ace to face with
Captain Forest.

The little cry of surprise that escaped her interrupted the Captain's
meditations who, with eyes cast on the ground, might otherwise have
walked straight into her.

"A thousand pardons, Senorita!" he exclaimed in Spanish, stopping
abruptly and raising his hat.

"I--" He paused as her full gaze met his which to his surprise was
almost on a level with his own. What a face! Could his sensations have
been analyzed, they might have coincided with those of Padre Antonio's
on beholding his protegee when she stepped from the stagecoach on her
return from the convent.

The broad sweep of her brow, her penetrating gaze, her straight nose,
high cheek bones and delicately molded lips and chin and grace of her
supple, sinuous body, together with the picturesqueness of her costume,
presented a picture of striking beauty.

"Why," he continued abruptly, "you are the woman that danced at Carlos
Moreno's! The Senorita Chiquita about whom the whole town is talking!"

"Ah! you saw me dance, Senor?" she asked, betraying a slight
embarrassment.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world! Such a performance--I--" again
he paused, regarding her intently. "Do you know, Senorita, all the while
I watched you dance there seemed to be something familiar about you. It
seemed as though I had seen you somewhere before."

"Yes?" she queried, her dark eyes glowing and a faint flush mounting to
her cheeks.

"Yes," he answered. "Ever since then I have been trying to think where
it could have been. Ah!" he exclaimed, stepping backwards and eyeing her
critically. "Just turn your head that way again. There, that's it! I
knew I had seen you before! Do you remember the night we met a year ago
on the trail below La Jara?"

A smile parted her full rose-red lips, displaying her pearly teeth. "I
remember it well, Senor," she answered, casting down her eyes for an
instant. "I recognized you the instant I saw you."

"Strange," he muttered half to himself. Then, after a rather
embarrassing silence, he said: "That was a fine horse you rode. Do you
live here at the _Posada_, Senorita?"

"No. I live with Padre Antonio."

"Padre Antonio? Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, recalling the conversation at
Pedro Romero's gambling hall. "Tell me," he continued, "who is Padre
Antonio?"

"Ah! I see you have not been long in Santa Fe, Senor, else you must have
heard something about him. Everybody knows Padre Antonio--he is our
priest."