“The Fernandez rancho!” the sergeant gasped. “It is there, so this Captain Fly-by-Night has informed me, that the hostiles are gathering.” “That is nonsense. I am going out to the rancho immediately with some ladies, and four soldiers as guards. Would I make the journey if there was danger, especially with ladies along?” “Perhaps you are well informed,” the sergeant retorted, “and perhaps, again, you are not.” “It appears you give considerable weight to the statements of this Fly-by-Night.” “There are times when a man is forced to do so, Señor Rocha,” the sergeant replied, flushing again. “Does this runaway dog of an Indian go with you?” “He does, naturally, since he is my servant.” “You may be walking into a trap. Yourself, four soldiers and some ladies would be a great catch for the hostiles.” “I’ll take care of myself, sergeant, thank you.” “Um! Since I have a sort of roving commission at the present time, I think I’ll ride along.” “I have not asked for your escort, sergeant.” “Nevertheless, I think I’ll ride along toward the rancho. Your four soldiers will pay more attention to discipline with a sergeant along. Besides, I wish to see this far-famed San Diego country; and, at least, it may pay me to watch this Indian servant of yours. Yes--I believe I’ll ride along!” “You force me to say that you will not be welcome, sergeant Four soldiers are enough.” “As to that, I penetrate many places where there is no welcome. I am not supersensitive, Señor Rocha, and my feelings cannot be injured easily, I assure you. It will not be necessary for me to ride beside the carreta I see you have ready. I can ride ahead, behind, to one side.” “This is almost past endurance.” “You are a wounded man, and of course cannot endure much,” the sergeant observed, whirling on his heel and walking toward the other end of the plaza. Behind him he left a young man with angry face, who gurgled imprecations. Señorita Anita came from the guest house now, dressed for the journey, and Señora Vallejo walked behind her, still muttering protests against the trip to the rancho at this time. They got in the carreta, and it started out along the road up the valley. Two soldiers rode ahead and two behind. On one side of the carreta Señor Lopez guided his horse and tried not to show his displeasure; on the other side trotted a young man who talked to the ladies half the time, and spent the other half glowering at the mounted sergeant, who galloped about the country far to one side, now disappearing behind a ledge of rock, now coming into view at the crest of a hill, but always near. Just behind the carreta rode the neophyte, a bundle of clothing across the mule in front of him. There was frank fear in his face whenever one of the troopers approached him, and always he glanced toward his master as if expecting a signal or command.