"And it was done without a fight?" asked Kit. "I have heard that the men picked for Soledad were not the gentlest band Senor Perez could gather."

"We had their number," said Rotil placidly. "Good men enough, but with their cartridges doctored what could they do? I sent in two machine guns, and they were not needed. A signal smoke went up to show me all was well, and in another minute I heard the horses of Marto and his girl. He must have started an hour before Perez arrived. It is a trick of Don Jose's that no one can count on his engagements, but this time every hill had its sentinels for his trail, not anything was left to chance."

"And your accident?" asked Kit politely.

"Oh, I was setting my own guards at every pa.s.s when the runaway woman and men caught my ear and we took a short cut down the little canon to head them off. I knew they would make for here, and that houses were not plenty--" he smiled as if well satisfied with the knowledge. "So, as this was a friendly house it would be a safe bet to keep on coming." He blew rings of smoke from the cigarette, and chuckled.

"The boys will think a quicksand has swallowed us, and no one will be sleeping there at Soledad."

"Is there anything I can do to be of service," asked Kit. "I have a good room and a bed----"

But the chuckling of Rotil broke into a frank laugh.

"No, senor!" he said with humorous decision, watching Kit as he spoke, "already I have been told of your great kindness in the giving of beds and rooms of comfort. Why, with a house big enough, you could jail all the district of Altar! Not my head for a noose!"

Kit laughed awkwardly at the jest which was based on fact, but he met the keen eyes of Rotil very squarely.

"The Indians no doubt told you the reason the jail was needed?" he said. "If a girl picks a man to take a trail with, that is her own affair and not mine, but if a girl with chains on her wrists has to watch men throwing dice for her, and is forced to go with the winner--well--the man who would not help set her free needs a dose of lead. That is our American way, and no doubt is yours, senor."

"Sure! Let a woman pick her own, if she can find him!" agreed Rotil, and then he grinned again as he looked at Kit. "And, senor, it is a safe bet that this time she'll find him!--you are a good big mark, not easily hidden."

The other men smiled and nodded at the humor of their chief, and regarded Kit with appreciative sympathy. It was most natural of course for them to suppose that if he took a woman from Marto, he meant to win her for himself.

Kit smiled back at them, and shook his head.

"No such luck for a poor vaquero," he confessed. "The lady is in mourning, and much grief. She is like some saint of sorrows in a priest's tale, and----"

"The priests are liars, and invented h.e.l.l," stated Rotil.

"That may be, but sometimes we see sad women of prayers who look like the saints the priests tell about,--and to have such women sold by a gambler is not good to hear of."

No one spoke for a little. The eyes of Rotil closed in a curious, contemptuous smile.

"You are young, boy," he said at last, "and even we who are not so young are often fooled by women. Trust any woman of the camp rather than the devout saints of the shrines. All are for market,--but you pay most for the saint, and sorrow longest for her. And you never forget that the shrine is empty!"

His tone was mocking and harsh, but Kit preferred to ignore the sudden change of manner for which there seemed no cause.

"Thanks for the warning, General, and no saints for me!" he said good naturedly. "Now, is there any practical thing I can do to add to your comfort here? Any plans for tomorrow?"

"A man of mine is already on the way to Soledad, and we will sleep before other plans are made. Not even Marto will I see tonight, knowing well that you have seen to his comfort!" and he chuckled again at the thought of Marto in his luxurious trap. "My lads will do guard duty in turn, and we sleep as we are."

"Then, if I can be of no service----"

"Tomorrow perhaps, not tonight, senor. Some sleep will do us no harm."

"Then good night, and good rest to you, General."

"Many thanks, and good night, Don Pajarito."

Kit laughed at that sally, and took himself out of the presence. It was plain that the Deliverer had obtained only the most favorable account of Kit as the friend of Whitely. And as an American lad who sang songs, and protected even women he did not know, he could not appear formidable to Rotil's band, and certainly not in need of watching.

He looked back at them as the general turned on his side to sleep, and one of his men blew out the two candles, and stationed themselves outside the door. As he noted the care they took in guarding him, and glanced at the heavy doors and barred windows, he had an uncomfortable thrill at the conviction that it would serve as a very efficient prison for himself if his new friends, the revolutionists, ever suspected he held the secret of the red gold of El Alisal. It was a bit curious that the famous lost mine of the old mission had never really been "lost" at all!

Isidro, looking very tired, had preceded him from the _sala_, as Kit supposed to go to bed. The day and night had been trying to the old man, and already it was the small hours of a new day.

There was a dim light in the room of Dona Jocasta, but no sound. Tula was curled up on a blanket outside her door like a young puppy on guard. He stooped and touched her shoulder.

"The senora?" he whispered.

"Asleep, after tears, and a sad heart!" she replied. "Valencia thanks the saints that at last she weeps,--the beautiful sad one!"

"That is well; go you also to sleep. Your friends keep guard tonight."

She made no reply, and he pa.s.sed on along the corridor to his own rooms. The door was open, and he was about to strike a light when a hand touched his arm. He drew back, reaching for his gun.

"What the devil----"

"Senor," whispered Isidro, "make no light, and make your words in whispers."

"All right. What's on your mind?"

"The senora and the Deliverer. Know you not, senor, that she is sick with shame? It is so. No man has told him who the woman is he calls yours. All are afraid, senor. It is said that once Ramon Rotil was content to be a simple man with a wife of his own choosing, but luck was not his. It was the daughter of a priest in the hills, and Jose Perez took her!"

"Ah-h!" breathed Kit. "If it should be this one----"

"It is so,--she went like a dead woman at his voice, but he does not know. How should he, when Don Jose has women beyond count? Senor, my Valencia promised Dona Jocasta you would save her from meeting the general. That promise was better than a sleeping drink of herbs to her. Now that the promise is made, how will you make it good?"

"Holy smoke--also incense--also the pipe!" muttered Kit in the dark.

"If I live to get out of this muddle I'll swear off all entangling alliances forevermore! Come into the kitchen where we can have a fire's light. I can't think in this blackness."

They made their way to the kitchen, and started a blaze with mesquite bark. The old Indian cut off some strips of burro _jerke_ and threw them on the coals.

"That is better, it's an occupation anyway," conceded Kit chewing with much relish. "Now, Isidro, man, you must go on. You know the land best. How is one to hide a woman of beauty from desert men?"

"She may have a plan," suggested Isidro.

"Where is Clodomiro?" asked Kit, suddenly recalling that the boy had disappeared. The old man did not answer; he was very busy with the fire, and when the question was repeated he shook his head.

"I do not know who went. If Tula did not go, then Clodomiro was the one. They were talking about it."

"Talking,--about what?"

"About the German. He is caught at Soledad, and must not be let go, or let die. All the Indians of Palomitas will be asking the Deliverer for that man."

"Isidro, what is it they want to do with him?" asked Kit, and the old Indian ceased fussing around with a stick in the ashes, and looked up, sinister and reproving.

"That, senor, is a question a man does not ask. If my woman tells me the women want a man for Judas, I--get that man! I ask nothing."