k, a
plate, a corkscrew; every article was in its own paper, some were
marked in pencil what they were. All were spread out upon a
horse-blanket; in good enough order for a field-inspection. Nothing
was wanting, and Esteban was as keen as a wolf. Even Manvers rubbed
his hands. He looked shrewdly at his neighbour.

"Good _alforjas_, eh?"

"Excellent indeed, sir," said Esteban hoarsely. It was hard to see
this food, and know that he could not eat of it. Manuela was sitting
under a tree, her face in her hands.

"How far away," said Manvers, "is the water, do you suppose?"

The water? Esteban collected himself with a start. The water? He
jerked his head towards the display on the blanket. "It is under your
hand, caballero. That bottle, I take it, holds water."

Manvers laughed. "Yes, yes. I mean the river. I am going to swim in
the river. Don't wait for me." He turned to the girl. "Take some
food, my friend. I'll be back before long."

Her swift transitions bewildered him. She showed him now a face of
extreme terror. She was on her feet in a moment, rigid, and her eyes
were so pale that her face looked empty of eyes, like a mask. What on
earth was the matter with her? He understood her to be saying, "I must
go where you go. I must never leave you----" words like that; but they
came from her mouthed rather than voiced, as the babbling of a mad
woman. All that was clear was that she was beside herself with fright.
Looking to Esteban for an explanation, he surprised a triumphant gleam
in that youth's light eyes, and saw him grinning--as a dog grins, with
the lip curled back.

But Esteban spoke. "I think the lady is right, sir. Affection is a
beautiful thing." He added politely, "The loss will be mine."

Manvers looked from one to the other of these curious persons, so
clearly conscious of each other, yet so strict to avoid recognition.
His eyes rested on Manuela. "What's the matter, my child?" She met
his glance furtively, as if afraid that he was angry; plainly she was
ashamed of her panic. Her eyes were now collected, her brow cleared,
and the tension of her arms relaxed.

"Nothing is the matter," she said in a low voice. "I will stay here."
She was shaking still; she held herself with both her hands, and shook
the more.

"I think that you are knocked over by the heat and all the rest of your
troubles," said Manvers, "and I don't wonder. Repose yourself
here--eat--drink. Don't sp