“You remember my name, then, little one!” he laughed, delightedly. “I have been to Tucson since I saw you that blessed night, and I heard all about you.” “Hush, senor! It is my mother who calls. List! Let me go, sefior!” for his arm had suddenly stolen about her waist. “Promise you will come--promise!” “I dare not! O Felipe, no!” she cried, for he had with quick impulse folded her tightly in his strong embrace and his lips were seeking hers. Struggling to avoid them she had hidden her face upon his breast. “Promise--quick!” he whispered. “Ah, if I can--yes. Now let me go.” His firm hand turned her glowing face to his; his eager lips pressed one lingering kiss just at the corner of her pretty mouth. She hurled herself from him then and bounded into the darkness. An instant more and he heard the latch of the rear door click; a stream of light shot out toward the corral and she was gone. Then slowly he returned to the corner of the wall, fully expecting that Staines had left. To his surprise, there was the clerk composedly awaiting him. “Where have you sent Leon Ruiz?” was the stern question. “I do not recognize your right to speak to me in that tone, Mr. Adriance. If you have nothing else to ask me--good night!” “By God, sir! I heard your whispered talk with him and I know there is mischief afoot,” said the lieutenant, as he strode after the retreating form. “This thing has got to be explained, and in the major's presence.” Staines halted, and lifting his hat with Castilian grace of manner bowed profoundly to the angry officer. “Permit me, sir, to conduct you to him.” An hour later, baffled, puzzled, balked in his precious hopes, Mr. Adriance returned to the bivouac of his little command. Major Sherrick had promptly and fully confirmed the statement of his clerk. It was he who told Mr. Staines to employ a ranchman to ride by night to Captain Rawlins, and the mysterious caution that surrounded the proceedings was explained by the fact that Pedro had refused his permission and that Leon had to be bribed to disobey the paternal order. Adriance was dissatisfied and suspicious, but what was there left for him to say? Then he had hastened to the summer house, and waited a whole hour, but there came no Isabel. It was nearly 10 o'clock when he turned his horse over to the care of the guard in a little clump of cottonwoods near the Gila. “We remain here to-morrow,” he briefly told the sergeant. “No need to wake the men before 6.” With that he went to the little wall tent, pitched for his use some yards away. How long he slumbered Adriance could not tell. Ill at ease as to the strange conduct of Staines, he had not slept well. Conscience, too, was smiting him. Something in the tones of that girlish voice thrilled and quivered through his memory. What right had he even to ask her to meet him? What wrong had he not wrought in that one kiss? Somebody was fumbling at the fastening of the tent flap.