g, and
Valencia went forward, while Isidro held high a blazing torch, and
Clodomiro dismounted quickly, and offered help to the woman.

"My grandmother has all for your comfort, senora," he said, "will it
please you to descend?"

The man swung from the saddle, awkwardly nursing his right arm.

"Yes this is a safe place, Dona Jocasta," he declared. "It is all well
arranged. With your permission I may assist you."

He offered his left hand, but she looked from him to Valencia, and
then to Clodomiro.

"You are young to be a stealer of women;--the saints send you a whiter
road!" she said. "And you may help me, for my shoulder has a hurt from
that first shot of the comrade of this man."

"No, senora," stated her captor, "the evil shot came from no comrade
of mine. They did not follow us, those bandits--accursed be their
names! They were hid in the canoncita and jumped our trail. But have
no fear, Dona Jocasta, they are left behind, and it will be my
pleasure to nurse the wounds they have made."

"Be occupied with your own," she suggested pointing to his hand from
which blood still dripped, "and you, mother, can show me the new
prison. It can be no worse than the others."

"Better, much better, little dove," said Marto, who followed after
the two women, and glanced over their shoulders into the guest chamber
of the iron bars, "it is a bird cage of the finest, and a nest for
harmonies."

Then to Valencia he turned with authority, "When you have made the
senorita comfortable, bring the key of the door to me."

"_Si_, senor," said Valencia bending low, and even as the prisoner
entered the room, she changed the key to the outside of the door.
Marto nodded his approval and turned away.

"Now this shirt off, and a basin of water and a bandage," he ordered
Isidro. "It is not much, and it still bleeds."

"True, it does, senor, and the room ordered for you has already the
water and a clean shirt on the pillow. Clodomiro, go you for a
bandage, and fetch wine to take dust out of the throat! This way,
senor,--and may you be at home in your own house!"

Unsuspecting, the amorous Marto followed the old man into the room
prepared. He grunted contemptuous satisfaction at evidences of comfort
extending to lace curtains hanging white and full over the one
window.

"It is the time for a shirt of such cleanness," he observed, with a
grin. "_Jesusita!_ but the sleeve sticks to me! Cut it off, and be
quick to make me over into a