g her pony, and making a bridge of his
hands lifted her to the saddle. "If I am right about this," he said,
"I must see you again to-day. Where can I meet you?"

In spite of her eagerness, the girl hesitated. One by one the
traditions of a lifetime were smashing about her.

"I _must_ tell my mother," she pleaded. "And I know she will not allow
me----"

"And she'll tell Pino," interrupted Roddy. To detain her, he laid his
hand upon the reins and shook them sharply.

"Are you helping Pino to win a revolution," he demanded, "or are you
helping me to get your father out of prison?"

Inez gazed at him in dismay. In her brief twenty-two years no man had
spoken to her in such a manner. Among her friends she knew of no
Venezuelan who, no matter what the provocation, would have addressed
his wife, his sister, his daughter in a tone so discourteous. And yet
this stranger was treating her, who, as she had been frequently and
reliably informed, was the loveliest and most lovable of her sex, as
he might a mutinous younger brother. In spite of the new and serious
thought that now occupied her mind, this one was also sufficiently
novel to compel her attention. It both amused and fascinated her. Here
was at last one man who was working to help her father, and not only
in order to find favor in her bright eyes. He needed her wits and her
courage; he wanted her help, but he wanted it as from a comrade, as he
would have asked it of another man. Unconsciously he was paying her
the compliment that best pleased her. When she nodded in assent she
laughed delightedly, partly at him for bullying, partly at herself
that she should for a moment have resented it.

"I am helping _you_!" she said.

Not understanding why she laughed, Roddy regarded her doubtfully.

Imitating the directness of his manner, Inez spoke quickly. "You can
keep the pony. It is new to our stable and not known to belong to us.
To-morrow morning, before sunrise, ride out again, but this time take
the road to Otrabanda and along the cliff. Be sure to pass our house
before sunrise. Ride about a mile and turn down a bridle-path to your
left. That will bring you to the beach. If I cannot go, Pedro will
meet you. You will get the history my father wrote at Belancourts, in
Willemstad." For a moment she regarded him with friendly eyes. "If
you should be right," she exclaimed, "how can I ever thank you?"

Roddy smiled back at her and shook his head.

"I don't know that we