The Indian turned his head, and spoke to some one
behind; one after another a score of figures rose. They made signs to
Felipe to come up. "Poor things!" he thought; "they are afraid." He
shouted to them that his horse was too tired to climb that wall; but if
they would come down, he would give them money, holding up a gold-piece.
They consulted among themselves; presently they began slowly descending,
still halting at intervals, and looking suspiciously at him. He held
up the gold again, and beckoned. As soon as they could see his face
distinctly, they broke into a run. That was no enemy's face.

Only one of the number could speak Spanish. On hearing this man's reply
to Felipe's first question, a woman, who had listened sharply and caught
the word Alessandro, came forward, and spoke rapidly in the Indian
tongue.

"This woman has seen Alessandro," said the man.

"Where?" said Felipe, breathlessly.

"In Temecula, two weeks ago," he said.

"Ask her if he had any one with him," said Felipe.

"No," said the woman. "He was alone."

A convulsion passed over Felipe's face. "Alone!" What did this mean! He
reflected. The woman watched him. "Is she sure he was alone; there was
no one with him?"

"Yes."

"Was he riding a big black horse?"

"No, a white horse," answered the woman, promptly. "A small white
horse."

It was Carmena, every nerve of her loyal nature on the alert to baffle
this pursuer of Alessandro and Ramona. Again Felipe reflected. "Ask her
if she saw him for any length of time; how long she saw him."

"All night," he answered. "He spent the night where she did."

Felipe despaired. "Does she know where he is now?" he asked.

"He was going to San Luis Obispo, to go in a ship to Monterey."

"What to do?"

"She does not know."

"Did he say when he would come back?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Never! He said he would never set foot in Temecula again."

"Does she know him well?"

"As well as her own brother."

What more could Felipe ask? With a groan, wrung from the very depths of
his heart, he tossed the man a gold-piece; another to the woman. "I am
sorry," he said. "Alessandro was my friend. I wanted to see him;" and he
rode away, Carmena's eyes following him with a covert gleam of triumph.

When these last words of his were interpreted to her, she started, made
as if she would run after him, but checked herself. "No," she thought.
"It may be a lie. He may be an enemy, for all that. I will not tell