all night long. Before her she
saw columns of blue smoke rising from the chimneys of Muletown, and
she thought longingly of the well in the plaza. But early though it
was, she feared to be seen and questioned, for she knew many people in
Muletown. So she turned from the main road, leaving the town far to
her right, and struck across the trackless plain for the highway
running toward the Hermosa mountains. When she reached it the sun was
well up in the sky and she sat down on a hillock of sand to rest and
eat her breakfast. She was very tired and it seemed good to lie still
on the warm sand under the warm sun, so she rested there for a long
time, thinking at first of the little gray adobe house far back in
the foothills and wondering what the two old people would think and
what they would do when they should find their one child gone and no
trace left to tell them whither or why she had fled. These thoughts
would bring the tears to her eyes, then she would open the letter and
read it slowly over and over, and kiss the words of love, and, with
soft little laughs and cooings, picture to herself her journey's end.

At last she saw a cloud of dust coming toward her from the direction
of Muletown and, reminded of the possibility of being seen and
questioned by some one she knew, she got up and hurried on her way.
She knew her father and mother would not at once be alarmed over her
departure. They would think she had risen early and gone up into the
foothills to gather sweet herbs. Even after they should find that she
was gone she knew that, in the leisurely fashion of the land and
people of _manana_, it might be two or three days before they would
hitch the horses to the wagon and drive to Muletown to ask if any one
there had seen her. But she did not wish to be discovered in her
flight by any one whom she knew, and so she hurried on, drawing her
mantilla across her face until only her two great black eyes peeped
from its folds.

The wagon behind her clattered up and its sole occupant, a middle-aged
American, asked her in Spanish if she would like to ride. She
hesitated, instinctively fearing speech with any one, and glanced
shyly at the Americano, who was smiling down good-naturedly at her
from the wagon. The man added that if she were going far she had
better ride, for the road across the plain would soon be very hot. She
considered that she did not know this man, that he would not know who
she was, and thought how much