re were other
blankets upon him. He raised his head. The room was one of familiar
lineaments,--whitewashed walls, a mat by the iron bed, an altar in the
corner, linen with elaborate drawn-work on bureau and washstand. The
blood poured upward to the young adventurer's face. Was this his room?
Had he been ill and dreamed strange happenings? He freed his arms and
sat up. No; there was no room in his father's house exactly like this,
monotonous as were the furnishing and architecture of the time.

He took his head between his hands and thought; the events of the past
weeks marched through his brain in rapid and precise succession--up to
a certain point: his senses had been frozen in the Sierras. From a
raging snowstorm to this blistering bed all was blank.

He disencumbered himself, slipped to the floor, and opened the door,
then scrambled back to bed as best he could; his legs felt as if they
had been boned. He was also one vast desire for food and drink. But
that glimpse through the door had raised his spirits. He was in a great
adobe house surrounding a court in which a fountain splashed among
ferns and little orange-trees. It was the house of a grandee, but there
was none like it in the neighbourhood of the Rancho de los Palos Verdes.

He waited with what patience he could muster until his open door should
attract attention, listening to the murmur of the fountain, inhaling
the fragrance of orange and magnolia, wondering if Adan, too, were
safe, angrily resenting his weakness.

The door cautiously opened wide, and a woman, stout, brown, but of
exceeding grace and elegance, entered and bent over him.

"Good-day, senora," said Roldan, politely. "I am very hungry. Where am
I? And is Adan here?"

The lady smiled and patted his cheek with a shapely and flashing hand.

"He is well and sleeping, my son, and you are both in the Casa of Don
Tiburcio Carillo, of the Rancho Encarnarcion, in a great valley many,
many leagues from the Sierras and the snow--Madre de dios! Pobrecitos!
So cold you must have been, so frightened--and you the sons of great
rancheros, no?"

Roldan modestly named his fortunate status, then sat up and kissed her
hand, as he had seen his gallant brothers kiss the hands of lovely
young donas. The lady looked much pleased and drew a chair beside the
bed. Roldan wondered if he should ever satisfy his raging appetite, but
was too polite to mention the subject again, and determined to satisfy
his curiosit