"Mostly. Then, too, I believed Panchito Madero was honest and
would give the peons land. An honest Mexican is worth fightin'
for, anywhere. The pelados are still struggling for their land--
for that and a chance to live and work and be happy."

Mrs. Austin stirred impatiently. "They are fighting because they
are told to fight. There is no PATRIOTISM in them," said she.

"I think," he said, with grave deliberateness, "the majority feel
something big and vague and powerful stirring inside them. They
don't know exactly what it is, perhaps, but it is there. Mexico
has outgrown her dictators. They have been overthrown by the same
causes that brought on the French Revolution."

"The French Revolution!" Alaire leaned forward, eying the speaker
with startled intensity. "You don't talk like a--like an enlisted
man. What do you know about the French Revolution?"

Reaching for a coal, the Ranger spoke without facing her. "I've
read a good bit, ma'am, and I'm a noble listener. I remember good,
too. Why, I had a picture of the Bastille once." He pronounced it
"Bastilly," and his hearer settled back. "That was some calaboose,
now, wasn't it?" A moment later he inquired, ingenuously, "I don't
suppose you ever saw that Bastille, did you?"

"No. Only the place where it stood."

"Sho! You must have traveled right smart for such a young lady."
He beamed amiably upon her.