Belding looked at whatever it was he held in his hand, shook his burley head, and started swiftly for the house.  He came striding into the room holding a piece of soiled paper.

“Can’t read it and don’t know as I want to,” he said, savagely.

“Beldin’, shore we’d better read it,” replied Ladd.  “What we want is a line on them Greasers.  Whether they’re Campo’s men or Salazar’s, or just a wanderin’ bunch of rebels—­or Rojas’s bandits.  Sabe, senor?”

Not one of the men was able to translate the garbled scrawl.

“Shore Mercedes can read it,” said Ladd.

Thorne opened a door and called her.  She came into the room followed by Nell and Mrs. Belding.  Evidently all three divined a critical situation.

“My dear, we want you to read what’s written on this paper,” said Thorne, as he led her to the table.  “It was sent in by rebels, and—­and we fear contains bad news for us.”

Mercedes gave the writing one swift glance, then fainted in Thorne’s arms.  He carried her to a couch, and with Nell and Mrs. Belding began to work over her.

Belding looked at his rangers.  It was characteristic of the man that, now when catastrophe appeared inevitable, all the gloom and care and angry agitation passed from him.

“Laddy, it’s Rojas all right.  How many men has he out there?”

“Mebbe twenty.  Not more.”

“We can lick twice that many Greasers.”

“Shore.”

Jim Lash removed his pipe long enough to speak.

“I reckon.  But it ain’t sense to start a fight when mebbe we can avoid it.”

“What’s your idea?”

“Let’s stave the Greaser off till dark.  Then Laddy an’ me an’ Thorne will take Mercedes an’ hit the trail for Yuma.”

“Camino del Diablo!  That awful trail with a woman!  Jim, do you forget how many hundreds of men have perished on the Devil’s Road?”

“I reckon I ain’t forgettin’ nothin’,” replied Jim.  “The waterholes are full now.  There’s grass, an’ we can do the job in six days.”

“It’s three hundred miles to Yuma.”

“Beldin’, Jim’s idea hits me pretty reasonable,” interposed Ladd.  “Lord knows that’s about the only chance we’ve got except fightin’.”

“But suppose we do stave Rojas off, and you get safely away with Mercedes.  Isn’t Rojas going to find it out quick?  Then what’ll he try to do to us who’re left here?”

“I reckon he’d find out by daylight,” replied Jim.  “But, Tom, he ain’t agoin’ to start a scrap then.  He’d want time an’ hosses an’ men to chase us out on the trail.  You see, I’m figgerin’ on the crazy Greaser wantin’ the girl.  I reckon he’ll try to clean up here to get her.  But he’s too smart to fight you for nothin’.  Rojas may be nutty about women, but he’s afraid of the U. S. Take my word for it he’d discover the trail in the mornin’ an’ light out on it.  I reckon with ten hours’ start we could travel comfortable.”