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If he crosses the border where he can fight it won't take long fer him to get plugged. I guess I'm gettin' old. I don't stand things like I used to." "Bill, I reckon I'd better hit the Peloncillo trail. Mebbe I can find Danny." "I reckon you had, Nels," replied Stillwell. "But don't take more 'n a couple of days. We can't do much on the round-up without you. I'm short of boys."
"Senor Gene they Don Carlos vaqueros they quarrel over me. I only dance a leetle, smile a leetle, and they quarrel. I beg they be good watch out for Sheriff Hawe... and now Sheriff Hawe put me in jail. I so frighten; he try make leetle love to Bonita once, and now he hate me like he hate Senor Gene." "Pat Hawe won't put you in jail. Take my horse and hit the Peloncillo trail.
Madeline swept her gaze along the gray, sloping horizon-line to where dark-blue spires rose far beyond the ridge. "Peloncillo Mountains," said Stillwell. "Thet's home, when we get there. We won't see no more of them till afternoon, when they rise up sudden-like." Peloncillo! Madeline murmured the melodious name. Where had she heard it? Then she remembered.
There we met foresters from the Peloncillo forest reserve. If these fellows knew anything they kept it to themselves. So we hit the trail home." "Wal, I reckon you know enough?" inquired Stillwell, slowly. "I reckon," replied Stewart. "Wal, out with it, then," said Stillwell, gruffly. "Miss Hammond can't be kept in the dark much longer. Make your report to her."
"Them tracks make straight fer the Peloncillo trail." "Shore," replied Nels. "Wal?" went on Stillwell, impatiently. "I reckon you know what hoss made the other tracks?" "I'm thinkin' hard, but I ain't sure." "It was Danny Mains's bronc." "How do you know thet?" demanded Stillwell, sharply. "Bill, the left front foot of thet little hoss always wears a shoe thet sets crooked.
The cowboy Stewart had told the little Mexican girl Bonita to "hit the Peloncillo trail." Probably the girl had ridden the big, dark horse over this very road at night, alone. Madeline had a little shiver that was not occasioned by the cold wind. "There's a jack!" cried Florence, suddenly. Madeline saw her first jack-rabbit. It was as large as a dog, and its ears were enormous.
In two days he returned, depressed in spirit. Madeline happened to be present when Stillwell talked to Alfred. "I got there too late, Al," said the cattleman. "Gene was gone. An' what do you think of this? Danny Mains hed jest left with a couple of burros packed. I couldn't find what way he went, but I'm bettin' he hit the Peloncillo trail." "Danny will show up some day," replied Alfred.
Any of the boys can tell you. I'd know thet track if I was blind." Stillwell's ruddy face clouded and he kicked at a cactus plant. "Was Danny comin' or goin'?" he asked. "I reckon he was hittin' across country fer the Peloncillo trail. But I ain't shore of thet without back-trailin' him a ways. I was jest waitin' fer you to come up."
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