me covered, about ten of them before I could show my face. They asked for
the cash box and when I said we hadn't one, one of 'em blazed away and hit
me in the leg. When I toppled over they made a rush for the office--most
of 'em over me."

"The safe?"

"I thought of that and it occurred to me that I'd better clear out before
it struck them that I might know the combination. So while they were
enjoying themselves inside, I crawled down here. I hadn't gone half-way
before I heard 'em blow it up. Oh, yes, they got the pay chest all right,
all right."

"Well, what then?" grunted Scott.

"Part of the crowd had gone down to the corral and the rest were down at
the store. Just as I crawled in here, I saw Williams come out of the store
and get it in the gun arm--the train gang were caught without their guns,
and they've got 'em all lined up outside the store. They've looted the
store and the corral and they've got all our greasers stirred up to join
'em. Say, there's no use your mixing in--you can't do anything."

"I can spoil Don Juan's pretty looks, I guess!" snarled Scott. "That'll be
something."

"Hold on--give me some more of that whiskey before you go. Thanks. Now go
and get your fool head shot off if you want to."

With a growl of rage, Scott flung out of the house. He strode in the
direction of the store where the prisoners still stood helplessly. They
had seen firearms, dry-goods, canned food, and Williams' cash box carried
out and deposited in the automobile which stood at the side of the store.
Now they awaited the next move. Pachuca was evidently gathering his forces
for departure. The Athens Mexicans had collected their families, their
household goods, and whatever else they could lay their hands on and were
ready to follow.

These preparations for a general exodus were the first things to strike
Scott as he came out of the cabin. It was exasperating, but what could you
expect? There was no knowing what rosy tale Pachuca had told them; more
than likely that the American army had crossed the border and that they
were striking for their altars and their fires. He saw women, babies, and
household goods loaded upon his good horse-flesh and disappearing down the
road.

Scott's blood boiled. His impulse was to shoot Juan Pachuca without
warning. He raised his arm and then he paused. One does not shoot men in
the back easily unless one is used to doing it. At that moment a Mexican
saw him and yelled. Instantl