But in the dark she could not find her way, and after an hour she came to the bank of the river that flows west of Moctezuma. Here in the trees she was forced to hide till daylight. As soon as she could see she changed back into her boy’s clothes, having discovered the bundle which Georgie had thrust into the saddle bag. Alas, when morning actually came she found she was north of the town, and could not go back again, for a cordon of soldiers rode back and forth across the outskirts all day. She was hungry and thought thankfully of the lunches she had providently packed in both Georgie’s and her own saddle bags the afternoon before. Her saddle bag now looked curiously lumpy. “Mom’s sterno,” she thought ruefully. But investigation brought to light some delicacies which Georgie had evidently filched from the party the night before--delicious loaves of brown cane sugar and sweet native cakes. As soon as it grew dark she crept into town afoot and ventured upon the streets. Not a soul was abroad. The soldiers had the occupants thoroughly well scared, and Raquel was roughly ordered to get back into the house when she peered from the shadow of a sheltering doorway. So she had to retire within a strange house, climb over a wall, and make her way through dark lanes down to the spot on the riverbank where she had left Paintbrush tethered. That was perhaps the most precarious experience of the entire adventure, that careful, creeping journey, stumbling from bush to bush; and what joy finally to hear the pinto’s nicker, to fall upon his neck! She slept on the ground near him; if he had lain down she would have pillowed her head upon his flank. As it was, when she woke in the morning he was standing almost over her, keeping watch. And so it was every day, hiding by day, hunting by night. Finally hunger forced her away in search of food, which she bought easily at far-away houses, returning always to her covert among the trees by the river. Finally on the evening of the fourth day the detachment of _Carrancistas_ left Moctezuma, and that night she slipped into town to make a thorough search for Georgie. First to the priest’s house, of course. The housekeeper was irate at being roused after dark. What, a miserable child! Yes, one had hung around there for a few days, three days, but she had sent it away. An ugly little girl in a gingham dress--yes, _color-de-rosa_. Well, Georgie wasn’t held by her _teniente_ then. Somewhat relieved, Raquel gave the woman a piece of money that made her gasp, and a note for the child should she come back. “He,” Raquel amended, confiding that it was really a boy, and that he might be dressed as one if he came back.