ember Lucita?"

Her question was wistful as if it would help her to even know he
remembered. He nodded his head in affirmation.

"A golden child," he said. "I have seen pictured saints and angels in
great churches since the days in the hills, but never once so fair a
child as little Lucita."

"Yes, white and gold, and an angel of innocence," she said musingly.
"Always she was that, always! And there was a sweetheart, Mariano
Avila, a good lad, and the wedding was to be. She was embroidering the
wedding shirt for Mariano when--God! God!"

She got up suddenly and paced the floor, her arms hugging her
shoulders tight as if to keep from sobbing. He rose and stood
watching, but uttered no word.

After a little she returned to the couch, and began to speak in a more
even tone.

"There is so much to tell. Much happened. Conrad was driving Jose to
do many things not at first in their plans. Also there was more
drinking,--much more! It was Conrad made plans for the slave raids. He
no longer asked Jose's permission for anything; he gave command to the
men and Jose had to listen. Only one secret thing was yet hidden from
him, the hiding place of the guns from the north. Jose said if that
was uncovered he might as well give up his ranchos. In his heart he
could not trust Conrad. Each had a watch set on the other! Juan got
his death because he made rendezvous with the German.

"That is how it was when the slave raid was made north of here, and
the most beautiful Indian girl killed herself somewhere in this desert
when there was no other way to escape the man;--the scar on the face
of Conrad was from her knife. It was a bad cut, and after that there
was trouble, and much drink and mad quarrels. Also it was that time
Juan Gonsalvo was shot and died from it. Juana, his sister, came in
secret for me while he could yet speak, and that was when----"

She halted, closing her eyes as if to shut out some horror. He thought
she shrank from remembrance of how the secret of Soledad was given to
her, for Juan must have been practically a dead man when he gave it
up. After a moment she went on in the sad tone of the utterly
hopeless.

"I speak of the mad quarrels of those two men, Ramon, but it was never
of that I had fear. The fear came each time the quarrel was done, and
they again swore to be friends, for in the new 'friend hours' of
drinking, strange things happened, strange wagers and strange gifts."

Again she paused, and this