“He has been kind to us.”

“Bah!  He has a motive.  Do you notice the way he looks at you?  It is enough to damn him for all eternity.”

Upon her arrival at the hotel Alaire received an agreeable surprise, for as her vehicle paused, at the curb David Law stepped forward, hat in hand.

“What bloodthirsty business brings you to Pueblo?” she queried, when they had exchanged greetings.

Law smiled at her.  “I came to offer free board and lodging to a poor Greaser.  But he ain’t here.  And you, ma’am?”

Alaire briefly outlined the reasons that had taken her to La Feria and the duties that had kept her busy since her return, while Dave nodded his understanding.  When, however, he learned that she was counting upon General Luis Longorio’s aid in securing justice, his expression altered.  He regarded her with some curiosity as he inquired: 

“Isn’t Longorio the very man who robbed you?”

“Yes.”

“And now he offers to square himself?”

“Precisely.  You don’t seem to put much faith in him.”

“Mexicans are peculiar people,” Law said, slowly.  “At least we consider them peculiar—­probably because they are different to us.  Anyhow, we don’t understand their business methods or their habits of mind; even their laughter and their tears are different to ours, but—­from my experience with them I wouldn’t put much confidence in this Longorio’s word.  I say this, and I’m supposed to have a little Mexican blood in me.”

During this brief conversation they had entered the hotel, and now the lobby idlers took quick cognizance of Mrs. Austin’s presence.  The lanky, booted Ranger excited no comment, for men of his type were common here; but Alaire was the heroine of many stories and the object of a wide-spread curiosity; therefore she received open stares and heard low whisperings.  Naturally resenting this attention, she gave her hand to Law more quickly than she would have done otherwise.

“I hope we shall see each other again,” she murmured.

“That’s more’n likely; I’m located in your neighborhood now,” he informed her.  “I’m leaving for Jonesville in the morning.”

“By train?”

“No’m.  I’m goin’ to follow the river road if I can get an automobile.”

Mindful of the Ranger’s courtesy to her on their previous meeting, Alaire said:  “Won’t you go with us?  We intend to start early.”

“I’d love to, ma’am—­but I’ll have to make a few inquiries along the line.”

“Good!  It is a large car and”—­she smiled at him—­“if we have tire trouble I may need your help.  Jose, my man, is a splendid horse-breaker, but he seems to think a tire tool is some sort of a fancy branding-iron.  His mechanical knowledge is limited to a bridle-bit and a cinch, and I’m almost certain he believes there is something ungodly about horseless wagons.”