ing mystery of that
last hour before dawn.

"Senor!" called a low cautious voice.

Rezanov stepped hastily back from the point of the bluff and glanced
about in wonder, his pulses suddenly astir. But he could see no one.

This time the direction was unmistakable, and he went to the edge of
the plateau facing the south and looked over. Halfway down a shallow
and almost perpendicular gully, he saw a girl forcing a mustang up the
harsh, loose path. The girl's white and oval face looked from the
folds of a black reboso like the moon emerging from clouds, and its
young beauty was out of place in that wild and forbidding setting. She
reined in her horse as she caught his eye and beckoned superfluously;
then guided her mustang to a little ledge where he could plant his feet
firmly, permitting her to reassume her usual pride of carriage and
averting the danger of a sudden scramble or need of assistance.

As Rezanov reached her side, she gave him a grave and friendly smile,
but no opportunity to kiss her hand.

"I have followed your excellency," she said. "I saw you leave the
Juno, and as I am often up at this hour, and as no one else ever is, my
father ignores the fact that I sometimes ride alone. I have never come
as far as this before, but there is something I wish to say to you, and
there is no opportunity at home. I asked Santiago to find me one last
night, but he was in a bad temper and would not. Men! However--I
suppose you have heard nothing of the cargo?"

"I have not," said Rezanov grimly, although acutely sensible that the
subject suited neither his mood nor the hour.

"But the Governor has! Madre de Dios! all the women of the Presidio
and the Mission have pestered him. They are sick with jealousy at the
shawls you gave us that day--those that did not go to the ship. How
clever of your excellency to give us just enough for ourselves and
nothing for our friends! And those that went want more and more. They
have called upon him--one, two, four, and alone. They have wept and
scolded and pleaded. I did not know until yesterday that your
commissary had also shown the things to the priests from San
Jose--Father Jose Uria and Father Pedro de la Cueva. They and the
priests of San Francisco have argued with the Governor not once but
three times. Dios! how his poor excellency swore yesterday. He
threatened to return at once to Monterey. I flew into a great rage and
threatened in turn to follow with all