But instead of keeping on the trail, after she had gone about five miles, she turned sharply to the left. As she did, she said to the wheel: “I’ll bet anything I can get right around in back of the Three C. That’s the old ranch I saw the other day, and--” The trail she had turned on began to narrow and twist, and Elaine wisely decided to put her attention on her driving. About half an hour later, she said aloud: “That darn’ road I came down ought to be around here somewhere. I know I passed that big rock right after-- There it is!” * * * * * The trail leading off to the left could hardly be called a trail, let alone a “road,” as Elaine named it. It was hardly wide enough for a car, even where it tied in with the one she was on. Now there was a lot of fallen timber and rocks in it. “My heavens,” she said, standing up and looking it over, “I’ll bet that cloudburst has ruined it. I can’t drive over that! I guess I’ll have to go back. Well, I wont, and that’s that. This road leads up in the hills right back of the Three C, and I’m going to find out if--” The last was said as she was getting out, and the wheel,--not deigning to get into an argument with a red-headed young lady,--keeping quiet, Elaine started up the trail on foot. It was much farther than she thought, and after a steady climb for more than an hour, without sighting the hill she was sure topped the old ranch buildings, she decided to sit down and rest. * * * * * Just then the sound of shots came down the trail to her; then a moment later, the patter of running feet. The trail, a little above where she was sitting, took a curve around a big boulder, and then another around an outstanding ledge. Without a second’s hesitation Elaine rolled off the rock she was sitting on and burrowed into the tangled windfall behind it. In doing it, she proved that she was, as Ma Earp had said, “a right smart girl” and worthy of the border, where the old rule still holds good in spots: “If it’s strange, it’s hostile.” When she stopped, she was under cover, and by pulling a couple of the branches over a little, could still see up the trail. As she did, there were three more shots, and she heard someone wail, “_Madre de Dios! Soy muerto!_” Then, rounding the curve and running as fast as they could, falling over rocks and windfalls, scrambling up, came four of Garcia’s band, who had tried to ambush some Texas rangers. Their gay serapes were torn and muddy, their heads bare, their mouths open and their faces expressing their one thought, which was to get as far away as possible from whatever was behind them. They came by Elaine’s hole-up so fast they did not even look in her direction. “My goodness gracious,” she gasped, “they must be--the boys must have ar-- Oh! It’s--it’s Bud!” and she pushed her way out.