hat it was
best to quietly await further developments. She would keep an eye on
Freeman as well as on Miriam; something, too, might be gathered from Don
Miguel; and then there was that talk about a treasure. Was that all the
fabric of a dream, or was there truth at the bottom of it? She had
heard something said about a treasure in the course of the general
conversation the day before. If there really was a treasure, why might
not she have a hand in the discovery of it? Miriam, in her abnormal
state, had let fall some topographical hints that might prove useful.
Well, she would work out the problem, sooner or later. To-morrow,
when the others had gone off on their expedition, she would have
ample leisure to sound Don Miguel, and, if he proved communicative and
available, who could tell what might happen? But how very odd it all
was! Who was Semitzin?

While asking herself this question, Grace fell asleep; and by the
time the summons to breakfast came, she had passed through thrilling
adventures enough to occupy a new Scheherazade at least three years in
the telling of them.

CHAPTER VI.

By nine o'clock in the morning, Professor Meschines and Harvey Freeman
had ridden up to the general's ranch, equipped for the expedition. The
general's preparations were not yet quite completed. A couple of mules
were being loaded with the necessary outfit. It was proposed to be
out two days, camping in the open during the intervening night. It
was necessary to take water as well as solid provisions. Leaving their
horses in the care of a couple of stable-boys, Meschines and Freeman
mounted the veranda, and were there greeted by General Trednoke.

"I'm afraid we'll have a hot ride of it," he observed. "The atmosphere
is rather oppressive. Kamaiakan tells me there was a touch of earthquake
last night."

"I thought I noticed some disturbance,----" returned the professor,
with a stealthy side-glance at Freeman,--"something in the nature of an
explosion."

"Earthquakes are common in this region, aren't they?" Freeman said.

"They have made it what it is, and may unmake it again," replied the
general. "The earthquake is the father of the desert, as the Indians
say; and it may some day become the father of a more genial offspring.
Veremos!"

"How are the young ladies?" inquired Freeman.

"Miriam has a little headache, I believe; and I thought Miss Parsloe was
looking a trifle pale this morning. But you must see for yourself. Her