d again after three years; Bruce had written to him to come and
now that events had led him so near, he should grant the request; Bruce
was having his own troubles, no doubt against the lawlessness of
Escobar, Rios and the rest. And finally, he and Bruce might work
things together so that both should derive benefit. Bruce might be in
a position to befriend Gordon's little daughter.

So much did Kendric dwell on the subject that night that it claimed his
first thoughts when he woke in the early dawn. And therefore, when
Zoraida's message was handed to him at the breakfast table, he stared
at it with puzzled eyes asking himself if the amazing creature had read
his thoughts through thick walls of adobe.

The message was typewritten, even to the signature. It said:

"No doubt Senor Kendric would like to see his old friend Senor West.
If he will only set his signature below what follows he will be given a
horse, permission to ride and instructions as to direction. Zoraida."

And below were the words, with date and a dotted line for him to sign:

"I pledge my word, as a gentleman, to Zoraida Castelmar, that I will
return to her at Hacienda Montezuma not later than daybreak twenty-four
hours from now. . . ."

"A take or leave proposition, clean cut," he comprehended promptly.
And as promptly he decided to take it. The maid who had brought him
the paper was offering pen and ink. He accepted and wrote swiftly:
"Jim Kendric."

"Has Barlow breakfasted yet?" he asked, returning to his coffee.

"An hour ago, Senor. He has gone out."

"Alone?"

"No, senor. With La Senorita Zoraida."

"Hm," said Kendric. "And Rios? And Escobar?"

"Senor Rios went to bed late; it is his custom, senor." The girl
looked as though she could tell him more but, with a quick glance over
her shoulder, contented herself with saying only: "Senor Escobar is
with the men outside."

"And the American girl? Miss Gordon?"

"Asleep still, senor."

"Has Escobar been near her?"

"No, senor. She has been alone except for me and Rosita. _La
pobrecita_," she added, almost in a whisper. "She is so frightened."

"Be kind to her," said Kendric. He, too, looked over his shoulder. In
his pocket were the few fifty-dollar bills left to him from his oil
shares. "What is your name?"

"Juanita," she told him.

"All right, Juanita; take this." He slipped a bill along the
tablecloth toward her. "Give Rosita half, you keep half. And be