"I think you will be cold," said a polite voice at her elbow. "Wait--I have a robe." And a blanket which smelled of the stable rather than of the garage was wrapped carefully around her. "In a few moments we shall be out of this sand." For a while they rode in silence, then the girl said, apologetically: "I am so sorry. I didn't want you to go to all this trouble--but I couldn't stay in that awful place when Bob is so near!" "If you think Conejo is bad I wonder what you would think of some of our towns further south? They are ruins." "Ruins?" "Ten years of revolution--they do not improve a country." Polly did not reply. She peeped out of her collar and saw that Pachuca's prophecy was fulfilled. They had ridden out of the area of the sand-storm and were getting into the foothills where the air was cold and clear. They faced the new moon which gave an eerie look to everything--the distant mountains, the foothills with their weird patches of vegetation, tall cacti and dark looking arroyos. Far, far in their rear could be seen the few feeble lights of Conejo. It began to dawn upon an awed Polly that she was doing not an unconventional but a distinctly risky thing. What did she know about this good-looking boy who sat beside her, guiding the car so expertly through the ruts and chuck holes that chopped up the road? Suppose he turned out to be--she caught her breath angrily! He was no common Mexican but a gentleman and one was not afraid of men of one's own class, she told herself. She would not be afraid. She hated people who were afraid. She was having a wonderful experience; the sort of an experience that girls read about but didn't have, and she was going to enjoy it. "I forgot to ask you if you had anything to eat," said Juan Pachuca. "You didn't, did you?" "I had crackers," said Polly. "What did you have?" "I was more fortunate. I found my friend at dinner," replied the young man. "Where were you going when you met me?" "Eventually to my ranch, but first to find you. I did not think you would stay with the Senora Morgan." Polly laughed in spite of herself. "I couldn't," she confessed. "Do you know, she seemed to think it doubtful that Bob and Emma had come back to Athens? I wonder why?" "Perhaps," replied the Mexican, "she thought the country not quite safe for a young lady." "But I thought things were settling down?" "There will be no settling down until after the elections." "The elections?" "You would not understand. Americans never do." "Perhaps some of us might if you gave us a chance; but when you go rearing and pitching around, killing us and raiding border towns like that murderous Villa----" "In war there is no murder," said Juan Pachuca, calmly. "And Villa is a friend of mine." "Well, I can't help it, and I think it's very strange for a well brought up boy like you to be friends with a man like Villa." Pachuca laughed as he glanced at the girl's wrathful face.