Elbert could stand the tension no longer. Through his mind flicked memories of the supper in the old barefooted woman’s house in Nacimiento, of the ride afterward, of the strange, still, flowered room in Tucson. He longed to be alone, his thoughts turned yearningly toward the fonda of Arecibo; he longed to stand alone with Mamie in the clean corral behind it. A sentry, one of the soldiers of Cordano stopped him, as he started to enter the portal from the patio. ‘I am leaving,’ he said. ‘I am with the captain of the rurales--’ Ramon Bistula now came forward from the low side door in the wall, and at the same instant, the heavy wooden gate opened from the street, and Mamie veered in under the arch, led by a soldier. Another soldier followed, bearing the big stock-saddle and blankets--Mamie entering this portal of clay! He called her name; she nickered back. Now Captain Ramon was saying: ‘I trust it will not be of great inconvenience--your things being brought from the fonda for this one night--you to pass this one night here, instead of at the fonda--more air, more room--a room being prepared, in fact, for yourself quite alone.’ XIX A CORNER OF THE WALL A ROOM of his own. It was a cell with wooden bars, looking out upon the court where the prisoners and soldiers still played and lounged. A huge moon, almost full, came up over the opposite roof of low cells, and in the distant shadow there, Mamie squealed and let fly--a plebeian pony venturing too close, no doubt. A sickish smile he was not aware of hung around Elbert’s mouth. The floor of the cell was of stone. The wooden bars very thick, the ceiling low. There was a wide wooden bench for him to lie upon--blanket roll, saddle, and saddle-bags had been brought.... So the voluble rurale had had but one idea all the time in the afternoon; and crafty little Ramon Bistula with amiable guile--so pleasantly impersonal in leading one astray and putting men to death--Ramon, keeping him in the plaza while his men doubtless went through saddle-bags and roll. But they could have found nothing to implicate him--some silver and canned stuff. His papers of identification were in order. Then he remembered his mention of San Isidro; he would have to prove that Mamie was not one of the stolen horses. Perhaps they would think his papers were stolen, too! The sickish smile remained--the smile of one who has seen his quest ending in failure. He thought of Mr. Leadley’s affection and care for Mamie, and he had known no better than to let her show her speed on a highroad, and mention the name of San Isidro to the rurale. His hand came up to his mouth--an ache of muscles that didn’t seem to know enough to relax by themselves. The moonlight felt cold, a creeping cold on the stone floor.... The same song from the patio--guitar and corn-dust maiden--but so different, coming to him through the bars. El capitan was at the door, the sentry unlocking the cell.