Cynthia nodded her head. There was a way out of the trouble, to be sure. But, on the other hand, she would have to say why she wished the man to go. At the recital of her story Mr. and Mrs. Daventry would be excited and alarmed. She herself would henceforth be surrounded with precautions. She determined to say nothing at all about her adventure. She would be careful during this month where she roamed. The man would be at work and it would be easy to avoid him. She gathered the reins again in her hands and drove to the house. CHAPTER VI A VISITOR AT THE ESTANCIA Cynthia accordingly held her tongue. Nevertheless, that evening Richard Walton said to her across the dinner table: "So you were, after all, molested by one of the hands, Miss Cynthia." "Molested!" cried Robert Daventry indignantly. Cynthia's face flamed. "Who told you?" she asked of Richard Walton. "Pedro." Cynthia had not thought of the Gaucho. He had seemed so entirely uninterested, so utterly unalarmed. "'Molested' is too strong a word," she said hastily. She now meant to make as light of the encounter as she possibly could. "It was very likely my fault. I got out of the trap and walked toward the wheat. It may be that the man fancied I wished to speak to him." "What did he do?" The question came from Joan Daventry. "He sprang from his seat, ran to me, and stopped in front of me. That was all." "Quite all?" Cynthia nodded. "He just stood and stared at me until Pedro drove up." "Did he say nothing?" "Not a word." In spite of her resolve to treat the adventure lightly, Cynthia's voice grew troubled as she answered the questions. For she answered them with her eyes upon Joan Daventry's face, and she saw the perplexity there deepen into disquietude and misgiving. She turned toward Robert Daventry. Upon his face uneasiness was still more evident. He was plainly agitated. He sat listening in suspense. His indignation had gone. Cynthia's fear revived under the stimulation of their anxiety. She continued slowly: "But although he did me no harm, although he threatened none, there was something strange. He saw me at once. He ran so very quickly to me the moment I was within reach. He seemed almost to be looking out for me." Joan sank back into her chair with a gesture of helplessness, which was all the more alarming because it was so singularly out of keeping with her character. Her eyes sought her husband's and sought them in dismay. Cynthia noticed both the gesture and the look. They kindled a vague terror in the girl. The wide brown plain was as a picture before her. She saw the great wheat-field glistening in the heat, a wind-wheel in a corner above a well, and this man with the evil eyes and the face of malice looking her over from head to foot. "Yes," she said. "He seemed to be expecting me, and there was something else. He seemed to hate me;" and Robert Daventry with a cry sprang sharply to his feet.