Blaze was very grave when next he spoke. "Dave, this is bad—bad. I can't understand what made her go. Why, she must have been out of her head. But we've got to do something. We've got to burn the wires to Washington—yes, and to Mexico City. We must get the government to send soldiers after her. God! What have we got 'em for, anyhow?"
"Washington won't do anything. What can be done when there are thousands of American women in the same danger? What steps can the government take, with the fleet on its way to Vera Cruz, with the army mobilizing, and with diplomatic relations suspended? Those Greasers are filling their jails with our people—rounding 'em up for the day of the big break—and the State Department knows it. No, Longorio saw it all coming—he's no fool. He's got her; she's in there—trapped."
Blaze took the speaker by the shoulder and faced him about. "Look here," said he, "I'm beginnin' to get wise to you. I believe you're—the man in the case." When Dave nodded, he vented his amazement in a long whistle. After a moment he asked, "Well, why did you want me to come here alone, ahead of the others?"
"Because I want you to know the whole inside of this thing so that you can get busy when I'm gone; because I want to borrow what money you have—"
"What you aimin' to pull off?" Blaze inquired, suspiciously.
"I'm going to find her and bring her out."
"You? Why, Dave, you can't get through. This is a job for the soldiers."
But Dave hardly seemed to hear him. "You must start things moving at once," he said, urgently. "Spread the news, get the story into the papers, notify the authorities. Get every influence at work, from here to headquarters; get your Senator and the Governor of the state at work. Ellsworth will help you. And now give me your last dollar."
Blaze emptied his pockets, shaking his shaggy head the while. "La Feria is a hundred and fifty miles in," he remonstrated.
"By rail from Pueblo, yes. But it's barely a hundred, straight from here."