“Both! Who’s the other?” demanded Mrs. Van Zandt, instantly.
“Mr. Hellick got flend—Mrs. Conlad,” said Li, wearily. “She come day before yest’day—from Mexico City. Mr. Hard’s flend, too.”
“Good Heavens, now what do you suppose the heathen means by that?” gasped the astonished woman. “Come here,” she added, sternly, and seizing the Chinaman by the sleeve of his blouse, she led him into the room occupied by Polly. Dramatically, she pointed to the photograph on the wall. “Is that the woman you’re talking about?”
Li examined the face gravely and nodded. “Yes,” he said, “only younger here.”
Mrs. Van released him suddenly. “All right, go on in and see the boy,” she said, and hurried down the street. “Fire and bandits—and I let that poor girl go over there with those men!” she gasped. “And what on earth is that woman doing at Casa Grande? It’s either a scandal or a romance, that’s a cinch!”
“What’s the matter? Whose horse was that? Great snakes, Mrs. Van, what the devil——” Johnson, hastily and scantily attired, came down the street, followed by the others. Cochise had waked up the camp. Mrs. Van looked at them tragically.
“It’s the Casa Grande Chinaman come over to see Jimmy. He rode Cochise,” she sobbed.
“What’d he ride Cochise for? What’s come over Marc Scott, lendin’ Cochise to a Chink?”
“Tom, something awful has happened,” and she burst into the story.
“Didn’t the heathen go back to help?”