“I’m afraid for her, Rod.  I’m afraid!  I have seen her and Jim Galloway together, I have known all along that he had an influence over her which he might exert if he wanted to.  And, just before Jim Galloway went to Mexico, Elmer saw them walk down the street together, stop and talk together under the trees. . . .  Oh, I’m afraid for her, Rod!”

Engle’s face was as white as chalk when a little later he came back into the room with his wife; his two hands were like rock upon his rifle.

“Florence isn’t in the house,” he announced in a voice which, while calm, seemed not John Engle’s voice.  “If she is in San Juan it won’t take the half-hour to know it.  I’m rather inclined to think that I’m just a fool, Rod Norton.  My wife has told me that Galloway was looking at Florence in a way which meant no good.  I wouldn’t believe.  And now, if . . .”

Norton had no reply to make.  Florence’s disappearance at a time like this might mean either a very great deal or nothing whatever.  But, as Engle had intimated, it would require but little time to learn if she were in San Juan and safe, and, as Norton had said, there was no time now to be wasted.  Engle would institute inquiries immediately; Norton, his own work looming large before him, would prepare to meet Galloway’s latest play.

The sheriff decided promptly that it would be unwise to leave the town absolutely drained of men in whom he could put faith.  It was always possible that either the entire crowd of Galloway’s men or a smaller detachment might find their way here.  Julius Struve, four armed men aiding him, was to be responsible for the welfare of women and children.  If Galloway’s stroke should turn out to be bolder and harder than was now known, then Struve and his men had horses saddled and were to get their wards out of danger by hard riding.  Norton was to post two men a few miles out as he rode north and they were to report back to Struve in case of necessity.

These latter plans were made only at the moment before the sheriff’s departure.  A man sent by Brocky Lane had raced into San Juan’s street, bringing fresh word.  It began to appear that Galloway was working in conjunction with aid from below the border.  Del Rio with a score of men, Mexicans for the most part who had dribbled into the county during the last few months, was reported to have swept down upon John Engle’s ranches, and to be gathering herds of cattle and horses, starting them southward on the run.  Three of Engle’s cowboys had been shot down; a similar attack had been delivered upon other ranches.  The little town of Las Vegas had been looted, post-office, store, and saloon safes dynamited, stock driven off to augment del Rio’s other herds.  Further, the cowboy sent by Lane reported that a signal-fire had been lighted in the mountains an hour ago and that there had been another fire like an answer leaping up from the desert in the south.  Word had also come to Lane that telephone messages hinted that Kid Rickard and his unit were working further outlawry along the county line, headed toward Mt.  Temple.