ace now. So you ride in and
tell the sheriff and tell the coroner. Say that you suspect Elfigo
Apodaca. The sheriff will do the rest."

"What does the senor advise, my son?" murmured the mother, plucking at
the sleeve of Luis. "The good friend he was to my poor Estan--my son! Do
thou what he tells thee, for he is wise and good, and he would not guide
thee wrong."

Luis hesitated, staring down at the dead body of Estan. "I will go," he
said, breaking in upon the sound of the peona's reasonless weeping. "I
will do that. The sheriff is not Mexican, or--" He checked himself
abruptly and peered across at Starr. "I go," he repeated hastily.

He stood up, and Starr rose also and assisted the old lady to her feet.
She seemed inclined to cling to him. Her Estan had liked Starr, and for
that her faith in him never faltered now. He laid his arm protectively
around her shaking shoulders.

"Senora, go you in and rest," he commanded gently, in Spanish. "Have the
girl bring a blanket to cover Estan--for here he must remain until he is
viewed by the coroner--you understand? Your son would be grieved if you
do not rest. You still have Luis, your little son. You must be brave and
help Luis to be a man. Then will Estan be proud of you both." So he
suited his speech to the gentle ways of the old senora, and led her back
to the shelter of the porch as tenderly as Estan could have done.

He sent the peona for a lamp to replace the one that had broken when
Estan fell with it in his hand. He settled the senora upon the
cowhide-covered couch where her frail body could be comfortable and she
still could feel that she was watching beside her son. He placed a pillow
under her head, and spread a gay-striped serape over her, and tucked it
carefully around her slippered feet. The senora wept more quietly, and
called him the son of her heart, and brokenly thanked God for the
tenderness of all good men.

He explained to her briefly that he had been riding to town by a
short-cut over the ridge when he heard the shot and hurried down; and
that, having left his horse up there, he must go up after it and bring it
around to the corral. He would not be gone longer than was absolutely
necessary, he told her, and he promised to come back and stay with her
while the officers were there. Then he hurried away, the senora's broken
thanks lingering painfully in his memory.

At the top of the bluff, where he had climbed as fast as he could, he
stood for a mi