Indifferently. Enough, I suppose, for--"

"Senor," she says, interrupting him, "I need not ask if you can write.
Take this, and put it in your own language. Say you are gone south, due
south, to a distance of about six miles. Tell your friend to stay here
till some one comes to meet and conduct him to where you'll be found."

Hamersley perceives the rationality of these instructions. There is no
reason why he should not do as desired, and go at once with her who
gives them. By staying some mischance might still happen, and he may
never see his fair rescuer again. Who can tell what may arise in the
midst of that mysterious desert? By going he will the sooner be able to
send succour to his comrade.

He hesitates no longer, but writes upon the piece of paper--in large,
carefully-inscribed letters, so that the _ci-devant_ Ranger need have no
difficulty in deciphering them:--

"Saved by an Angel.--Strike due south. Six miles from this you will
find me. There is a horse, and you can take up his tracks. If you stay
here for a time, one will come and guide you."

The huntress takes the paper from his hand, and glances at the writing,
as if out of curiosity to read the script of a language unknown to her.
But something like a smile playing around her lips might lead one to
believe she has divined the meaning of at least the initial sentence.

She makes no remark, but stepping towards the yucca and reaching up,
impales the piece of paper on one of its topmost spikes.

"Now, caballero," she says, "you mount my mare. See, she stands ready
for you."

Hamersley again protests, saying he can walk well enough.

But his tottering steps contradict him, and he urges his objections in
vain.

The young girl appealingly persists, until at length the gallantry of
the Kentuckian gives way, and he climbs reluctantly into the saddle.

"Now, Lolita!" cries her mistress, "see that your step is sure, or you
shan't have the pinons I promised you. _Adelante! Nos vamos, senor_!"

So saying, she strikes off through the sage, the mustang stepping by her
side, and the two great hounds, like a rear guard, bringing up behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

FOES OR FRIENDS?

Mounted on the mustang mare, Frank Hamersley pursues his way, wondering
at his strange guide. So lovely a being encountered in such an
out-of-the-way corner of the world--in the midst of a treeless,
waterless desert, over a hundred miles from the nearest civil