Consuelo wrote, folded a tiny missive, thrust it into Felicita’s hands. “Here, run with it to the house of my aunt Juana on the street leading from the bodega to the house of Doña Katarina. See if you cannot catch him if he passes that way. I must warn him.” She pushed the willing Felicita out the door just as Doña Gertrudis’ step was heard coming in. Consuelo flew to the bed, and when Doña Gertrudis entered was lying with her head pillowed on her arm, fast asleep. Siesta; and a long afternoon that dragged through hot, golden hours. Later, in the garden, when there was no trading for the day, Don Anabel sat with Don Tiburcio, drinking a bottle of berry wine that had been cooling in the acequia since that morning. “It is extraordinary, the amount of goods that those Yanquis pulled out of their wagons this morning,” said Don Tiburcio. “It is incredible, actually. I should have judged that a wagon could have carried but half the amount. But it is to our advantage. Both in the quantity of the useful goods that they bring and in the quality. Competition is invariably a great spur to trade, Don Anabel.” “Perhaps, as you say, this trade with the Yanquis stimulates our business,” Don Anabel conceded, reluctantly, “but it has many other aspects that are undesirable.” “Yes, it has,” agreed Don Tiburcio, thinking of Steven Mercer and the American girl. Was she in love with her countryman? He thought not. She seemed to be in love with no one. She was a saint, as delicately tinted as plaster, and as cold, perhaps as hard. He was fascinated; caught on the rebound of his emotions. He realized it. Was he always to love the unattainable? Don Anabel was talking on. “I have never seen such a vast amount of goods produced as from those wagons. They have already taken in a great deal of silver. But there will be sizable duties upon it, so they will not have the clear profit they look for. Instead of repelling this growing trade and discouraging it,” Don Anabel was arguing, “Colonel Viscarra is doing everything to protect the traders. He himself escorted Colonel Bent’s party from the border to the Fort, and but just missed coming back with this caravan. He has dashed off now to put down a border warfare with the Texans and the Crees. Texas has been claiming, as you know, that the southern route of the Santa Fe Trail lies through her territory. She demands the right of _arancel_, the return-trip duties, instead of Santa Fe.” This seemed to annoy Don Anabel exceedingly, though he’d have admitted no inconsistency in his attitude. “I think Viscarra has the right policy,” replied Don Tiburcio, suavely. “We shall have to come to rely to a certain extent upon American trade. The old opposition that the traders were sent as spies upon our government has been shown to be without foundation.”