ne circumstance that already seemed a portent, and got on a
person's nerves like the stillness of nature just before a Kansas
cyclone. This was the curious absence of all human life. Except for the
grimly expectant troop around her, and the clanking of metal as the
Contras rode, she had no token of a fellow creature. The first of the
plantations was deserted, and likewise the next. But the house doors
were open. Nothing showed preparation for departure. The riddle was
uncanny. At the third Jacqueline stated that she would go no farther.
She hated to tramp down a man's field when the man himself was not about
to express an opinion, and the ruthless swath made by her escort through
the cane gave her shame. Besides, it was too much like wading, the way
her skirts brushed the long leaves and knocked off glistening drops by
myriads.

The third cabin was abandoned too, but there were inducements within for
any houseless creature. A hammock was hanging from corner to corner in
the front room, probably to thwart the fauna of tropical stingers, and
there was that comfort unfamiliar to French women, a rocking chair,
before a most inviting fireplace, itself a luxury rare in Mexico. The
two girls removed their cloaks, and settled themselves to dry their
shoes before a roaring fire which the men lighted for them. Then the
Cossacks, including their colonel, left on some stealthy business
without, and Jacqueline and Berthe were alone.

Jacqueline tried the rocker, found it good, and smoothed her skirts over
her knees to the warmth of the blaze. "We've only to yawn at the flies,
eh, ma cherie?" said she.

"Not a thing else, madame," came a cheery voice from the hammock.

Jacqueline was at once suspicious. "You absurd little mouse," she cried,
"don't I understand that gaiety of yours! And all the while you are
really trembling in fear of terrible bandits. For months now you grieve
because you imagine that I--well, that I am sad. But you'll not make me
hilarious, you won't, Berthe, as long as it's 'madame.' Child, child,
will you not let me have my friend in you, I who have none, nor a mother
or sister! There now, if I'm not to be--ah--pensive--remember there's no
'madame' between thee and me, dear!"

The Bretonne's gentle eyes filled suddenly. Jacqueline had before sought
to change their relations, ever since Berthe's part in Driscoll's rescue
from execution, but she had always tried to bring it about by playful
bantering. Now, how