t 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 passed 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, I