e lifted the latch of the guest room
where she had seen what looked to her like wealth of towels,--and felt
sure Dona Jocasta would not miss one of the plainest.

Stealthy as a cat she circled the bed, scarce daring to glance at it
lest the lady wake and look reproach on her.

But she stepped on some hard substance on the rug by the wooden bench
where the towels hung, and stooping, she picked it up, a little wooden
crucifix, once broken, and then banded with silver to hold it solid.
The silver was beautifully wrought and very delicate, surely the
possession of a lady, and not a thing let fall by chance from the
pocket of Valencia.

Tula turned to lay it carefully on the pillow beside the senora, and
then stared at the vacant bed.

Only an instant she halted and thrust her hand under the cover.

"Cold,--long time cold!" she muttered, and with towel and crucifix she
sped back to the _sala_ where Rotil was joking concerning the
compliment she paid him.

"Don't make dandies of yourselves if you would make good with a
woman," he said. "Even that little crane of a _muchacha_ has
brain,--and maybe heart for a man! She has boy sense."

Kit, seeing her dart into the guest room, stood in his tracks watching
for her to emerge. She gave him one searching curious look as she sped
past, and he realized in a flash that his glance should have been
elsewhere, or at least more casual.

She delivered the towel and retired, abashed and silent at the jests
of the man she regarded with awe as the god-sent deliverer of her
people. Once in the corridor she looked into Valencia's room, then in
the kitchen where Valencia and Maria and other women were hastening
breakfast, and last she sought Clodomiro at the corral.

"Where did you take her, and how?" she demanded, and the youth, tired
with the endless rides and tasks of two days and nights, was surly,
and looked his impatience. "She, and she, and she! Always women!" he
grumbled. "Have I not herded all of them from over the mesa at your
order? Is one making a slow trail, and must I go herding again?"

She did not answer, but looked past him at the horses.

"Which did the senora ride from Soledad?" she inquired, and Clodomiro
pointed out a mare of shining black, and also a dark bay ridden by
Marto.

"Trust him to take the best of the saddle herd," he remarked. "Why
have you come about it? Is the senora wanting that black?"

"Maybe so; I was not told," she answered evasively. "But