“What can the _Americanos_ expect in the way of protection?” The words of the fiery-eyed miner up in the mountains came back to him. No use asking for any help up to the border from him. He pressed his face miserably up against the gratings and stared through unseeing. Where was Raquel? CHAPTER XVII FATE PLAYS A TRICK It was nearly noon when Paintbrush trotted quickly up the last rocky bit of road that led through the narrow defile into Nacozari. Across the valley the great works of the Nacozari Mining Company lay idle. There was not a sign of life about. The gay little plaza, washed green with the rainy season, was deserted, but the torn grass and the débris littering the place showed that an army had bivouacked there. The doors of the hotel were closed and locked; the gates barred. On the main door hung a placard ordering that the hotel and mine were to remain closed awaiting the return of the regiment; it was signed by the Colonel. It was a bad place to stay around, and as Paintbrush had had his fill at the river, Raquel swung past the fountain and turned up the hill on which the officials of the company had built their residences. It looked like a California suburb on the hill--pretty bungalows, tennis courts, a rudimentary golf course. There were groves of citrus fruits. It was all very pretty. Raquel dismounted, took off Paintbrush’s saddle and blanket, so that he could roll on the grass, and then stretched herself beneath the trees. Here in this hidden spot she and Paintbrush could rest without being seen. She slept and dreamed--dreamed she heard some one crying pitifully, in a heartbroken way. Could it be Mom? The thought jarred her into consciousness, and she leaped to her feet. But there was not a sound in this deserted place, except the faint yapping of some little cur dog from a far hillside, where the huts of the peon miners clung like swallows’ nests. The drip, drip of water from near one of the houses broke the stillness. Raquel stepped quietly over to where a pipe and faucet rose from the grass near a balcony. As she laid a hand upon the faucet a door on the balcony before her opened and a slight girlish figure stepped out. Speechless with amazement, they stood face to face for a moment, the girl on the balcony wavering slightly back and forth. Then with a moan she tottered and fell forward. Raquel pulled open the screen door with a quick movement and reached the girl’s side; she caught her before she could fall to the floor. It was Lois Wainwright! Thin and pale she was, but still lovely, though her closed eyes were red with weeping, and blue hollows smudged her cheeks. The shock of it almost stunned Raquel. Lois! How could she be here, of all places!