When they told him, he expostulated with tears in his eyes.  He had been nursing since yesterday a secret hope that the blue-eyed one would teach him that wonderful trick of making a riata climb upward of its own accord as if it were a live thing.  Beyond that he was genuinely distressed to see them go, and even threatened to go with them before he yielded finally to the inevitable—­remembering Felice, perhaps, and the emptiness of life without her.

“Senor, should you chance to see that great hombre who whipped Manuel so completely, you would do well to give the warning.  Me, I heard from Ronaldo last night that Manuel spoke many threats against that gringo who had beaten him.  Carlos also—­and I think they mean ill towards the Senor Seem’son.  Me, I thought to ride that way to-morrow and give the word of warning.”

“We’re going there now,” said Jack, with some difficulty holding the yellow horse quiet, while he shook hands with Valencia.  “Adios, Valencia.  If you ever come near our mine, remember that what we have will be yours also.”

“Gracias, gracias—­adios—­” He stood staring regretfully after them when they started erratically down the slope; erratically, because Solano preferred going backward or sidewise, or straight up and down, to going forward.  They were not two hundred yards away from the stable when Valencia overtook them, having saddled in haste that he might ride with them for a way.

“That caballo, he needs two to show him the way, Senors,” grinned Valencia, to explain his coming.  “Me, I shall help to get him started, and we will say adios farther up the valley, unless the senors desire to ride to Senor Seem’son’s cabin.”

“That’s where we’re headed for, believe it or not!” laughed Jack, who at that moment was going round and round in a circle.  “When he gets so dizzy he can’t tell up from down, maybe he’ll do as I say about going straight ahead.”

Eventually Solano did decide to move forward; and he did so at such a pace that speedily they reached Jerry’s claim and galloped furiously up the slope to the cabin.

“Must be asleep,” Dade remarked carelessly, when they faced a quiet, straight-hanging bullock hide.

But when a loud hallo brought no sign, even from Tige, he jumped off and went to investigate the silence.

“There ain’t a single soul here,” he announced, “and that’s funny, too.  They always leave Tige to watch the place, you know—­or they did before I went on rodeo.”

“They do yet,” said Jack.  “Only Mrs. Jerry never goes anywhere.  She stays at home to watch their garden.  That’s it, over there; her ’truck patch,’ she calls it.”

“Things are all upset here.  Get off, Jack, and let’s see what’s up.  I don’t like the looks of things, myself.”  Dade’s face was growing sober.

Valencia, on the ground, was helping Jack with Solano.  But he turned suddenly and cast an uneasy glance towards the quiet log hut.