witness to a shocking tragedy, that she herself might even become a
victim. But the road lay empty, in the hedges of spiked cactus not a
frond stirred; and the aged man who had led him to the rendezvous sat
motionless, watchful but undisturbed.

[Illustration: Shifting the reins to his left hand, Roddy let the
other fall upon his revolver.]

Roddy again turned to the girl and found her closely observing him.
He sank back in his saddle and took off his hat. Still scanning the
hedges, he pushed his pony beside hers and spoke quickly.

"Pardon me," he said, "but I think you had better ride on. Some men
are coming here. They--they may be here now."

That his anxiety was entirely on her account was obvious. The girl
colored slightly, and smiled. As she smiled, Roddy for the first time
was looking directly at her, and as he looked his interest in
assassins and his anxiety as to what they might do passed entirely
from him. For months he had not seen a girl of his own people, and
that this girl was one of his own people he did not question. Had he
first seen her on her way to mass, with a lace shawl across her
shoulders, with a high comb and mantilla, he would have declared her
to be Spanish, and of the highest type of Spanish beauty. Now, in her
linen riding-skirt and mannish coat and stock, with her hair drawn
back under a broad-brimmed hat of black straw, she reminded him only
of certain girls with whom he had cantered along the Ocean Drive at
Newport or under the pines of Aiken. How a young woman so habited had
come to lose herself in a lonely road in Curacao was incomprehensible.
Still, it was not for him to object. That the gods had found fit to
send her there was, to Roddy, sufficient in itself, and he was
extremely grateful. But that fact was too apparent. Though he was
unconscious of it, the pleasure in his eyes was evident. He still was
too startled to conceal his admiration.

The girl frowned, her slight, boyish figure grew more erect.

"My name is Rojas," she said. "My father is General Rojas. I was told
you wished to help him, and last night I sent you a note asking you to
meet me here."

She spoke in even, matter-of-fact tones. As she spoke she regarded
Roddy steadily. When, the night before, Inez had sent the note, she
had been able only to guess as to what manner of man it might be with
whom she was making a rendezvous at daybreak, in a lonely road. And
she had been more than anxious. Now that she saw