awl, her hand went out gropingly to him to
lead her.

As they did not pass the door of the _sala_, no notice was given them
by Rotil's guard. Mexican women were ever at early prayers, or at the
_metate_ grinding meal for breakfast, and that last possibility was
ever welcome to men on a trail.

In the kitchen Kit Rhodes was seeking information concerning Clodomiro
from Tula, asking if it was true he would fetch the women of Palomitas
to petition Rotil.

"Maybe so," she conceded, "but that work is not for a mind of a white
man. Thus I am not telling you Clodomiro is the one to go; his father
was what you call a priest,--but not of the church," she said hastily,
"no, of other things."

Looking at her elfin young face in the flickering light of the hearth
fire, he had a realization of vast vistas of "other things" leading
backward in her inherited tendencies, the things known by his young
comrade but not for the mind of a white man,--not even for the man
whom Miguel had trusted with the secret of El Alisal. Gold might
occasionally belong to a very sacred shrine, but even sacred gold was
not held so close in sanctuary as certain ceremonies dear to the
Indian thought. Without further words Kit Rhodes knew that there were
locked chambers in the brain of his young partner, and to no white man
would be granted the key.

"Well, since he has gone for them, there is nothing to say, though the
general may be ill pleased at visitors," hazarded Kit. "Also you and I
know why we should keep all the good will coming our way, and risk
none of it on experiments. Go you back to your rest since there is not
anything to be done. Clodomiro is at Palomitas by now, and you may as
well sleep while the dawn is coming."

She took the strip of roasted meat he offered her, and went back to
her blanket on the tiles at the door of the now empty room.

CHAPTER XV

THE "JUDAS" PRAYER AT MESA BLANCA

Isidro was right when he said Ramon Rotil slept but little, for the
very edge of the dawn was scarce showing in the east when he opened
his eyes, moved his wounded leg stiffly, and then lay there peering
between half-shut eyelids at the first tint of yellow in the sky.

"Chappo," he said curtly, "look beyond through that window. Is it a
band of horses coming down the mesa trail, or is it men?"

"Neither, my General, it is the women who are left of the rancherias
of Palomitas. They come to do a prayer service at an old altar here.
Once M