“Let us strike hands on the bargain, then,” the Mexican proposed. “You are going on to Santa Fe? Good. I shall follow you there within a week or so and we will complete the details. I shall finance the caravan loads that come from St. Louis each year.” Steven slept in a wide fresh room, with linen sheets upon a hair mattress, such luxury as he had not known in months. He left shortly after his breakfast and departed right merrily, while Doren and Hope would not say good-by, but _hasta la vista_ (till we meet again). CHAPTER XI TREASURE TROVE Doña Gertrudis sat before a great log fire, drawing the threads in a new altar cloth. The work was to be like lace and gossamer and would be weighted with silver thread. Tilted back against the wall in his chair, Manuel strummed a _guitarro_, lightly, oh, very lightly, and essayed his new _copleta_--two such pretty stanzas. Was Consuelo going to object to this? He darted an eye in her direction, but she sat quietly on her bench, slowly sipping her chocolate; in fact, she was even tapping slightly with her toe in time to the tinka-tink, atink-atink. Relieved, Manuel threw back his head, closed his eyes, and abandoned himself to the soul of music that burned within him. Ah, it was delightful to sing of love. Especially now that Consuelo did not interrupt him all the time. Really, he was becoming quite fond of his cousin, and coming to enjoy being with her. Whereas before, when he loved her, _Dios_, what torment; and no musical expression at all. As for Consuelo, she was glad to be allowed to concentrate upon her own thoughts. In reality life was not at all the simple and boring thing she had once thought it. Safe and sheltered this valley had always been in their lifetime. Tales of Indian massacre beyond the mountains, or over the deserts lying between them and far Chihuahua--they had never touched her. Like wars far away. She had thrilled with horror to hear of them, but they did not touch her life. Yet tragedies were going on all around them all the time. What was Ess-tevan suffering now? Lightly she had sent would-be suitors off on the long march to Chihuahua through which a lover proved his mettle, and although Steven had not been lightly sent, she had not realized to the full what such a journey might mean. Now she could picture all the hardships and tortures of which she had heard. Perhaps he would never come back and they would never again have word of him or know what had been his end. This thought was too much for her and she wept into her chocolate, so that the spoonful which she took to cover her emotion was very salty. This made her smile. Even upon the verge of one’s seventeenth birthday one cannot be forever repenting, forever gloomy. There are moments in between remorse and an aching heart when coral earrings, a new shawl, the gossip of one’s girl friends, no longer torture, but give relief.