ests, the cook was dragged out of the
kitchen and made to accompany the punchers to a place near the side of
the house. And there the six men watched, each with his hand on his
gun and with ears strained for the sound of a car. There was a road
which ran past the ranch and into the town. It was over this road that
the watching men expected the smugglers to come.

And now all settled down to a night of waiting.

CHAPTER XVIII

SMUGGLING OPERATIONS

Hardly a breath of wind stirred. The sky had become partly clouded,
blotting out the moon. Now and then a horse whinnied, softly, as
though frightened. The waiting men moved about uneasily, talking in
whispers. Nine o'clock passed. Then ten came. The air grew chill and
damp, and the clouds overhead gathered more thickly.

"Gonna rain," said the Kid in a low voice. "We sure are favorites with
the weather man."

"May hold off," Bud observed softly. He moved over to where Hawkins
was standing, eyes peering down the road. "What do you think of it?"
he asked the agent.

"Not much," was the quiet answer. "Looks like rain. That means we'll
have a hard job to see them when they do come."

"Hey, the Mex wants to go back," the Kid said, lowering his voice.
"He's cold, I guess."

"You tell him to stay where he is, or he'll be colder yet," Hawkins
said in a grim voice. "We can't afford to take any chances now. Bring
that Mex over here. I want to talk to him."

"What's that?" Dick suddenly asked.

They all listened tensely. In the distance they could hear a low
rumble.

"Thunder," Nort said. "First night storm we've had in a long while."

"Where's that Mexican?" inquired Hawkins again. "Bring him here, Kid."

Yellin' Kid led the cook to where Hawkins was intently watching the
road. The agent turned to the Mexican and stared hard at him.

"You know Jose Salvo?" he asked suddenly.

The Mexican nodded vigorously. Then he pointed to himself and held up
two fingers.

"His brother? Well, what do you know about that!" plainly the secret
service agent was surprised. "No wonder you look like him! Bud, you
remember that Mexican we saw in the restaurant the first day you hit
town? The one I told you to watch out for? Well, this bird is his
brother!"

"I thought it was the same one, when we first saw him! His brother,
eh? And what's he doin' at this ranch?"

The Mexican apparently heard the question, and endeavored to answer it.
In the gloom