uite
capable of shooting up the wrong road and carrying her miles in a strange
direction.

The thought made her feel panicky. She tried to remember the turns in the
road, only to realize that she had not seen the road--she had been in the
bottom of the car, her head covered with a blanket when she had traveled
it so short a time ago. Everything looked ghostly and unreal to her in the
half light, while Pachuca, she firmly believed, could see in the dark with
those handsome eyes of his quite as well as any family cat out for a run.

"Go faster, please," she said, sharply, for wherever they were going it
might be as well to get there before dark. "It's getting late and I'm
cold."

Obediently Pachuca swung into the next speed and the car bumped cheerfully
along, the big lights casting a bewildering glare before them.

"If I only knew where we were and what he has up his sleeve!" the girl
groaned inwardly. "I know he has something because he isn't making any
fuss. This road is rougher than it was when we came, too; he has taken a
wrong turn--I know he has!"

Pachuca, apparently resigned to his fate, began to hum melodiously.

"Senor!" Polly's voice was sharp with apprehension and weariness.

"Senorita?"

"We are on the wrong road; I am sure of it. Go back to the place where you
left it."

"With perfect willingness, dear lady, but where shall I go? The road leads
to Athens. Is that not where we want to go--I mean where you want to go?"

"No--I don't know--I think you're tricking me. This isn't the way we came.
It doesn't look to me like a road at all--I think you're going over the
open country. I----" The girl paused. It was disheartening--to go through
so much and then to fail at last. She peered ahead into the dim light,
trying to see what lay beyond the bright lights of the car. It did look
like open country. Ahead lay a hill--a tall hill. Would Pachuca try to
make it or would he climb around the side of it? Something--it looked like
a man on horseback--was coming rapidly down the hill. Had she
miscalculated and were some of Pachuca's men still on the road? Perhaps
the same thought struck the Mexican, for he slowed the car down and peered
eagerly ahead. Polly clutched the revolver feverishly.

"If it's one of your men and you stop--I shall fire!" she said, quickly.

Both stared into the dusk in silence. The rider came almost into the glare
of the lamps.

"Stop!" cried the girl, loudly. "It's Mr. Scott!"

T