"Then delivering you, at the end of a lariat, to the Colonel Barcelo, my brother-in-law, owner of this house, and head of the military prison here." The beautiful woman, leaning in her chair, placed her hand on the Captain's arm. "Now to business. Your message found me here two days ago. Of course mine found you." She paused a moment thoughtfully, then continued: "Colonel Barcelo returns to-night. I have planned for you to visit us this evening. You are my friend, Captain Farquharson, whom I knew in London two years ago. You are in the West for big game. Is it not so?" She laughed. "Does Colonel Barcelo know of the wishes of my government?" "He knows nothing. I am seeking to prepare him for such knowledge, however. To-night you may speak much or little, as you think wise." "Señora, you spent several days at the home of Señor Mendoza after the storm. Did any word of yours sound him as to his political feelings?" "Señor Mendoza's words on such matters come slowly. I believe his thoughts are correspondingly rapid." "Why so, señora?" "During my short stay in his hacienda house many young men came there. You know his daughter Carmelita is a beautiful girl." The Captain started to speak, but smiled instead. "These caballeros were duly presented to me. For some reason they spoke, at first casually, but, finally, earnestly, concerning the future political status of this province. I listened." The Captain laughed. "Señora, how did you manage to get the young hidalgos talking on such a subject?" "Fie! Fie! Captain. Even a soldier diplomat should not seek to understand a woman's ways. Let it suffice that they talked." "Yes, yes, señora, they talked. They said----" "Many things. A number sat or were standing around me in the reception room one evening. The wine warmed them, though they drank not intemperately. Politics rolled from their tongues. "Spoke the handsome youth, Abelardo Peralta: 'Why wait for Mexico to drop us? Let us declare now our freedom and become a province of mighty England.' A dozen others joined in declaring for England. Señor Mendoza was listening to all this conversation, meanwhile beaming on everybody. Now he spoke for the first time. Said he: 'Since we are giving away provinces, let us go to the ballroom. The señoritas are waiting. It is the province of hearts there, and giving and taking is always in order.' Thus deftly did our wary host stem the current. Mendoza's keenness is an element not to be lightly considered." "Was there Morando? No?" asked Captain Farquharson, falling into the manner of speech of the Spaniard. "Yes, Morando was there. Eyes, ears, hands, feet, and heart has he for the Señorita Doña Mendoza." The serene calm of the woman ruffled ever so little. "Morando cannot have vented his Spanish citizenship thus soon. Doubtless easily he becomes one of us."