rst
served her brother, then her father, and after the imprisonment of
General Rojas, had volunteered to follow the women of the family into
exile. For a moment the girl regarded him earnestly.

"Pedro," she asked, "what would you do to save the master?"

When the man was assured he had understood her he lowered the saddle
to the ground, and standing erect threw out his arms with his open
palms toward her. In pantomime he seemed to signify that for the
purpose she named, his body, his life was at her disposition.

Inez showed him the note.

"You will take this," she said, "to an American, Mr. Forrester. He is
at one of the hotels. No one must know you are seeking him, no one
must see you give him this note. Not even my mother must suspect that
any message has been sent from this house to that gentleman. When he
has read the note he will say 'yes' or 'no.' If he asks questions you
will shake your head. As soon as you get your answer come directly to
me."

She gave him the note and after an impressive delay continued: "There
is a new plan to save my father. If you deliver this note safely you
will have taken the first step to set him free. If you blunder, if it
is found out that Mr. Forrester and one of the Rojas family are
conspiring together, it will mean greater cruelties for my father; it
may mean his death."

The girl had spoken in the way she knew would best appeal to the man
before her. And she was not disappointed. His eyes shone with
excitement. That he was conspiring, that he was a factor in a plot,
that the plot had in view the end he so much desired, filled him with
pleasure and pride. Crossing himself he promised to carry out her
orders.

As Inez returned to the main portion of the house the sun was just
sinking into the sea; and, to keep their daily tryst, her mother and
sister were moving toward the cliff. While the crimson disk descended,
the three women stood silent and immovable, the face of each turned
toward the rim of the horizon. As though her eyes could pierce the
sixty miles that lay between her and her father Inez leaned forward,
her fingers interlaced, her lips slightly apart. That, at that moment,
he was thinking of her, that he was looking to where he knew she was
on guard, and thinking of him, moved her as greatly as though the
daily ceremony was for the first time being carried forward. A
wandering breeze, not born of the sea, but of the soil, of tropical
plants and forests, and war