EY, AND A DARK MAN

Alaire's preparations for the journey to La Feria were made with little
delay. Owing to the condition of affairs across the border, Ellsworth
had thought it well to provide her with letters from the most
influential Mexicans in the neighborhood; what is more, in order to
pave her way toward a settlement of her claim he succeeded in getting a
telegram through to Mexico City--no mean achievement, with most of the
wires in Rebel hands and the remainder burdened with military business.
But Ellsworth's influence was not bounded by the Rio Grande.

It was his advice that Alaire present her side of the case to the local
military authorities before making formal representation to Washington,
though in neither case was he sanguine of the outcome.

The United States, indeed, had abetted the Rebel cause from the start.
Its embargo on arms had been little more than a pretense of neutrality,
which had fooled the Federals not at all, and it was an open secret
that financial assistance to the uprising was rendered from some
mysterious Northern source. The very presence of American troops along
the border was construed by Mexicans as a threat against President
Potosi, and an encouragement to revolt, while the talk of intervention,
invasion, and war had intensified the natural antagonism existing
between the two peoples. So it was that Ellsworth, while he did his
best to see to it that his client should make the journey in safety and
receive courteous treatment, doubted the wisdom of the undertaking and
hoped for no practical result.

Alaire took Dolores with her, and for male escort she selected, after
some deliberation, Jose Sanchez, her horse-breaker. Jose was not an
ideal choice, but since Benito could not well be spared, no better man
was available. Sanchez had some force and initiative, at least, and
Alaire had no reason to doubt his loyalty.

The party went to Pueblo by motor--an unpleasant trip, for the road
followed the river and ran through a lonesome country, unpeopled save
for an occasional goat-herd and his family, or a glaring-hot village of
some half-dozen cubical houses crouching on the river-bank as if
crowded over from Mexican soil. This road remained much as the first
ox-carts had laid it out; the hills were gashed by arroyos, some of
which were difficult to negotiate, and in consequence the journey was,
from an automobilist's point of view, decidedly slow. The first night
the travelers were