a
midnight fray. On a side table were cigars, cigarettes, and liquor in
plenty. Holcomb intended to see that his guests were properly
entertained while Steve played the bigger and more dangerous game
outside.

The range-rider knew that the odds were against him, that any one of
fifty trifling accidents might bring to failure the plan he had made.
All he could do was to make his preparations as skillfully as he could
and then try to carry them out coolly and with determination.

The Mexican boy who had been hired to act as an attendant on the
card-players arrived and Yeager took his leave. The captain followed him
to the porch.

"Good luck, Steve," he said quietly.

"Same to you, captain. We'll talk this all over across the line in God's
country some time."

"Sure," nodded Holcomb. "Well, so-long."

The younger man answered the nod casually and turned away down the
street. Neither of them thought of shaking hands. Whatever was to happen
was all in the day's work. Both of them belonged to that type of
Westerner which sees a thing through without any dramatics. That this
happened to be a particularly critical thing had no effect on their
manner.

Holcomb lit a cigar and sat down on the porch to wait for his guests.
They came presently. First were Pasquale and Ochampa, rough and ready as
to clothes, unshaven, betraying continually the class from which they
had risen. Culvera dropped in after a few minutes. He had discarded his
uniform and was in the picturesque regalia of the young Mexican
cavalier. From jingling silver spurs to the costly gold-laced sombrero
he was every inch the dandy. His manners were the pink of urbanity.
Nothing was lacking in particular to the affectionate deference he
showed his chief. It suggested somehow the love of a son and the
admiration of a devoted admirer.

The general was riding a wave of exhilaration. He had trodden down
another of his enemies and was about to take to himself the spoils of
the battle. Still in his vigorous prime, he was assured the stars were
beckoning him to take the place in Mexico City that neither Madero nor
Huerta had been strong enough to hold. He promised himself to settle
down to moderation, to have done with the wild drinking-bouts that
still occasionally interfered with his efficiency. Meanwhile, to-night
he was again saying farewell to his bachelor days. He drank liberally
but not excessively.

Ochampa proposed the health and happiness of the bride.