uttering, as he did so: "I will
permit no one to come between us. ... The thought kills me. ... You
bring me bad news, Jose, and yet I am glad you came. I accept your
offer, and you shall be my man henceforth; ... but you shall not go out
to be shot by those rebels. No, you shall return to Las Palmas to be my
eyes and my ears, and, when the time comes, you shall be my hands, too.
... I will avenge your cousin Panfilo for you, my word on that. Yes,
and I will make you a rich man."

Jose listened hungrily to these promises. He was relieved at the change
in his plans, for, after all, a soldier's life offered few attractions,
and--the food at Las Palmas was good. The general promised him fine
wages, too. Truly, it was fortunate that he had come to Romero.

"Now we have settled this," Jose's new employer declared, "run away and
amuse yourself until dark. Then we will take a little journey by way of
the old ferry."

"It is not altogether safe," ventured Jose. "That country over there is
alive with refugees."

"I will take some men with me," said Longorio. "Now go and let me
think."

XVIII

ED AUSTIN TURNS AT BAY

Had it not been for her fears, Paloma Jones would have taken her visit
to the Austin ranch as an unmixed enjoyment. To her Alaire had always
been an ideally romantic figure. More than once, in her moments of
melancholy, Paloma had envied Mrs. Austin's unhappiness and yearned to
bear a similar sorrow--to be crossed in love and to become known as a
woman of tragedy. To have one's life blasted, one's happiness slain by
some faithless lover, impressed the girl as interesting, thrilling.
Moreover, it was a misfortune calculated to develop one's highest
spiritual nature. Surely nothing could be more sadly satisfying than to
live alone with regretful memories and to have the privilege of
regarding the world as a vain show. Unfortunately, however, Paloma was
too healthy and too practical to remain long occupied with such
thoughts. She was disgustingly optimistic and merry; misanthropy was
entirely lacking in her make-up; and none of her admirers seemed the
least bit inclined to faithlessness. On the contrary, the men she knew
were perfect nuisances in their earnestness of purpose, and she could
not manage to fall in love with any one sufficiently depraved to
promise her the slightest misery. Paloma felt that she was hopelessly
commonplace.

Now that she had an opportunity of becoming better acquainted with