“But here we must stop. It is but two hundred yards to the mission, and I dare not approach nearer. Moreover, I have things to do before dawn. May God and the saints guard you, _señorita_, and you, _señora_, during the trials that are to come. I regret that you’ll have to dismount, else ride with the _señora_----” “Gladly will I walk the remainder of the way,” Señora Vallejo said, “if you will aid me to the ground. I doubt, however, whether I can use my legs for several minutes.” “Walk slowly up the roadway,” the caballero instructed. “You will meet guards, no doubt. If they challenge, you must answer immediately and inform them of your identity. I will try to attract their attention when you have gone a little way, and let them know you are approaching.” He helped the _señora_ to the ground, then returned to his horse and reached up for the _señorita_. “You have not untied my feet and arms,” she reminded him. “_Dios!_ That I should have forgotten that! Can you ever forgive me, sweet lady? So many things have happened lately that I am beginning to have a poor memory.... There! Take a step or two to restore circulation. Hold to my arm----” “Your arm is wet!” she exclaimed. “Perspiration, _señorita_. There--I think you can walk now. Remember what I have said--remain in the guest house when the attack begins, no matter what others may wish you to do. As for this man who insulted you--he shall pay the price. _Adios, señorita!_” He carried her hand to his lips and kissed it, though she made futile effort at withdrawal. “_Adios_, Captain Fly-by-Night,” she said; and disappeared in the darkness. The caballero waited until the sound of the women’s footsteps had died away, then he mounted his horse again, took out his pistol, and fired into the air. A quick challenge came from the distance. “Attention, _señores_!” he called. “Do not fire at the roadway--Señora Vallejo and Señorita Fernandez come!” An exclamation of incredulity answered him; he heard Anita calling in her own voice; then he slapped the horse Señora Vallejo had ridden and sent it back up the road, and swung his own mount toward the hill. “‘_Señor_, your arm is wet,’” he mimicked. “By the saints, that was rare indeed! ‘Perspiration, _señorita_,’ said I. Hah! Excellent--if it was not so inconvenient--and painful!” * * * * * In the guest house a few minutes later Señorita Anita Fernandez happened to glance down at her hand. She gasped in surprise and understanding when she saw blood on it. CHAPTER XVIII FOES IN WAITING