Chiquita was there, huddled upon the seat where they had rested together, one foot curled beneath her like a child, her head bowed down disconsolately. From one brown hand, now drooping listlessly, a few wild flowers had scattered, and her slim figure was clad once more in the stiff, coarse denim dress of blue. Her other hand was toying with her beads mechanically, as if the fingers had learned their task from long practice. Her dusky eyes were fast upon the lights that wavered in the pool. As if to prove that the spot was really peopled by kind spirits, a gentle voice seemed to whisper the news to her, and she turned to find him smiling at her. She rose and met him with her hands outstretched, her face transfigured. After a time she leaned backward in his arms, and said, gravely: "You see! When one says many, many prayers, the good saints always answer. The padre told me that I should never cease until you came, but I grew very tired, senor." "And you never doubted me?" "Oh no!" "I'm free, you know." "Of course! What else were my prayers for? Had my father allowed, I would have gone to your prison, but he forbade it, so I had no choice. But every hour I prayed that he might give me leave, and I think his heart was yielding." "I'm sure of that," he told her, "for I have just come from him." It was some time later, when the sun was dipping, that voices sounded outside the wall of verdure, and Kirk heard Andres Garavel saying: "Of a certainty I shall try that experiment, senor, for the ticks in this country are a pest to cattle. A little to the right, and you will find the path--So!" An instant later the two white-haired men appeared. "Hello! There you are, eh?" Darwin K. Anthony exclaimed, gruffly. "Where's that girl?" He paused and let his hostile eyes rest upon Gertrudis. She saw a great, forbidding giant of a man scowling down at her with eyes like Kirk's, and she came forward timidly, holding out her hands. She was smiling up at him faintly. "You are Keerk's father, yes? You are the Senor Antonio." Mr. Anthony uttered a curious, choking exclamation, and gathered her gently in his arms. When he looked up, his eyes were wet and his deep-lined face was working. "I couldn't wait any longer," he apologized humbly to his son. "I had to come and see her." "Ah, then I hope you will like me," she said in her grave, quaint way. "Your father has told me everything"--Garavel laid a hand upon his new son's shoulder--"and we have become good friends already. I fear I owe you a great apology, my boy; but if I consent that you take my little girl away to your country, will that be reparation?" "Then you WILL let her go with us?" Kirk cried, happily. "If she doesn't go, I'll stay," Anthony Senior rumbled. "I--I don't see how you ever did it, you're such a blamed fool. Now let's go back to the house, it's sundown." "We'll be along directly," his son assented. "There are chills in the evening air," Mr. Garavel protested.