“Why, did you always have pain, Lois?” Raquel asked. “Most of the time, especially in winter; and all the time after Daddy died.” One day they had ridden far; they were warm and flushed. Raquel found a shower bath in the hills, a natural warm and cold shower. A mountain stream had divided in its course, one streamlet flowing over hot rocks, the other in the deep shade of the canyon. Both streams tumbled in a pretty waterfall over into the same pool. Here the two girls splashed and played, moiling up the crystal pool, and drying themselves in the sun. “It is the most fun I ever had in my life, Raquel. How I shall miss it!” Lois sighed. But it was their last frolic at El Escondido. When they returned to the hacienda at sundown, Georgie rushed out to greet them with the news that Concha’s _novio_ was back. He had left the army. The railroad had begun to operate that day, and the way was clear to return home! Raquel hurried in for a conference with Don Nestor. One of the _vaqueros_ was despatched to Nacozari with a letter to Mrs. Daniels, and a telegram to be sent, if the wires were up once more. The _vaquero_ who had first brought news from Georgie had proved an able cowboy and a faithful retainer, so Don Nestor suggested that he be put in charge of an outfit of men and a thousand head of cattle, to start at once on the long overland drive to the border. “It’s a long way,” said Don Nestor, “but they will get there some time, and if the railroad will ship more for us--we shall see. Ah, Raquela! So my little mayordomo is leaving me! I shall be lonely till you will come again.” “But I shall come back surely some time, Don Nestor,” Raquel promised, “indeed I shall--when the war is over, and--and Dad and the boys come back.” “My house is yours,” Don Nestor bowed low as he repeated the old Castilian saying, “always. And all I have I leave to you when I am no more. When you go I should like you to take with you the chest of jewels and gowns. But the lands are to return to the people, to whom they belong by right.” And Raquel knew that he meant it. On a fair morning when the land seemed to swoon of its own loveliness, and the perfume of clematis and honeysuckle penetrated even to the high balcony of Raquel’s room, she woke with the realization that this was to be her last awakening at El Escondido. “Lois,” she called across the _corredor_, “Lois, are you up? Oh, I hate to go! That is, I would hate to if it weren’t for Mom. I must be shameless, lazing away my time here in Mexico for two months.” CHAPTER XX HOME WITH THE HERD