ining of trouble like some be-deviled
prophetess."

Afterwards he remembered that thought, and wished he could forget!

Blue shadows stretched eastward across the wide zacatan meadows, and
the hacienda on the far mesa, with its white and cream adobe walls,
shone opal-like in the lavender haze of the setting sun.

Kit Rhodes had timed the trip well and according to instruction of the
general, but was a bit surprised to find that his little cavalcade was
merely part of a more elaborate plan arranged for sunset at Soledad.

A double line of horsemen rode out from the hacienda to meet them, a
rather formidable reception committee as they filed in soldier-like
formation over the three miles of yellow and green of the spring
growths, and halted where the glint of water shone in a dam filled
from wells above.

Their officer saluted and rode forward, his hat in his hand as he
bowed before Dona Jocasta.

"General Rotil presents to you his compliments, Senora Perez, and
sends his guard as a mark of respect when you are pleased to ride once
more across your own lands."

"My thanks are without words, senor. I appreciate the honor shown to
me. My generalissimo will answer for me."

She indicated Kit with a wan smile, and her moment of hesitation over,
his title reminded him that no name but El Pajarito had been given him
by his Indian friends. That, and the office of manager of Mesa Blanca,
was all that served as his introduction to her, and to Rotil. With the
old newspaper in his pocket indicating that Kit Rhodes was the only
name connected with the murder at Granados, he concluded it was just
as well.

The guard drew to either side, and the officer and Kit, with Dona
Jocasta between them, rode between the two lines, followed by Tula and
Valencia. Then the guard fell in back of them, leaving Clodomiro with
the pack animals and the Indian boys to follow after in the dust.

Dona Jocasta was pale, and her eyes sought Kit's in troubled question,
but she held her head very erect, and the shrouding lace veil hid all
but her eyes from the strangers.

"Senor Pajarito," she murmured doubtfully. "The sun is still shining,
and there are no chains on my wrists,--otherwise this guard gives much
likeness to my first arrival at the hacienda of Soledad!"

"I have a strong belief that no harm is meant to you by the general
commanding," he answered, "else I would have sought another trail, and
these men look friendly."

"God send th