A young Mexican jumped out almost before it stopped, and began talking to Webb. Elaine promptly ran down the steps and tried to get what he was talking about. Her Spanish ran about twenty or thirty words, and the very much excited young Mexican was going up around three hundred a minute. Elaine got: “_Los Rangeros--mucho malo batalla--_” and then was entirely lost trying to follow. Finally, she got: “_El Rangero Earp y el Rangero Yancey, muy malos hombres--_” “Jack,” she said, seizing Webb’s arm, “what is it? Tell me!” “What? Where the--go away, woman.” “I wont. You tell me.” “All right, if you want to know, I’ll tell you. Garcia’s gang came across the line to get some rangers that mopped up on some of them a little while ago. This bird says they found the rangers, and there is one bearcat fight going on down near the old Three C ranch. He’s a friendly Mex and has come in to get help. He says that some Earp and Yancey are holding the fort, but they wont last long. He also says that they are very bad men in a battle. Now, you know, go on away. I’m going to phone to Bill Carter to get his doughboys over there _pronto_.” “What Yancey?” asked Elaine directly of the Mexican. “_El Senor Budero Yancey y--_” He stopped as Elaine whirled around and ran to the house. “Can cars make it up to this Three C ranch?” Webb asked. “But no, senor,” answered the Mexican, getting a strangle-hold on what English he had. “These bridge at the _valle es debajo del agua--mucho agua_.” “Holy cats--under water! How close can they get?” “_Dos milas._ These Garcia--he ’ave _muchisimo hombres_ weeth--” “Yeah? I’ll get very much men on his tail too, darn’ quick.” * * * * * Webb put down the telephone receiver after having been profanely ordered away from it by Captain William Carter, commanding fifty-odd hardboiled infantrymen who were literally spoiling for want of a fight--Carter’s last words being: “Get away from that phone and give me a chance. Don’t you call up anyone else, either, or I’ll bust you wide open.” “Oh, my sainted aunt!” Webb said as he started away from the telephone. “Every darn’ bus out jazzing around, and me with a busted arm! By gosh, I’ll go with those-- Where do you think you’re going?”--to Elaine, who had returned, dressed in flying overalls. “That Martin bomber is on the line, and I’m--” “What? That old crate? She’s out of commission--and even if she weren’t, you couldn’t fly her.” “Major Carnduff said I could fly any bus on this station,” protested Elaine, “and I’m going to. I can fly as well as you can, and--” “Better,” agreed Webb, “much better. Only you’re not going to, because there is no bus to fly, ding it all. If there were, I’d fly it myself. The oil-line is out of that baby, and--There goes Bill Carter and his gang! Holy smackers, Bill’s copped the old man’s pet car and loaded it to the guard-rails. I’m going with the next load, no foolin’. You stay here, Lainy.”