So after the "chores" had been attended to about the Spur Creek fort (and there were not many duties), it became a matter of waiting. Spur Creek made a bend at this part of Mr. Merkel's holdings, and the fort was situated on what was a sort of triangular peninsula, with the stream flowing on two sides of it. In this way it was what, during the World War, was called a "spearhead" into the country to the south, and it was from this country that the Mexican, Greaser or other sheep herders might be expected to invade the range long held sacred to horses and cattle. But this land, by government proclamation, was now thrown open to all comers. Because of the peculiar formation of the land it lent itself readily to defense, and also gave a good post for observation. The "fort" had been hastily built on the extreme point, as near the creek as was practical. Back, on either side, extended the banks of the stream, and when breakfast had been served Old Billee, who was in command, selected those who were to patrol the banks on each side of the cabin, for a distance several miles back along the edges of the "spearhead." The morning passed. The first contingent of scouts had come in to eat and another body was about to go out to relieve them when Bud, who had gone down to the edge of the creek, to clean a particularly muddy pair of shoes, looked across the stream, and uttered a cry of alarm. Riding up from the southland, Mexico if I may so call it (though the actual country of the Montezumas was distant many miles), was a lone horseman. He was coming along, "sweating leather," and was seen by others of the Diamond X forces almost as soon as observed by Bud. "Some one's coming!" yelled Bud, and he stood up on the edge of Spur Creek looking at the approaching horseman until Yellin' Kid shouted: "Better duck back here, boy. No telling when he may unlimber a gun!" It was good advice and Bud took it, to the extent of getting back nearer the cabin fort. On came the rider, seemingly fearless, until he pulled rein on the other side of the stream and sat there on the back of his panting horse, a most picturesque figure. "Mex from hat to stirrups," murmured Snake Purdee. "An' wicked from outside to inside," added Yellin' Kid in a lower voice than usual. The Mexican rider, for such he seemed to be, raised one hand, smiled to show two rows of very white teeth in the expanse of a very dark face, took off his broad-brimmed and high crowned hat and said: "_Parlez, senors?_" It was in the form of a question, and as such Old Billee answered it. "Talk?" grunted the veteran cow puncher. "What about?" "The land," replied the stranger, with another smile evidently intended to be engaging, but which seemed rather mocking. "I come to ask why you are here in such force, evidently to stop any who might wish to cross to feed their stock on open range?"