"

But Dona Rosita shook her head and turned impetuously, and said in
English to Joan:

"No, it was astutcia--a trick, a ruse. Because when my father have
arrived at his house, he is agone. And so every time. When he have the
fit he goes not to his house. No. And it ees not until after one time
when he comes back never again, that we have comprehend what he do at
these times. And what do you think? I shall tell to you."

She composed herself comfortably, with her plump elbows on her knees,
and her fan crossed on the palm of her hand before her, and began again:

"It is a year he has gone, and the stagecoach is attack of brigands.
Tiburcio, our vaquero, have that night made himself a pasear on the
road, and he have seen HIM. He have seen, one, two, three men came from
the wood with something on the face, and HE is of them. He has nothing
on his face, and Tiburcio have recognize him. We have laugh at Tiburcio.
We believe him not. It is improbable that this Senor Huanson--"

"Senor who?" said Demorest.

"Huanson--eet is the name of him. Ah, Carr!--posiblemente it is
nothing--a Don Fulano--or an apodo--Huanson."

"Oh, I see, JOHNSON, very likely."

"We have said it is not possible that this good man, who have come to
the house and ride on his back the children, is a thief and a brigand.
And one night my father have come from the Monterey in the coach, and it
was stopped. And the brigands have take from the passengers the money,
the rings from the finger, and the watch--and my father was of the same.
And my father, he have great dissatisfaction and anguish, for his watch
is given to him of an old friend, and it is not like the other watch.
But the watch he go all the same. And then when the robbers have made a
finish comes to the window of the coach a mascara and have say, 'Who
is the Don Andreas Pico?' And my father have say, 'It is I who am Don
Andreas Pico.' And the mask have say, 'Behold, your watch is
restore!' and he gif it to him. And my father say, 'To whom have I the
distinguished honor to thank?' And the mask say--"

"Johnson," interrupted Demorest.

"No," said Dona Rosita in grave triumph, "he say Essmith. For this
Essmith is like Huanson--an apodo--nothing."

"Then you really think this man was your old friend?" asked Demorest.

"I think."

"And that he was a robber even when living here--and that it was not
your cruelty that really drove him to take the road?"

Dona Rosita shrugged her plump sho