“Mother Daniels”--things were serious when Raquel spoke so--“I don’t believe we could ship more than eight hundred lean, very lean, feeders, off this range if we tried. So I have a plan. Tell you when I get back.” And she flung off to Red Dog in the car. “Here comes that Daniels gal,” drawled Red Dog, lounging in his doorway. “I see her in town t’other day.” He bit off a chew of tobacco and looked in at “A. B.,” who leaned against the bar. “A. B.” apparently did not hear. “She seemed to have a lot o’ business in the bank, depositin’ her profits and the like.” Red Dog thoroughly enjoyed making this communication and was no whit disconcerted that it was received in silence. “I hear she’s going across the border after stock next....” Still no effect. “You-all don’t seem to have such a lot of business over towards La Bolsa these days as a while back. Ain’t you on good terms with Esquibal no more? I thought he was stockin’--I mean runnin’--La Bolsa.” A steely gaze bore into Red Dog’s eyes. “Some folks don’t know when to mind their own business,” remarked “A. B.” with dangerous softness. “Can’t seem to sense when talkin’ ain’t healthy.--But as long as you’re so conversational today you might just add what cattle the Daniels gal aims to buy.” “Oh, as to that I don’t know nothin’ for sure,” replied Red Dog unperturbed. “All I know is I heard old Don Justino Chaves say that she was the only person could afford to bring over a bunch o’ cattle from Sonora that his _primo’s_ holdin’ down there.” “That so?” replied the cowman. “_Is_ that so?” “Now what in th’ name o’ the Gila monster did I go and tell him that for?” regretted Red Dog as he watched “A. B.” swing into his car and move off towards town without so much as a backward glance. “I’ll get myself into trouble yet braggin’ about that little gal.” Down in town the boss of the Lazy L was just making a request that left the good Mr. Putney aghast. “But five thousand in currency, my dear child! Money is meant to be kept in _banks_! Why endanger yourself by taking that much cash with you?” Raquel waved aside his qualms with such effect that within fifteen minutes she strode out the door of the main bank of La Cruz with the amount she wanted in bills and gold, stowed away in a money belt about her slender waist. Nothing but cash talked in Mexico, she had always heard Dad say. And so it came about that Raquel, with Georgie as first aid, made ready to set out for the Mexican border on a shimmering, blinding, July day. They would ride into town. From there they would ship their horses to the border, riding in the box cars with them, for Raquel had determined to take the pinto with her. There might be a lot of riding, she explained. But the truth was she didn’t want Paintbrush to be separated from her, to forget her and all she had taught him.