die of thirst, some Greaser would knife you in the back for you belt buckle or boots.  There are a good many Americans with the rebels eastward toward Agua, Prieta and Juarez.  Orozco is operating in Chihuahua, and I guess he has some idea of warfare.  But this is Sonora, a mountainous desert, the home of the slave and the Yaqui.  There’s unorganized revolt everywhere.  The American miners and ranchers, those who could get away, have fled across into the States, leaving property.  Those who couldn’t or wouldn’t come must fight for their lives, are fighting now.”

“That’s bad,” said Gale.  “It’s news to me.  Why doesn’t the government take action, do something?”

“Afraid of international complications.  Don’t want to offend the Maderists, or be criticized by jealous foreign nations.  It’s a delicate situation, Dick.  The Washington officials know the gravity of it, you can bet.  But the United States in general is in the dark, and the army—­well, you ought to hear the inside talk back at San Antonio.  We’re patrolling the boundary line.  We’re making a grand bluff.  I could tell you of a dozen instances where cavalry should have pursued raiders on the other side of the line.  But we won’t do it.  The officers are a grouchy lot these days.  You see, of course, what significance would attach to United States cavalry going into Mexican territory.  There would simply be hell.  My own colonel is the sorest man on the job.  We’re all sore.  It’s like sitting on a powder magazine.  We can’t keep the rebels and raiders from crossing the line.  Yet we don’t fight.  My commission expires soon.  I’ll be discharged in three months.  You can bet I’m glad for more reasons than I’ve mentioned.”

Thorne was evidently laboring under strong, suppressed excitement.  His face showed pale under the tan, and his eyes gleamed with a dark fire.  Occasionally his delight at meeting, talking with Gale, dominated the other emotions, but not for long.  He had seated himself at a table near one of the doorlike windows leading into the street, and every little while he would glance sharply out.  Also he kept consulting his watch.

These details gradually grew upon Gale as Thorne talked.

“George, it strikes me that you’re upset,” said Dick, presently.  “I seem to remember you as a cool-headed fellow whom nothing could disturb.  Has the army changed you?”

Thorne laughed.  It was a laugh with a strange, high note.  It was reckless—­it hinted of exaltation.  He rose abruptly; he gave the waiter money to go for drinks; he looked into the saloon, and then into the street.  On this side of the house there was a porch opening on a plaza with trees and shrubbery and branches.  Thorne peered out one window, then another.  His actions were rapid.  Returning to the table, he put his hands upon it and leaned over to look closely into Gale’s face.

“I’m away from camp without leave,” he said.