go with you on the horse shipment, and now another must go. Perhaps
his brother here."

"Oh--ah--yes," assented Rhodes thoughtfully. He was not so old as
Conrad, and quite aware he was not so clever, and he didn't know their
game, so he strove as he could to hold the meaning of what he had
heard, and ended rather lamely: "Well, too bad about Miguel, but if
you, Tomas, are going instead, you had better get your war togs ready.
We start tonight from the Junction, and have three hours to get
ready."

"Three hours only!" again Herrara seemed to weaken. To start in three
hours a journey into the unknown far East of the Americano was beyond
his imaginings. He shrugged his shoulders, tossed his hands outwards
in despair, and turned toward the barns.

Conrad looked after him in irritation, and then smiled at Rhodes. He
had a rather ingratiating smile, and it the first time he had betrayed
it to Kit.

"These explosive Latins," he said derisively. "I think I can make him
reasonable, and you go forward with your own preparations."

He followed Herrara, leaving Kit staring after them wondering. His
glance then rested on the automobile, and he noted that it had not
merely come out of the garage for the usual work of the day. It had
been traveling somewhere, for the wheels were crusted with mud--mud
not there at sunset yesterday. And in that section of Pima there was
no water to make mud nearer than Poso Verde, and it was over there
Miguel Herrara had been hurt!

He had only three hours, and no time to investigate. There were rumors
of smuggling all along the line over there, and strange conferences
between Mexican statesmen and sellers of Connecticut hardware of an
explosive nature. He recalled having heard that Singleton was from
Connecticut, or was it Massachusetts? Anyway, it was over there at the
eastern edge of the country somewhere, and it was also where plots and
counter plots were pretty thick concerning ammunition; also they were
more complicated on the Mexican border. He wondered if Singleton was
as simple as he looked, for he certainly was paying wages to a mixed
lot. Also it was a cinch to run any desirable contraband from Granados
across to La Partida and from there hellwards.

He wondered if Singleton knew? But Singleton had a capable business
manager, while he, Rhodes, was only a range boss with the understanding
that he adjust himself to any work a white man might qualify for.

The mere fact that once he