Madeline saw the man she remembered, but with a singularly different aspect.  His skin was brown; his eyes were piercing and dark and steady; he carried himself erect; he seemed preoccupied, and there was not a trace of embarrassment in his manner.

“Wal, Gene, I’m sure glad to see you,” Stillwell was saying.  “Where do you hail from?”

“Guadaloupe Canyon,” replied the cowboy.

Stillwell whistled.

“Way down there!  You don’t mean you follered them hoss tracks thet far?”

“All the way from Don Carlos’s rancho across the Mexican line.  I took Nick Steele with me.  Nick is the best tracker in the outfit.  This trail we were on led along the foothill valleys.  First we thought whoever made it was hunting for water.  But they passed two ranches without watering.  At Seaton’s Wash they dug for water.  Here they met a pack-train of burros that came down the mountain trail.  The burros were heavily loaded.  Horse and burro tracks struck south from Seaton’s to the old California emigrant road.  We followed the trail through Guadelope Canyon and across the border.  On the way back we stopped at Slaughter’s ranch, where the United States cavalry are camping.  There we met foresters from the Peloncillo forest reserve.  If these fellows knew anything they kept it to themselves.  So we hit the trail home.”

“Wal, I reckon you know enough?” inquired Stillwell, slowly.

“I reckon,” replied Stewart.

“Wal, out with it, then,” said Stillwell, gruffly.  “Miss Hammond can’t be kept in the dark much longer.  Make your report to her.”

The cowboy shifted his dark gaze to Madeline.  He was cool and slow.

“We’re losing a few cattle on the open range.  Night-drives by the vaqueros.  Some of these cattle are driven across the valley, others up to the foothills.  So far as I can find out no cattle are being driven south.  So this raiding is a blind to fool the cowboys.  Don Carlos is a Mexican rebel.  He located his rancho here a few years ago and pretended to raise cattle.  All that time he has been smuggling arms and ammunition across the border.  He was for Madero against Diaz.  Now he is against Madero because he and all the rebels think Madero failed to keep his promises.  There will be another revolution.  And all the arms go from the States across the border.  Those burros I told about were packed with contraband goods.”

“That’s a matter for the United States cavalry.  They are patrolling the border,” said Alfred.

“They can’t stop the smuggling of arms, not down in that wild corner,” replied Stewart.

“What is my—­my duty?  What has it to do with me?” inquired Madeline, somewhat perturbed.

“Wal, Miss Majesty, I reckon it hasn’t nothing to do with you,” put in Stillwell.  “Thet’s my bizness an’ Stewart’s.  But I jest wanted you to know.  There might be some trouble follerin’ my orders.”