This offer not only caught the popular fancy north of the Rio Grande, but it likewise had an effect on the other side of the river, for on the very next day General Luis Longorio set out for Romero to investigate personally the rancher’s disappearance.

Now, throughout all this public clamor, truth, as usual, lay hidden at the bottom of its well, and few even of Ricardo’s closest friends suspected the real reason for his murder.

Jonesville, of course, could think or talk of little else than this outrage, and Blaze Jones, as befitted its leading citizen, was loudest in his criticism of the government’s weak-kneed policy.

“It makes me right sore to think I’m an American,” he confided to Dave.  “Why, if Ricardo had been an Englishman the British consul at Mexico City would have called on Potosi the minute the news came.  He’d have stuck a six-shooter under the President’s nose and made him locate Don Ricardo, or pay an indemnity and kiss the Union Jack.”  Blaze’s conception of diplomacy was peculiar.  “If Potosi didn’t talk straight that British consul would have bent a gun-bar’l over the old ruffian’s bean and telephoned for a couple hundred battle-ships.  England protects her sons.  But we Americans are cussed with notions of brotherly love and universal peace.  Bah!  We’re bound to have war, Dave, some day or other.  Why not start it now?”

Dave nodded his agreement.  “Yes.  We’ll have to step in and take the country over, sooner or later.  But—­everybody has the wrong idea of this Guzman killing.  The Federal officers in Romero didn’t frame it up.”

“No?  Who did?”

“Tad Lewis.”

Jones started.  “What makes you think that?”

“Listen!  Tad was afraid to let Urbina come to trial—­you remember one of his men boasted that the case would never be heard?  Well, it won’t.  Ricardo’s dead and the other witness is gone.  Now draw your own conclusions.”

“Gone?  You mean the fellow who saw Urbina and Garza together?”

“Yes.  He has disappeared, too—­evidently frightened away.”

Jones was amazed.  “Say, Dave,” he cried, “that means your case has blown up, eh?”

“Absolutely.  Lewis has been selling ‘wet’ stock to the Federals, and he probably arranged with some of them to murder Ricardo.  At any rate, that’s my theory.”

Blaze cursed eloquently.  “I’d like to hang it on to Tad; I’d sure clean house down his way if I was positive.”

“I sent a man over to Romero,” Dave explained further.  “He tells me Ricardo is dead, all right; but nobody knows how he died, or why.  There’s a new grave in the little cemetery above the town, but nobody knows who’s buried in it.  There hasn’t been a death in Romero lately.”  The speaker watched his friend closely.  “Ricardo’s family would like to have his body, and I’d like to see it myself.  Wouldn’t you?  We could tell just what happened to him.  If he really faced a firing-squad, for instance—­I reckon Washington would have something to say, eh?”