hese are
only akin to love.

It was not long before Valencia began to suspect that she had not been
told the whole truth about the affair of the outlaw horse. There was
some air of mystery, of expectation, among her _vaqueros_.

At her approach, conversation became suspended, and perceptibly shifted
to other topics. Moreover, Pedro was troubled in his mind, out of all
proportion to the extent of his wound.

She knew it would be no use to question him; but she made occasion soon
to send for Juan Gardiez, the lad who had driven him home.

From the doorway of the living-room, Juan presently ducked a bow at her.

"The _senorita_ sent for me?"

"Yes. Come in, Juan. Take that chair."

Now, though Juan had often sat down in the kitchen, he had never before
been invited to seat himself in this room. Wherefore, the warm smile
that now met him, and went with the invitation, filled him with a more
than mild surprise. Gingerly he perched himself on the edge of a chair,
twirling his dusty sombrero round and round as a relief to his
embarrassment.

"I am sorry, Juan, that you don't like me or trust me any longer," his
mistress began.

"But, _dona_, I do," exclaimed the boy, nearly falling from his chair in
amazement.

She shook her head.

"No; I can see you don't. None of you do. You keep secrets from me. You
whisper and hide things."

"But, no, _senorita_----"

"Yes. I can see it plainly. My people do not love me. I must go away
from them, since----"

Juan, having in his tender boyish heart a great love for his _dona_,
could not stand this.

"No, no, no, _senorita_! It is not so. I do assure you it is a mistake.
There is nothing about the cattle, nothing about the sheep you do not
know. It is all told--all."

"_Muy bien_. Yet you conceal what happened yesterday to Pedro."

"He was thrown----"

She stopped him with a gesture.

"I don't want to know that again. Tell me what is in the air; what is
planned for Senor Gordon; what Pedro has to do with it? Tell me, or
leave me to know my people no longer love me."

The boy shook his head and let his eyes fall before her clear gaze.

"I can tell nothing."

"Look at me, Juan," she commanded, and waited till he obeyed. "Pedro it
was that shot at this man Gordon. Is it not so?"

His eyes grew wide.

"Some one has told?" he said questioningly.

"No matter. It was he. Yesterday the American saved his life. Surely
Pedro does not still----"

She did not finish