Raquel was touched, for she had never had a considerate thought from Lois before. She began to feel the charm which Lois had always had for the girls at school. You couldn’t expect such a girl to stand any hardship, after all, brought up as she had been. Anne, now--Anne would probably stand the iron like a good one. Raquel laughed aloud. “I haven’t thought of school for a mighty long time now, I can tell you,” she said. “But I thought of it just then. Wouldn’t they be surprised, back there, at us being together like this? I mean, ’way off down here.” So they rode, talking of one thing and another. School--inconsequential things that did not really enter into the drama of their own lives. But at length the story of Lois and her father came out, bit by bit. After spending the winter in California her father had suddenly decided, Lois said, to return to El Paso; but he stopped off at Douglas, Arizona, with the sudden idea of going on down to the mine at Nacozari. That was in April. His physician had told him that the climate would be ideal. He craved dryness and warmth. He was a large stockholder in the company and a close friend of two of the high officials of the mining company at Nacozari. A few telegrams were sent and down they came. It was very comfortable for the first two months, and there was a nice young engineer with whom Lois played tennis and croquet. Her father seemed very happy, and breathed much more easily than he had in the foggy climate of California. Then in May every one else went back north to avoid the heat, but her father _would_ stay. And all at once this new revolutionary disturbance burst out again, and the troops came down into that part of Sonora. And then suddenly--oh, so suddenly, her father died. The Mexicans had buried him up there, on the hillside, and she couldn’t telegraph anybody because all of the wires had been cut by the Mexican general. She had waited for the officials to come back; and she had written letters, including one to her Cousin Jimmy, and given them to some Mexicans who said they would mail them. Then the Chinese cook ran away; he was always so frightened that he would hide when he heard a shot. And the Mexican boy had gone and taken everything, and the little girl who had been her maid did not come any more to wait on her. “What did you do when the army came into town the day before yesterday?” asked Raquel. “I hid all the time,” sobbed Lois, “in the cooling cellar. But I had to come out for water and everything was quiet--that was when I saw you. I thought you were just a Mexican boy at first, but I could never forget your face. And then--it _was_ you.” She ended on a gulp of intense relief.