apitan."

Ramona shrieked aloud. She had not thought of this possibility.
Alessandro had thought of everything. "What could happen?" she cried.

"I mean if the men were there, and if they took me for stealing the
horse," he said.

"But you would not have the horse with you," she said. "How could they
take you?"

"That mightn't make any difference," replied Alessandro. "They might
take me, to make me tell where the horse was."

"Oh, Alessandro," sobbed Ramona, "what shall we do!" Then in another
second, gathering her courage, she exclaimed, "Alessandro, I know what
I will do. I will stay in the graveyard. No one will come there. Shall I
not be safest there?"

"Holy Virgin! would my Majel stay there?" exclaimed Alessandro.

"Why not?" she said. "It is not the dead that will harm us. They would
all help us if they could. I have no fear. I will wait there while you
go; and if you do not come in an hour, I will come to Mr. Hartsel's
after you. If there are men of the Senora's there, they will know me;
they will not dare to touch me. They will know that Felipe would punish
them. I will not be afraid. And if they are ordered to take Baba, they
can have him; we can walk when the pony is tired."

Her confidence was contagious. "My wood-dove has in her breast the heart
of the lion," said Alessandro, fondly. "We will do as she says. She
is wise;" and he turned their horses' heads in the direction of the
graveyard. It was surrounded by a low adobe wall, with one small gate
of wooden paling. As they reached it, Alessandro exclaimed, "The thieves
have taken the gate!"

"What could they have wanted with that?" said Ramona

"To burn," he said doggedly, "It was wood; but it was very little. They
might have left the graves safe from wild beasts and cattle!"

As they entered the enclosure, a dark figure rose from one of the
graves. Ramona started.

"Fear nothing," whispered Alessandro. "It must be one of our people. I
am glad; now you will not be alone. It is Carmena, I am sure. That was
the corner where they buried Jose. I will speak to her;" and leaving
Ramona at the gate, he went slowly on, saying in a low voice, in
the Luiseno language, "Carmena, is that you? Have no fear. It is I,
Alessandro!"

It was Carmena. The poor creature, nearly crazed with grief, was
spending her days by her baby's grave in Pachanga, and her nights by her
husband's in Temecula. She dared not come to Temecula by day, for the
Americans were the