"I have been one of the cooks," she said. "The officers, they eat so much, tortillas, frijoles, everything, and they drink so much, mescal, pulque, wine, everything. Many busy months for Catarina, and I ask for you, but I cannot see you. They say you bad, very bad. Then they say you try to kill the governor, Captain de Armijo, but he strike you on the head with the flat of his sword to save his own life. You have fever, and at last they send me to nurse you as I did that other time." "Do you believe, Catarina, that I tried to kill de Armijo?" asked John. She looked about her fearfully, drew the reboso closely across her shrunken shoulders, and answered in a frightened tone as if the thick walls themselves could hear: "How should I know? It is what they say. If I should say otherwise they would lash me with the whip, even me, old Catarina." The captive sighed. Nothing could break the awful wall of mystery that enveloped him. Catarina even did not dare to speak, although no one but himself could possibly hear. "You mind I smoke?" said Catarina. "No," replied John with a wan smile. "Any lady can smoke in my presence." She whipped out a cigarrito, lighted it with a match, held it for a moment between the middle and fore finger, then inserted it between her aged lips. She took two or three long, easy whiffs, letting the smoke come out through her nose. John had never learned to smoke, but he said to her: "Does it do you good, Catarina?" "Whether it does me good, I know not," replied the Indian woman, "but it gives me pleasure, so I do it. I have to tell you, Señor John, that my son, Porfirio, has returned from the north. He has been at Monterey and the country about it." John at once was all eagerness. "And Antonio Vaquez, the leader of the burro train?" he exclaimed. "Has he heard from him? Does he know if the letter went on beyond the Rio Grande?" "My son Porfirio has not seen Antonio Vaquez," replied Catarina, "and so he does not know from Antonio Vaquez whether the letter has crossed the Rio Grande or not. But it is a time of change." "De Armijo told me that." The old woman looked at him very keenly, and drove more smoke of the cigarrito through her nose. Her next words made no reference to de Armijo, but they startled John: "You look through the loophole to-night, about midnight," she said, "You see something on the mountain side, fire, a torch, it may mean much. Who can tell?" Excitement flamed up again in John’s veins. "What do you mean, Catarina?" he exclaimed. "Last night I crawled to the loophole for air. It was bright moonlight, and while I was standing there I thought three human beings passed on the little patch of the mountainside that I can see." "It is all I know," said Catarina. "I can tell you no more. Now I am _concinero_ (cook) again. Now I go. But watch. There have been many changes. Diego, the soldier, will bring you your food as before. Watch that, too."