Valencia was having the great adventure of her life in her journey to Soledad, and she chattered to Tula as a maiden going to a marriage.

Three people ill.u.s.trious in her small world were at once to be centered on the stage of war before her eyes. She told Tula it was a thing to make songs of,--the two men and the most beautiful woman!

When they emerged from the canon into the wide spreading plain, with the sierras looming high and blue beyond, the eyes of Kit and Tula met, and then turned toward their own little camp in the lap of the mother range. All was flat blue against the sky there, and no indications of canon or gulch or pocket discernible. Even as they drew nearer to the hacienda, and Kit surrept.i.tiously used the precious field gla.s.ses, thus far concealed from all new friends of the desert, he found difficulty in locating their hill of the treasure, and realized that their fears of discovery in the little canon had been groundless. In the far-away time when the giant aliso had flourished there by the canon stream, its height might have served to mark the special ravine where it grew, but the lightning sent by pagan G.o.ds had annihilated that landmark forever, and there was no other.

The glint of tears shone in the eyes of Tula, and she rode with downcast eyes, crooning a vagrant Indian air in which there were bird calls, and a whimpering long-drawn tremulo of a baby coyote caught in a trap, a weird unG.o.dly improvisation to hear even with the shining sun warming the world.

Kit concluded she was sending her brand of harmony to Miguel and the ghosts on guard over the hidden trail.--And he rather wished she would stop it!

Even the chatter of Valencia grew silent under the spell of the girl's gruesome intonings,--ill music for her entrance to a new portal of adventure.

"It sounds of death," murmured Dona Jocasta, and made the sign of the cross. "The saints send that the soul to go next has made peace with G.o.d! See, senor, we are truly crossing a place of death as she sings.

That beautiful valley of the green border is the _sumidero_,--the quicksands from hidden springs somewhere above," and she pointed to the blue sierras. "I think that is the grave Jose meant for me at Soledad."

"Nice cheerful end of the trail--not!" gloomed Kit strictly to himself. "That little imp is whining of trouble like some be-deviled prophetess."

Afterwards he remembered that thought, and wished he could forget!

Blue shadows stretched eastward across the wide zacatan meadows, and the hacienda on the far mesa, with its white and cream adobe walls, shone opal-like in the lavender haze of the setting sun.

Kit Rhodes had timed the trip well and according to instruction of the general, but was a bit surprised to find that his little cavalcade was merely part of a more elaborate plan arranged for sunset at Soledad.

A double line of hors.e.m.e.n rode out from the hacienda to meet them, a rather formidable reception committee as they filed in soldier-like formation over the three miles of yellow and green of the spring growths, and halted where the glint of water shone in a dam filled from wells above.

Their officer saluted and rode forward, his hat in his hand as he bowed before Dona Jocasta.

"General Rotil presents to you his compliments, Senora Perez, and sends his guard as a mark of respect when you are pleased to ride once more across your own lands."

"My thanks are without words, senor. I appreciate the honor shown to me. My generalissimo will answer for me."

She indicated Kit with a wan smile, and her moment of hesitation over, his t.i.tle reminded him that no name but El Pajarito had been given him by his Indian friends. That, and the office of manager of Mesa Blanca, was all that served as his introduction to her, and to Rotil. With the old newspaper in his pocket indicating that Kit Rhodes was the only name connected with the murder at Granados, he concluded it was just as well.

The guard drew to either side, and the officer and Kit, with Dona Jocasta between them, rode between the two lines, followed by Tula and Valencia. Then the guard fell in back of them, leaving Clodomiro with the pack animals and the Indian boys to follow after in the dust.

Dona Jocasta was pale, and her eyes sought Kit's in troubled question, but she held her head very erect, and the shrouding lace veil hid all but her eyes from the strangers.

"Senor Pajarito," she murmured doubtfully. "The sun is still shining, and there are no chains on my wrists,--otherwise this guard gives much likeness to my first arrival at the hacienda of Soledad!"

"I have a strong belief that no harm is meant to you by the general commanding," he answered, "else I would have sought another trail, and these men look friendly."

"G.o.d send they be so!"

"They have all the earmarks,--and look!"

They were near enough the hacienda to see men emerge from the portal, and one who limped and leaned on a cane, moved ahead of the others and stood waiting.

