e, I had not seen my assailant, but I had had an
uncanny intuition all day that I was being shadowed--it was the very
day of your departure, by the way--and I knew of only one other beside
myself who had taken that legend seriously. Wiley was doing his best
to locate the Pool; he was aware that I was there for the same purpose
and he would have stopped at nothing to win out, for, as you know,
there was bad blood between us. If he did not actually strike the blow
that felled me I solemnly believe that he was instrumental in it in
some way. Please, don't think me ungenerous toward an enemy that I
tell you this, or even harbor such a thought, but events really seemed
to bear out my suspicions."

"No." Willa was gazing moodily straight before her. "I do not think
you are ungenerous, and I am very glad that you are telling me. I
believe, too, that you are right; I feel sure that he must have been
responsible for your injury. But I am amazed about the map."

"I found it in the ashes of Tia Juana's fire; the little fire in the
grove of zapote trees where she cooked her tortillas, and brewed her
strange concoctions. You had told me of it, do you remember? But
perhaps you have not heard: Tia Juana and the boy, Jose, have
disappeared. They must have gone on the very day you started for New
York, and no one has been able to discover a trace of them, except one.
That is a very significant trace indeed, though.--Have you no curiosity
about the Pool?"

He turned to her suddenly, but Willa could not raise her eyes to meet
his now.

"Of course," she stammered.

"It is located on a grapefruit ranch known as the Trevino hacienda,
about two hundred miles due north of Limasito. Wiley made the best of
his time while I was laid by the heels, but his treachery didn't do him
any good, in the end. He found the Pool, but another had been before
him; old Tia Juana, herself!"

Willa's lips moved, but no sound came from them. She was praying that
he would not look at her again.

"A few days before Tia Juana and the boy disappeared, the Trevino
hacienda changed hands. It was sold for twenty-five thousand dollars,
to one Juana Reyes.--Reyes, if you recall, was the name of the old
Spaniard who owned the Pool originally and whose daughter, Dolores, was
killed by the Indians on her wedding night. Reyes is also the almost
forgotten surname of Tia Juana, so it looks as if the old lady had come
into her own, at last. It is a myster