"I knew you would. All we need is a pair of Mexicans to—do the work. I liked Ricardo; I owe him something."
"Suppose we're caught?"
"In that case we'll have to run for it, and—I presume I'll be discharged from the Ranger service."
"I ain't very good at runnin'—not from Mexicans." Blaze's eyes were bright and hard at the thought. "It's more'n possible that, if they discover us, we can start a nice little war of our own."
That evening Dave managed to get his Ranger captain by long-distance telephone, and for some time the two talked guardedly. When Dave rang off they had come to a thorough understanding.
It had been an easy matter for José Sanchez to secure a leave of absence from Las Palmas, especially since Benito was not a little interested in the unexplained disappearance of Panfilo and work was light at this time. Benito did not think it necessary to mention the horse-breaker's journey to his employer; so that Alaire knew nothing whatever about the matter until José himself asked permission to see her on a matter of importance.
The man had ridden hard most of the previous night, and his excitement was patent. Even before he spoke Alaire realized that Panfilo's fate was known to him, and she decided swiftly that there must be no further concealment.
"Señora! A terrible thing!" José burst forth. "God knows, I am nearly mad with grief. It is about my sainted cousin. It is strange, unbelievable! My head whirls—"
Alaire quieted him, saying in Spanish, "Calm yourself, José, and tell me everything from the beginning."
"But how can I be calm? Oh, what a crime! What a misfortune! Well, then, Panfilo is completely dead. I rode to that tanque where you saw him last, and what do you think? But—you know?"