Lois’ eyelids began to flutter and Raquel, lifting her in wiry arms, half carried, half dragged the limp figure out on the grass. She bathed the white face with fresh water from the faucet and fanned her briskly with a palmetto leaf. Lois’ eyes opened slowly, almost reluctantly, and she sat up, looking hungrily into the face peering down at her. “Raquel Daniels,” she faltered. “So it really is you? I was afraid to look again. I hardly dared believe it.” And she turned her head away as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Come, Lois,” Raquel spoke quietly, patiently, as to a child. “Come, dear, you mustn’t cry. Tell me, is it possible that you are all _alone_ here? Where is your father?” “Take me away, save me!” Lois’ eyes widened with terror. “Papa, papa--is dead. He died suddenly.” She could say no more. She was almost unstrung with strain, fright and grief. A few babbling words about the Chino cook who had gone away with everything and the Mexican boy who was coming back to take her off into the mountains roused Raquel to the necessity for getting away. Could she get Lois to El Escondido? How was it possible with one so weak and broken? Leading her gently back into the house, Raquel glanced about the attractive bungalow. How pleasant it would be to stay right here, if they only dared. But she herself must return to the Ranch of the Desert to find Georgie, and she couldn’t leave Lois alone. No, Lois would have to go with her. But there was little food in the pantries. They had been looted; doors were ajar; cupboards open. She found, however, in the places where it always occurs to womankind to look, whole-wheat crackers, some cheese, and a box of guava paste. She threw them into a sack, leaving the tinned milk and sea foods which were most likely to be spoiled. She dashed back to Lois, who, with frightened eyes, was hastily stuffing clothes and toilet articles into a suitcase. “You can’t take that, Lois.” Raquel spoke gently. “We have no way of carrying it, dear. I am going out now while you put on some riding clothes--that linen suit would be best--to see if I can’t rout out a burro, or a mule, to carry what we need--unless I can find another horse for you to ride. Quick, Lois! We _must_ be quick.” Lois, with a swift obedience that was touching, and with a piteous reliance on Raquel, began at once to get into her things. She seemed afraid to speak aloud, but she did not want Raquel to leave her there alone for an instant. “Don’t go, don’t go,” she pleaded, in a whisper. “Wait for me.” Raquel helped her. They left the wardrobe full of lovely, flimsy frocks, the bureau drawers full of scented undergarments. Lois snatched her father’s picture from the dressing table and Raquel, on impulse, pushed the silver articles into the wardrobe and turned the key in the lock. It was a stalwart piece of furniture. The owners would be back some day and might return the things if they had not been filched.