"No, they ain't killed, but one of 'em's likely to lose a leg. He knifed one, but the knife was dull and he ain't hurt much. But that ain't what I come over here about." And Tom went on with Li Yow's story of the Casa Grande raid, the arrival of Scott, Hard and Polly, and the fire. "I dunno and he dunno who done the burnin' or what else has happened over there, but he says they heard Pachuca say somethin' about meeting Angel Gonzales, and I guess you know who he is. I thought mebbe you could let me have a car and a posse and I could go over and see what's been done." The Colonel and his secretary conversed together for a few moments, Tom listening anxiously but quite unable to get the thread of the talk. "You see, Colonel," he continued, anxiously, "I dunno if this little revolution of yours is going to turn out the real thing or not; but there's one thing you can be darn sure of if it does, and that is that one of the first letters your new president's going to get in his official mail is going to be a bill of damages from Washington and whatever's happened to our folks is going to be wrote down in it." Colonel d'Anguerra smiled patiently. "I will tell you, senor, what I know about the affair at Casa Grande. According to this dispatch, a regiment of Sonora troops passed by the ranch on their way south. They saw flames and heard shots. A band of Yaquis who had been driven from their village by one Angel Gonzales were burning and looting. The troops' orders were for haste and they did not stop to find out the extent of the damage but called off the Yaquis. You perhaps know that those Indians are excellent soldiers and that there are many of them in our army." "You mean to say they didn't go over to see if anything had happened to the women folks?" demanded Tom, aghast. "Their orders were positive. They could not take the time. To-day we have news that some of our troops have crossed the Sinaloa border. These men who passed Casa Grande were on their way to Hermosillo to guard the capital." "Well, it does look like you were pulling it off, don't it?" Tom's voice was admiring in spite of himself. "What beats me, senor, is how you manage to pump enough enthusiasm into these fellers to keep them fighting. You've been at it nearly ten years now. In my country we'd either have put it through by that time or given it up as a bad job and pretended we'd never wanted it anyhow." The Mexican laughed. "My friend," he said, seriously, "people will fight for more than ten years with the hope of liberty and a good government ahead of them. This time we hope to get both." "Well, I hope you do. It's too good a country to go to the dogs. But about this Juan Pachuca----"