hat he had thrown every other
consideration to the winds, and, regardless of consequences, was madly
preparing to accompany her. Then, like a voice from the tomb, had come
his mother's letter.

He slept not that night. Indeed, for the past two nights sleep had
avoided his haggard eyes. In the feeble glow of his candle he sat in
his little bedroom by his rough, bare table, far into the hours of
morning, struggling, resolving, hoping, despairing--and, at last,
yielding. If he had been born anew that fateful day, seven years
before, when Rosendo first told him the girl's story, he had this
night again died. When the gray hours of dawn stole silently across
the distant hills he rose. His eyes were bleared and dull. His cheeks
sunken. He staggered as he passed out through the living room where
lay the sleeping Americans. Rosendo met him in front of the house.

"Padre!" exclaimed the old man as he noted the priest's appearance.

Jose held up a warning hand. "Do not speak of it, Rosendo. I am not
well. But not a word to Carmen!"

Rosendo nodded understandingly. "It has been hard on you, Padre. But
you will soon be off now. And in the States with her--"

"For God's sake, friend, never speak of that again!" cried Jose
sharply. "Listen! How long will it take to complete your preparations?"

"_Bien_," returned the amazed Rosendo when he recovered his breath,
"we can get away to-morrow."

"Can you not go this evening?"

"No, Padre. There is much to do. But you--"

"Hear me, friend. Everything must be conducted in the greatest
secrecy. It must be given out that the Americans go to explore the
Boque; that you accompany them as guide; that Carmen goes as--as cook,
why not?"

"_Cierto_, she cooks as well as Maria."

"Very well. Juan must be kept in complete ignorance of the real nature
of your trip. He must not go with you. He is the courier--I will see
that Fernando sends him again to Bodega Central to-morrow, and keeps
him there for several days. You say it is some two hundred miles to
Llano. How long will it take to go that distance?"

"Why--_Quien sabe_, Padre?" returned Rosendo thoughtfully. "With a
fair trail, and allowing the _Americanos_ some time to prospect on the
Boque--where they will find nothing--and several days to look over La
Libertad, we ought to reach Llano in six weeks."

"And Cartagena?"

"A week later, if you do not have to wait a month on the river bank
for the boat."

"Then, all going well, w