"It is an honor that I may bid you welcome to your own estate, Dona Jocasta," he said grimly. "We have only fare of soldiers to offer you at first, but a few days and good couriers can remedy that."

"I beg that you accept my thanks, _Commandante_," she murmured lowly.

"The trail was not of my choosing, and it is an ill time for women to come journeying."

"The time is a good time," he said bluntly, "for there is a limit to my hours here. And in one of them I may do service for you."

His men stood at either side watching. There were wild tales told of Ramon Rotil and women who crossed or followed his trail, but here was the most beautiful of all women riding to his door and he gave her no smile,--merely motioned to the Americano that he a.s.sist her from the saddle.

"The supper is ready, and your woman and the priest will see that care is given for your comfort," he continued. "Afterwards, in the _sala_----"

She bent her head, and with Kit beside her pa.s.sed on to the inner portal. There a dark priest met her and reached out his hand.

"No welcome is due me, Padre Andreas," she said brokenly. "I turned coward and tried to save myself."

"Daughter," he returned with a wry smile at Kit, and a touch of cynic humor, "you had right in going. The lieutenant would have had no pleasure in adding me to his elopement, and, as we hear,--your stolen trail carried you to good friends."

Kit left them there and gave his attention to s.p.a.ce for the packs and outfit, but learned that the general had allotted to him the small corral used in happier days for the saddle horses of the family. There was a gate to it and a lock to the gate. Chappo had been given charge, and when all was safely bestowed, he gave the key to the American.

The brief twilight crept over the world, and candles were lit when Kit returned to the corridor. Rotil was seated, giving orders to men who rode in and dismounted, and others who came out from supper, mounted and rode away. It was the guard from a wide-flung arc bringing report of sentinels stationed at every pa.s.s and water hole.

Padre Andreas was there presenting some appeal, and to judge by his manner he was not hopeful of success. Yet spoke as a duty of his office and said so.

"What is your office to me?" asked Rotil coldly. "Do your duty and confess him when the time comes if that is his wish. It is more than he would have given to her or the foreman who stored the ammunition.

Him he had killed as the German had Miguel Herrara killed on the border,--and Herrara had been faithful to that gun running for months.

When man or woman is faithful to Jose Perez long enough to learn secrets, he rewards them with death. A dose of his own brew will be fit medicine."

"But the woman,--she is safe. She is----"

"Yes, very safe!" agreed Rotil, sneering. "Shall I tell you, pious Father, how safe she is? The cholo who took food to Perez and that German dog has brought me a message. See, it is on paper, and is clear for any to read. You--no not you, but Don Pajarito here shall read it.

He is a neutral, and not a padre scheming to save the soul of a man who never had a soul!"

Kit held it to the light, read it, and returned it to Rotil.

"I agree with you, General. He offers her to you in exchange for his own freedom."

"Yes, and to pay for that writing I had him chained where he could see her enter the plaza as a queen, if we had queens in Mexico! You had an unseen audience for your arrival. The guard reports that the German friend of Perez seems to love you, Don Pajarito, very much indeed."

"Sure he does. Here is the mark of one of his little love pats with a monkey wrench," and Kit parted his hair to show the scar of the Granados a.s.sault. "I got that for interfering when he was trying to kill his employer's herds with ground gla.s.s in their feed."

"So? no wonder if he goes in a rage to see you riding as a lady's caballero while he feels the weight of chains in a prison. This world is but a little place!"

"That is true," said Padre Andreas, "regarding Kit, for the story of the horses was told to me by Dona Jocasta here in Soledad!"

"How could that be?" demanded Rotil. "Is it not true you met the lady first at Mesa Blanca?"

"As you say," said Kit, alert at the note of suspicion, "if the lady knows aught of Granados, it is a mystery to me, and is of interest."

"Not so much a mystery," said the priest. "Conrad boasted much when gla.s.ses were emptied with Perez on the Hermosillo rancho, and Dona Jocasta heard. He told the number of cavalry horses killed by his men, also the owner of that ranch of Granados who had to be silenced for the cause."

"Thanks for those kind words, Padre," said Kit. "If Dona Jocasta has a clear memory of that boasting, she may save a life for me."

"So?" said Rotil speculatively. "We seem finding new trails at Soledad. Whose life?"