ight laughter. But the city might have been a living tomb. The
white rayless houses were heavy and silent as sepulchers. He rode
slowly down Alvarado Street, and saw the advancing glow of a cigar.
When the cigar was abreast of him he recognized Mr. Larkin.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Small-pox," replied the consul, succinctly. "Better get on board
at once. And steer clear of the lower quarter. Your vaquero
arrived yesterday, and I instructed him to put your baggage in the
custom-house. He dropped it and fled to the country."

Estenega thanked him and proceeded on his way. He made a circuit to
avoid the lower quarter, but saw that it was not abandoned; lights
moved here and there. "Poor creatures!" he thought, "they are probably
dying like poisoned rats."

On the side of the hill by the road was a solitary hut. He was obliged
to pass it. A candle burned beyond the open window, and he set his
lips and turned his head; not from fear of contagion, however. And his
eyes were drawn to the window in spite of his resolute will. He looked
once, and looked again, then checked his horse. On the bed lay a
girl in the middle stages of the disease, her eyes glittering with
delirium, her black hair matted and wet. She was evidently alone.
Estenega spurred his horse and galloped around to the back of the hut.
In the kitchen, the only other room, huddled an old crone, brown and
gnarled like an old apple. She was sleeping; by her side was a bottle
of aguardiente. Estenega called loudly to her.

"Susana!"

The creature stirred, but did not open her eyes. He called twice
again, and awakened her. She stared through the open door, her lower
jaw falling, showing the yellow stumps.

"Who is?"

"Is Anita alone with you?"

"Ay, yi! Don Diego! Yes, yes. All run from the house like rats from
a ship that burns. Ay, yi! Ay, yi! and she so pretty before! A-y,
y-i!--" Her head fell forward; she relapsed into stupor.

Estenega rode around to the window again. The girl was sitting on the
edge of the bed, mechanically pulling the long matted strands of her
hair.

"Water! water!" she cried, faintly. "Ay, Mary!" She strove to rise,
but fell back, clutching at the bedclothing.

Estenega rode to a deserted hut near by, concealed his saddle in
a corner under a heap of rubbish, and turned his horse loose. He
returned to the hut where the sick girl lay, and entered the room. She
recognized him in spite of her fever.

"Don Diego! Is it y