beginning of the revolution. A second glimpse assured
Madeline that they were not all Mexicans.

The presence of outlaws in that band brought home to Madeline her real
danger. She remembered what Stillwell had told her about recent outlaw
raids along the Rio Grande. These flying bands, operating under the
excitement of the revolution, appeared here and there, everywhere, in
remote places, and were gone as quickly as they came. Mostly they wanted
money and arms, but they would steal anything, and unprotected women had
suffered at their hands.

Madeline, hurriedly collecting her securities and the considerable money
she had in her desk, ran out, closed and locked the door, crossed the
patio to the opposite side of the house, and, entering again, went down
a long corridor, trying to decide which of the many unused rooms would
be best to hide in. And before she made up her mind she came to the last
room. Just then a battering on door or window in the direction of the
kitchen and shrill screams from the servant women increased Madeline's
alarm.

She entered the last room. There was no lock or bar upon the door. But
the room was large and dark, and it was half full of bales of alfalfa
hay. Probably it was the safest place in the house; at least time would
be necessary to find any one hidden there. She dropped her valuables in
a dark corner and covered them with loose hay. That done, she felt
her way down a narrow aisle between the piled-up bales and presently
crouched in a niche.

With the necessity of action over for the immediate present, Madeline
became conscious that she was quivering and almost breathless. Her skin
felt tight and cold. There was a weight on her chest; her mouth was dry,
and she had a strange tendency to swallow. Her listening faculty seemed
most acute. Dull sounds came from parts of the house remote from her.
In the intervals of silence between these sounds she heard the squeaking
and rustling of mice in the hay. A mouse ran over her hand.

She listened, waiting, hoping yet dreading to hear t