Presently the American turned and strolled slowly back toward the rancho. Slipping Roderick's rein over the post at the angle, the lieutenant followed. Keeping close to the wall, the stranger led the way, all unconscious of pursuit or observation, yet when he reached the next corner, whence could be seen the night lights of the rancho and the far-away gleam of the camp fire, out toward the Gila, he stopped and peered cautiously around.
Mindful of the evil fame that hung about the premises, Adriance halted too and waited. The next moment his heart beat hard. A woman's voice—soft, silvery and young—had accosted the stranger. It was Isabel's.
“You have sent my brother away again, when he had but just returned. Why is this, senor? Whither has he gone?”
“Never mind about Leon, Belita,” said the American, soothingly, “he's all right. He has simply ridden over to let Captain Rawlins know of our mishap.”
“It is not true, senor! I heard him speak to my father. It is to Sancho and to Manuel he rides, and for no good. To what new crime do you lead him? Why are they all gone? Why are we alone here this night? Why——”
“Don't be a fool, girl,” said the man curtly, as he took her by the wrist. “Come, Leon's gone. Come back to the house.”
“He has not gone. He promised me he would not go from me without a word to-night. The moment I saw you I knew that trouble would come, and I warned him when he returned. You have made him wicked—you Americanos. You are all——'