They all listened tensely. In the distance they could hear a low rumble. "Thunder," Nort said. "First night storm we've had in a long while." "Where's that Mexican?" inquired Hawkins again. "Bring him here, Kid." Yellin' Kid led the cook to where Hawkins was intently watching the road. The agent turned to the Mexican and stared hard at him. "You know Jose Salvo?" he asked suddenly. The Mexican nodded vigorously. Then he pointed to himself and held up two fingers. "His brother? Well, what do you know about that!" plainly the secret service agent was surprised. "No wonder you look like him! Bud, you remember that Mexican we saw in the restaurant the first day you hit town? The one I told you to watch out for? Well, this bird is his brother!" "I thought it was the same one, when we first saw him! His brother, eh? And what's he doin' at this ranch?" The Mexican apparently heard the question, and endeavored to answer it. In the gloom they could see his arms and hands motioning forcibly, but none of them were able to understand the message. "Better wait," suggested Billee Dobb. "The poor critter is almost scared out of his wits. He may have a bad brother, but I think he's O. K. himself. I'll watch him for you. Over here, Mex!" he ordered sharply. The cook walked slowly over to Billee, and squatted down beside him. He looked up at the old rancher as a calf might look for protection to a cow. "I'll depend on you to see that he doesn't pull any funny work," Hawkins said to Billee. "When the show starts we'll have our hands full, and we don't want any slip-ups." Yet they could not afford to give up now. If things worked out as the agent had hoped, they might succeed in arresting Delton and his gang. "And that reward will come in right handy," Billee Dobb said. "Will we really get a reward if we capture these smugglers?" Nort asked Hawkins. "You certainly will! And the government will be glad to pay it, too." "I don't care so much about the reward as I do about getting Delton," declared Bud, as he remembered how he was mistreated at the hands of the smuggler. "An' I'd like to get my bronc back," Yellin' Kid asserted, as he moved his arms briskly about to warm himself. The night wore on, minutes seeming like hours. Billee Dobb stood motionless, leaning against the side of the ranch house, and at his feet sat the Mexican, seemingly oblivious of the cold. Hawkins moved slowly about, glancing every now and then down the road. The others stood about, talking in low tones. The storm seemed to have been blown aside, as the rumble of thunder no longer reached the ears of the waiting men. Still the moon was covered with clouds, making the night almost pitch-black. A soft glow from the low-turned lamp within the ranch house was the only illumination. "Say, I'm goin' to take a walk around to the corral," exclaimed the Kid suddenly. "This waitin' is gettin' me woozy. Just want to see if the ponies are all right."