e'; that will please them. If I can
keep the boys straight and teach the youngsters a little, that will be
about all the committee expects. Elder Concannon admitted that much to
me. You see, the whole committee are opposed to what they term
'new-fangled notions.'"

"But there is some sentiment in town for an improvement in the school,"
declared Janice. "Don't you know that? Many people would like to see the
children taught more, and the school more up-to-date."

"Oh, well," and Haley laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "The committee
seem to be in power, and--Well, Miss Day, you can be sure that I know
which side my bread is buttered on," he concluded, lightly.

Janice liked this bright, laughing young man very much. But she was
sorry he had no more serious interest in his position than this
conversation showed.

Then there suddenly came a time when Janice Day's own interest in
Poketown and Poketown people--in everything and everybody about
her--seriously waned. Daddy had not written for a fortnight. When the
letter finally came it had been delayed, and was not postmarked as
usual. Daddy only hinted at one of the belligerent armies being nearer
to the mines, and that most of his men had deserted.

There was trouble--serious trouble, or Daddy would not have kept his
daughter in suspense. Janice watched the mails, eagle-eyed. She wrote
letter after letter herself, begging him to keep her informed,--begging
him to come away from that hateful Mexico altogether.

"Broxton's no business to be 'way down there at all," growled Uncle
Jason, who was worried, too, and hadn't the tact to keep his feelings
secret from the girl. "Why, Walky Dexter tells me they are shootin'
white folks down there jest like we'd shoot squirrels in these parts."

"Oh, Jason!" gasped Aunt 'Mira. "It can't be as bad as that!"

"Wuss. They jest shot a rancher who was a Britisher, an' they say
there'll be war about it. I dunno. Does look as though our Government
ought ter do somethin' to protect Americans as well as Britishers. But,
hi tunket! Broxton hadn't ought ter gone down there--no, sir-ree!"

This sort of talk did not help Janice. She drooped about the house and
often crept off by herself into the woods and fields and brooded over
Daddy's peril. School had begun, and Marty went with several of the
bigger boys that had hung around Pringle's harness shop and the Inn
stables.

"That Nelse Haley is all right," the boy confided to his cousin.