urselves. Mebbe the Don wants to pay a sociable
call on our ladies. Mebbe his gang is some hungry, as usual. Mebbe they
want to steal a few hosses, or anythin' they can lay hands on. Mebbe
they mean wuss, too. Now my idee is this, an' mebbe it's wrong. I long
since separated from love with Greasers. Thet black-faced Don Carlos has
got a deep game. Thet two-bit of a revolution is hevin' hard times.
The rebels want American intervention. They'd stretch any point to make
trouble. We're only ten miles from the border. Suppose them guerrillas
got our crowd across thet border? The U. S. cavalry would foller.
You-all know what thet'd mean. Mebbe Don Carlos's mind works thet way.
Mebbe it don't. I reckon we'll know soon. An' now, Stewart, whatever the
Don's game is, shore you're the man to outfigger him. Mebbe it's just as
well you're good an' mad about somethin'. An' I resign my job because I
want to feel unbeholdin' to anybody. Shore it struck me long since thet
the old days hed come back fer a little spell, an' there I was trailin'
a promise not to hurt any Greaser."

XIX. Don Carlos

Stewart took Nels, Monty, and Nick Steele aside out of earshot, and they
evidently entered upon an earnest colloquy. Presently the other cowboys
were called. They all talked more or less, but the deep voice of Stewart
predominated over the others. Then the consultation broke up, and the
cowboys scattered.

"Rustle, you Indians!" ordered Stewart.

The ensuing scene of action was not reassuring to Madeline and her
friends. They were quiet, awaiting some one to tell them what to do. At
the offset the cowboys appeared to have forgotten Madeline. Some of them
ran off into the woods, others into the open, grassy places, where they
rounded up the horses and burros. Several cowboys spread tarpaulins
upon the ground and began to select and roll small packs, evidently for
hurried travel. Nels mounted his horse to ride down the trail. Monty
and Nick Steele went off into the grove, leading their horses. Stewart
climbed up a steep jumble of stone between two sections of low, cracked
cliff back of the camp.

Castleton offered to help the packers, and was curtly told he would
be in the way. Madeline's friends all importuned her: Was there real
danger? Were the guerrillas coming? Would a start be made at once for
the ranch? Why had the cowboys suddenly become so different? Madeline
answered as best she could; but her replies were only conjecture, an