early bowled over. "She told you!" he repeated; and as he
said it, passion for the first time came into his voice. There was the
sound of hoof beats down the road. But neither of them paid any attention.

"Absolutely," the old man affirmed.

"Absolutely?"

"Absogoshdarnlutely!" Uncle Henry relieved the tension by saying.

Gilbert came over and peered into his uncle's face. "You don't mean you
spoke to her about it?" he said.

"Why not?" rather impudently. "Somebody had to do it." And he chuckled. "I
know what would become of Hypocricy if a few of you youngsters would be as
brave as us old boys!"

"Good Lord!" was all young Jones could say, and he put his hand to his
head.

"John Alden spoke for Miles Standish, an' they wasn't even related," Uncle
Henry tried to placate the other.

The horse on the road, unknown to the men, had reached the adobe. Lucia
Pell, radiant as a prairie flower, appeared at the door. She wore a
riding-habit that fit her to perfection, and her hair, tumbled a bit by the
soft breeze, fell around her face in a cascade of golden loveliness. Her
eyes sparkled. She was the picture of glorious health and youth--a woman
born for love and loving. She brought fragrance into the room.

"Hello, Gil!" she said, beating her riding-crop on her boot, and smiling
that entrancing smile of hers. She was glad to see her handsome host again
after her brisk ride.

"Good morning, Lucia," Gilbert said, hardly daring to look at her.

Uncle Henry didn't mean to be overlooked. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Pell," he
said, meaningly.

"Why, it _is_ afternoon, isn't it?" she laughed.

"It's darn near night," Uncle Henry rasped.

"And I'm simply famished. Who wouldn't be, after such a glorious ride!"
Lucia said.

"The cook's getting dinner now. Have a good canter, you say?" young Jones
inquired.

"I missed you," Lucia answered, unashamed.

Uncle Henry looked disgusted.

"I'm sorry, I had a lot of things to attend to. I'm glad you're back, for I
was beginning to be worried about you, Lucia. Bandits! They're around
again."

Lucia didn't take him seriously. She hardly remembered that they were so
close to the border of Mexico. "Bandits?" she scoffed. "Oh, but they just
steal cows and things, don't they?"

"Worse than that." Gilbert was serious, and gave her an appraising glance.
"Human life means little in Mexico. They even kill their prisoners in cold
blood."

But still Lucia was not alarmed. "If that's true