"I have talked it over
with Grayson and he assures me that an attempt at intervention
upon our part might tend to antagonize Villa, in which
case we are all as good as lost. He is none too fond of us as it
is, and Grayson believes, and not without reason, that he
would welcome the slightest pretext for withdrawing the
protection of his favor. Instantly he did that we should become
the prey of every marauding band that infests the mountains.
Not only would Pesita swoop down upon us, but those
companies of freebooters which acknowledge nominal loyalty
to Villa would be about our ears in no time. No, dear, we
may do nothing. The young man has made his bed, and now
I am afraid that he will have to lie in it alone."
For awhile the girl sat in silence, and presently her father
arose and entered the house. Shortly after she followed him,
reappearing soon in riding togs and walking rapidly to the
corrals. Here she found an American cowboy busily engaged
in whittling a stick as he sat upon an upturned cracker box
and shot accurate streams of tobacco juice at a couple of
industrious tumble bugs that had had the great impudence to
roll their little ball of provender within the whittler's range.
"O Eddie!" she cried.
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