“Raquel.” Unconsciously he spoke in English, although they had agreed always to speak Spanish in Mexico, for policy’s sake. “Don’t worry. I will never leave your side a moment. I’m responsible for you.” “Sh-h, Georgie. It was I who brought you down here. I should have looked into conditions more.... It will come out all right. “Manuel, where are we going?” “To a little _rancho_, Señores, about a mile from here. There we can stay till it is safe to return to El Escondido.” “What barbarities!” Manuel crossed himself piously. “I fear for the shock to the _padron_.... We’d better travel ahead now.” “I don’t like him very much,” Georgie said in a low voice. “Why, Don Nestor trusts him absolutely,” Raquel replied. Now that the shooting had stopped she was seized by a spirit of adventure. Everything always came out all right. They had reached the deserted house, perched near the edge of a sharp cliff, the height of which could not be seen in the darkness. Manuel motioned them to dismount. He took the horses round to a corral, somewhere in the rear of the house, while Georgie and Raquel went inside. They chose the larger of the two front rooms, and were about to close and barricade the door behind them, when Manuel returned and quickly stepped inside. “We’ll sleep here,” Georgie said. There were two cots covered with sheepskin robes, which they could see dimly by starlight. “You can call us if necessary.” “Don Nestor told me not to leave your sides,” replied Manuel courteously but firmly, “and his orders are never to be disobeyed. I shall lie before the door so that any one who enters must do so over my dead body.” Manuel spread his blanket, and made ready to lie down on the floor. “And any one who goes out has got to step over your live body, huh?” thought Georgie. Instinctively he drew nearer Raquel. “My brother can protect me, Manuel,” he said craftily. “We don’t want to deprive you of a bed. We’d really feel more comfortable if some one was outside.” “What is that light over there?” suddenly pointing through the window to a distant hillside, where firelight flared up for a moment, then died down. Manuel shrugged. “_Quien sabe?_ There are probably sheepmen, _vaqueros_, even bandits, in these hills.” Without troubling to look, he lay down in his blanket. Raquel and Georgie lay quietly down side by side. They were both wide awake; could never sleep, they thought. And yet, somehow, after their wild ride, the quiet of the house must have had its effect, for soon both brother and sister lost consciousness. How long a time had passed as she slept Raquel could not have told. She became conscious of some one fumbling about her. Wrapped in that heavy torpor of first sleep, she could not move. Then hands touched her, crept about her waist. The touch brought her instantly fully awake, but an instinct kept her motionless; the hands felt for the pockets of her money belt.