“Señorita, I have been wanting to ask you to do me the favor to wear for me the costume of the ladies of Andalusia. In my room is a large chest of handsome clothing. It was my wife’s; it is yours, if you will accept it, and the jewels that go with the gowns.” He smiled, a fine, sweet smile, extending his hand deferentially toward her. “I’d love to put them on, Don Nestor!” cried Raquel, rising. “And I know it will be more pleasant to you than seeing me in these riding clothes.” She still wore the extra linen suit which Lois had brought. “I’ll go now,” she said, “and come back for _refrescos_ here.” The old gentleman leaned back musing, a blue-veined hand over his kindly eyes. In the scented twilight of late summer they sat _al fresco_, the old _caballero_ of Mexico, and the _señorita_ of Old Spain. In white lace mantilla, made creamy by the years, and softest silk, gay-flowered, one would hardly have known our hard-riding Raquel. From her small white ears hung earrings heavy with rubies and wrought gold. Round her throat and wrists rich rubies and pearls gleamed. “And I would like you to take up over the _frontera_ with you to your _rancho_ as many head of cattle as we can find _vaqueros_ to drive.” Don Nestor was speaking. “It is little enough, _querida_ _señorita_, after what you have suffered at my hands, through my mistake. There is no question of money. I have more than I shall ever use. I need none here. I am happy, drowsing away my life with memories, away from the world.” He nodded gently. “But Don Nestor, no, no! I couldn’t accept that. I will be partners with you though, if you like.” “Then why not let it be a gift for the Allies?” suggested Don Nestor. “I have great sympathy for them. I should like to be of a little service to the world. Come, let us say that we are partners, then,” he acceded. “Your coming, my dear young friend, has been the one bright spot in many years. It has been very lonely at times. I wish that I might keep you here, but I know that may not be. Some times----” He was interrupted by the sound of hammering at the front gate, followed by Concha’s running to answer. Concha returned quietly and, standing behind Don Nestor’s chair, beckoned Raquel. In the outer court she found a dusty peón, who regarded her with amazement. “But it was a boy,” he objected, “to whom I was directed to give this note. And I was also promised that I would receive another _peso duro_ [silver dollar] for my trip. Where is Señor Dan-i-eel?” But Raquel had seized the note he held in his hand and was reading. “Rakie: Come get me. I’ve tried five times to run away from this darn army, and they always drag me back. My horse is here too. Give the man a dollar if you see him. Signed, Georgie. P.S. We’re just above Nacozari.” “I’ll have to go.” Raquel could have shouted. “It’s from Georgie. He’s found, he’s found. I must start tonight, right away. And perhaps we can get back by tomorrow night--the next day anyway.”