“What are you aimin’ at?” Blaze inquired.

“If we had Ricardo’s body on this side it would put an end to all the lies, and perhaps force Colonel Blanco to make known the real facts.  It might even mean a case against Tad Lewis.  What do you think of my reasoning?”

“It’s eighteen karat.  What d’you say we go over there and get Ricardo?”

Dave smiled.  “That’s what I’ve been leading up to.  Will you take a chance?”

“Hell, yes!”

“I knew you would.  All we need is a pair of Mexicans to—­do the work.  I liked Ricardo; I owe him something.”

“Suppose we’re caught?”

“In that case we’ll have to run for it, and—­I presume I’ll be discharged from the Ranger service.”

“I ain’t very good at runnin’—­not from Mexicans.”  Blaze’s eyes were bright and hard at the thought.  “It’s more’n possible that, if they discover us, we can start a nice little war of our own.”

That evening Dave managed to get his Ranger captain by long-distance telephone, and for some time the two talked guardedly.  When Dave rang off they had come to a thorough understanding.

It had been an easy matter for Jose Sanchez to secure a leave of absence from Las Palmas, especially since Benito was not a little interested in the unexplained disappearance of Panfilo and work was light at this time.  Benito did not think it necessary to mention the horse-breaker’s journey to his employer; so that Alaire knew nothing whatever about the matter until Jose himself asked permission to see her on a matter of importance.

The man had ridden hard most of the previous night, and his excitement was patent.  Even before he spoke Alaire realized that Panfilo’s fate was known to him, and she decided swiftly that there must be no further concealment.

“Senora!  A terrible thing!” Jose burst forth.  “God knows, I am nearly mad with grief.  It is about my sainted cousin.  It is strange, unbelievable!  My head whirls—­”

Alaire quieted him, saying in Spanish, “Calm yourself, Jose, and tell me everything from the beginning.”

“But how can I be calm?  Oh, what a crime!  What a misfortune!  Well, then, Panfilo is completely dead.  I rode to that tanque where you saw him last, and what do you think?  But—­you know?”

Alaire nodded.  “I—­suspected.”

Jose’s dark face blazed; he bent forward eagerly.  “What did you suspect, and why?  Tell me all.  There is something black and hellish here, and I must know about it quickly.”

“Suppose you tell me your story first,” Alaire answered, “and remember that you are excited.”

The Mexican lowered his voice.  “Bueno!  Forgive me if I seem half crazed.  Well, I rode to that water-hole and found—­nothing.  It is a lonely place; only the brush cattle use it; but I said to myself, ’Panfilo drank here.  He was here.  Beyond there is nothing.  So I will begin.’  God was my helper, senora.  I found him—­his bones as naked and clean as pebbles.  Caramba!  You should have heard me then!  I was like a demon!  I couldn’t think, I couldn’t reason.  I rode from that accursed spot as if Panfilo’s ghost pursued me and—­I am here.  I shall rouse the country; the people shall demand the blood of my cousin’s assassin.  It is the crime of a century.”