“Quite a great deal,” he answered slowly.
“To-day, from the roof of our ranch-house, we heard the sound of firing!” broke in Tom.
“I am not surprised,” said Captain Braddock. “Reports to the effect that the Mexicans were fighting close to the river reached us. The Federals are now in possession of the opposite town, but I understand that an army of Constitutionalists is encamped not twenty miles away.”
“Gracious!” murmured Cranny.
“What an unfortunate state of affairs!” put in Dave. “If the warring factions could only get together and put as much energy in developing the wonderful resources of their country as they do in fighting, how much more sensible it would be!”
The Tacoma lad scarcely heard this observation. To one of his reckless, adventurous temperament, the thought of actually visiting a town where such stirring events were possible held an irresistible attraction for him. He made up his mind to run over to the other side of the Rio before very long—even if he had to make the trip alone.
The sound of their voices presently brought several of the Rangers, Carl Alvin among them, from an adjoining room.
The members of the force did not have the spick and span appearance of the scarlet-coated Royal Northwest Mounted Police of Canada, among whom the Ramblers had spent some time the summer before. A certain bearing, however, gained through years of hard service, was sufficiently authoritative without additional embellishments.
“Hello, fellows! Mighty glad to see you,” hailed Carl Alvin. He turned to the others. “These are the chaps I told you about.”
Thereupon he introduced the crowd to big Tom Raulings, Oscar Chaney and Jack Stovall.