Don Tiburcio de Garcia was indeed all that Ceran St. Vrain had said of him. He knew how to move silently, unobserved. He knew how to wait. He had thus been delaying his departure from Santa Fe, despite his final dismissal by Consuelo, for two reasons. One reason was the message from ex-President Pedraza, delivered to him by Steven on the night of his arrival in Santa Fe. The other reason was Hope Bragdon. He had no intention of being dismissed from her company so briefly and summarily as on the first occasion of his seeing her. On the afternoon after Bragdon had set the dog on Luis, Don Tiburcio, having made sure that the Yankee was not at home, had himself ridden by the house, stopping there for an hour. He had, however, previously prevailed upon Doña Katarina to precede him by half an hour in a call upon the American girl. The three of them chatted gayly with Doña Katarina as duenna and interpreter. The callers departed together, leaving Hope a little bewildered, but smiling. The Spanish gentleman had asked permission to call again upon herself and her father, as soon as he should have returned from a trip to Taos, whither he was going, he said, on the morrow. Then had come Steven’s visit, and its disastrous outcome, and Hope saw no more of him for a time. On the evening before the terrible raid on their home Don Tiburcio again appeared, and though he regretted much the absence of Señor Bragdon from the house, he dismounted and sat down upon the doorstep, playing with Doren. He made the boy a present of a fine Indian bow and arrow, also of a pair of Mexican leather chaps. Doren was delighted and Hope’s heart warmed as it could not have been in any other way. They did not see Don Tiburcio again until the day after the attack. He learned of the calamity from Doña Katarina as soon as he got back. She had heard the news through Steven the morning following the fire and fight. Don Tiburcio hastened at once out to the parched ranchito. He came dressed in his most elegant clothes, with two servants riding behind, and with gifts of food and fine blankets. James Bragdon greeted him cordially from his bed in the living room--a wealthy Mexican gentleman, a merchant of Chihuahua too. They talked of New Spain and Old Mexico. Don Tiburcio spoke of the silver placers south of Santa Fe, the bullion of Chihuahua, the riches of Old Mexico. In his eagerness to seek such wealth James Bragdon could have kicked off the bedclothes and started out at once, but for the wounded leg. He grew impatient with the thought of ranching, especially after the attack of the day before. He would go prospecting.