and command in her eyes. "Why do you say this to me, senor? And why do
you think it?"

Kit was astonished at the effect of his words, and quite as much
astonished to hear anyone of the Perez household refer to Rotil as
"the Deliverer."

"Senora, if you saw him ride side by side with Rotil, drinking from
the same cup in the desert, would you not also think it?"

Tula rose to her feet, and moved closer to Kit.

"I too was seeing them together, senora," she said. "It was at the
Yaqui well; I drew the water, and they drank it. This man of the loud
curses is the man."

Dona Jocasta covered her eyes with her hand, and she seemed shaken. No
one else spoke, and the silence was only broken by the muffled tones
of Marto in the cell, and the brief bark of Clodomiro's dog at the
corral.

"God knows what may be moving forward," she said at last, "but there
is some terrible thing afoot. Take me to this man."

"It may not be a pleasant thing to do," advised Kit. "This is a man's
game, senora, and his words might offend, for his rage is very great
against you."

"Words!" she said with a note of disdain, and arose to her feet. She
swayed slightly, and Valencia steadied her, and begged her to wait
until morning, for her strength was gone and the night was late.

"Peace, woman! Who of us is sure of a morning? This minute is all the
time that is ours, and--I must know."

She leaned on Valencia as they crossed the patio, and Tula moved a
seat outside the door of Marto's room. Kit fastened a torch in the
holder of the brick pillar and opened the door without being seen, and
stood watching the prisoner.

Marto Cavayso, who had been pleading with Isidro, whirled only to find
the barrel of another gun thrust through the carved grill in the top
of the door.

"Isidro," said Kit, "this man is to answer questions of the senora. If
he is uncivil you can singe him with a bullet at your own will."

"Many thanks, senor," returned Isidro promptly. "That is a pleasant
work to think of, for the talk of this shameless gentleman is poison
to the air."

"You!" burst out Marto, pointing a hand at Jocasta in the corridor.
"You put witchcraft of hell on me, and wall me in here with an old
lunatic for guard, and now----"

Bing! A bullet from Isidro's rifle whistled past Marto's ear and
buried itself in the adobe, scattering plaster and causing the
prisoner to crouch back in the corner.

Jocasta regarded him as if waiting further speech, but