“But he had strange moods and ways, this American, and at times they would have thought him a lunatico had they not believed it to be an American fashion. He would be very kind and gentle like one of the family, coming to the casa every day, playing with the children, advising Don Andreas and--yes--having a devotion--very discreet, very ceremonious, for Dona Rosita. And then, all in a moment, he would become as ill, without a word or gesture, until he would stalk out of the house, gallop away furiously, and for a week not be heard of. The first time it happened, Dona Rosita was piqued by his rudeness, Don Andreas was alarmed, for it was on an evening like the present, and Dona Rosita was teaching him a little song on the guitar when the fit came on him. And he snapped the guitar strings like thread and threw it down, and got up like a bear and walked away without a word.” “I see it all,” said Demorest, half seriously: “you were coquetting with him, and he was jealous.” But Dona Rosita shook her head and turned impetuously, and said in English to Joan: “No, it was astutcia--a trick, a ruse. Because when my father have arrived at his house, he is agone. And so every time. When he have the fit he goes not to his house. No. And it ees not until after one time when he comes back never again, that we have comprehend what he do at these times. And what do you think? I shall tell to you.” She composed herself comfortably, with her plump elbows on her knees, and her fan crossed on the palm of her hand before her, and began again: “It is a year he has gone, and the stagecoach is attack of brigands. Tiburcio, our vaquero, have that night made himself a pasear on the road, and he have seen HIM. He have seen, one, two, three men came from the wood with something on the face, and HE is of them. He has nothing on his face, and Tiburcio have recognize him. We have laugh at Tiburcio. We believe him not. It is improbable that this Senor Huanson--” “Senor who?” said Demorest. “Huanson--eet is the name of him. Ah, Carr!--posiblemente it is nothing--a Don Fulano--or an apodo--Huanson.” “Oh, I see, JOHNSON, very likely.”