the little cemetery above the town, but nobody
knows who's buried in it. There hasn't been a death in Romero lately."
The speaker watched his friend closely. "Ricardo's family would like to
have his body, and I'd like to see it myself. Wouldn't you? We could
tell just what happened to him. If he really faced a firing-squad, for
instance--I reckon Washington would have something to say, eh?"

"What are you aimin' at?" Blaze inquired.

"If we had Ricardo's body on this side it would put an end to all the
lies, and perhaps force Colonel Blanco to make known the real facts. It
might even mean a case against Tad Lewis. What do you think of my
reasoning?"

"It's eighteen karat. What d'you say we go over there and get Ricardo?"

Dave smiled. "That's what I've been leading up to. Will you take a
chance?"

"Hell, yes!"

"I knew you would. All we need is a pair of Mexicans to--do the work. I
liked Ricardo; I owe him something."

"Suppose we're caught?"

"In that case we'll have to run for it, and--I presume I'll be
discharged from the Ranger service."

"I ain't very good at runnin'--not from Mexicans." Blaze's eyes were
bright and hard at the thought. "It's more'n possible that, if they
discover us, we can start a nice little war of our own."

That evening Dave managed to get his Ranger captain by long-distance
telephone, and for some time the two talked guardedly. When Dave rang
off they had come to a thorough understanding.

It had been an easy matter for Jose Sanchez to secure a leave of
absence from Las Palmas, especially since Benito was not a little
interested in the unexplained disappearance of Panfilo and work was
light at this time. Benito did not think it necessary to mention the
horse-breaker's journey to his employer; so that Alaire knew nothing
whatever about the matter until Jose himself asked permission to see
her on a matter of importance.

The man had ridden hard most of the previous night, and his excitement
was patent. Even before he spoke Alaire realized that Panfilo's fate
was known to him, and she decided swiftly that there must be no further
concealment.

"Senora! A terrible thing!" Jose burst forth. "God knows, I am nearly
mad with grief. It is about my sainted cousin. It is strange,
unbelievable! My head whirls--"

Alaire quieted him, saying in Spanish, "Calm yourself, Jose, and tell
me everything from the beginning."

"But how can I be calm? Oh, what a crime! What a misfortune! Well,