He threw the rays of the lamp over the upper part of the victim's body. The face, covered with black clotted blood, was unrecognizable. The drooping head displayed the most hideous wound: the skull was stripped of its skin and hair. "It was Antonio who did that," said Simon, remembering the Indian's smile when he, Simon, had expressed the fear that the ruffians might succeed in finding and releasing their chief. "After the fashion of his ancestors, he has scalped the man whom he wished to punish. I tell you, we're living in the midst of savagery." A few minutes later, on leaving the wreck, they saw Antonio who was talking to Dolores near the spot where the submarine strengthened the former line of defence. Dolores was holding her horse by the bridle. The Indian was making gestures and seemed to be greatly excited. "She's going away," said the officer. "I've signed a safe-conduct for her." Simon crossed the arena and went up to her: "You're going, Dolores?" "Yes." "Where?" "Where my horse chooses to take me . . . and as far as he can carry me." "Won't you wait a few minutes?" "No." "I should have liked to thank you. . . . So would Miss Bakefield. . . ." "Miss Bakefield has my best wishes!" She mounted. Antonio snatched at the bridle, as though determined to detain her, and began to speak to her in a choking voice and in a language which Simon did not understand. She did not move. Her beautiful, austere face did not change. She waited, with her eyes on the horizon, until the Indian, discouraged, released the bridle. Then she rode away. Not once had her eyes met Simon's. She rode away, mysterious and secretive to the last. Simon's refusal, his conduct during the night which they had passed in the prehistoric dwelling must have humiliated her profoundly; and the best proof was this departure without farewell. But, on the other hand, what miracles of dogged heroism she must have wrought to cross this sinister region by herself and to save not only the man who had spurned her but the woman whom that man loved above all things in this world! A hand rested on Simon's shoulder: "You, Isabel!" he said. "Yes. . . . I was over there, a little farther on. . . . I saw Dolores go." The girl seemed to hesitate. At length, she murmured, watching him attentively: "You didn't tell me she was so strikingly beautiful, Simon." He felt slightly embarrassed. Looking her straight in the eyes, he replied: "I had no occasion to tell you, Isabel." At five o'clock that afternoon, the French and British troops being now in touch, it was decided that Lord Bakefield and his daughter should make part of an English convoy which was returning to Hastings and which had a motor-ambulance at its disposal. Simon took leave of them, after asking Lord Bakefield's permission to call on him at an early date.