“Antonio––fiddles!” retorted the other, contemptuously. Then saw, to his surprise, that Ferd’s head had dropped upon that of his strange steed and that he was whimpering and sobbing in a pitiful fashion, well calculated to deceive the unwary. 190 It was at this juncture that, fancying to see her beloved Buster made ready for her ride, Jessica ran singing into the stable, and paused amazed at sight of Ferd, weeping, and so oddly mounted. Horses there were galore in the Sobrante stables and pastures, but never one like this; so white, so spirited, and yet so marvelously marked. For even by the daylight, there in the slight shadow of the wall, the animal’s eyes glowed with an unearthly light, terrifying to Natan and startling even to her fearless self. Indeed it had not been until the moment of her appearance and Buster’s whinnied welcome, that Ferd’s horse had turned its face toward them and revealed his curious visage.
“Why, Ferdinand Bernal!” she cried, giving him his full title, and thereby mystifying still further the wondering groom. “I do believe that’s the very creature that’s been scaring such a lot of people everywhere! How came you by it and what ails its eyes?”
Ferd lifted a face that was grimy with dirt and streaked with tears. His misery was evident and needed no words to impress it upon the tenderhearted girl, who ran to the window, begging:
“What is the matter, Ferd? Poor Ferd! are you ill? In trouble? What?”
“The death. It is the accursed house. Where death comes once––he is always there. He told me––you must come. Come; now, right away, si. Before––too late. He said it. Antonio, my brother.”
“You know that, then––about your relationship? But what has happened to him?”
The dwarf glanced at Natan and motioned to her to send him away. For reasons of his own, the groom was glad enough to obey, because dire had 191 been the threats of the mighty-fisted Samson, as well as the stern John Benton, against any on that ranch who should be caught “consorting with that low-lived Ferd or the late manager.” Besides, in spite of Jessica’s apparent indifference to the glowing eyes of the white horse they infected him with a horrible fear; so he made his escape at the first chance; leading Nimrod around to the house and tying him there to await Ninian’s pleasure, while he himself resorted to the most distant and safest spot he could find. This had seemed, in his mind, the mission corridor; but he found it already occupied by a party of the ranchmen who had no desire for his society, and after a short delay frankly told him so. It was in passing from this ancient structure to his own room in another building that he had been intercepted by John, and called to account.
Yet, sometime before this, Jessica had finished her interview with the unhappy Ferd; had written her note of explanation to Ninian, though keeping her destination secret, as the hunchback implored, in accordance with Antonio’s wish; had dispatched her message by Ned and Luis; and, unknown to them, had rapidly ridden away in company with the white horse and her treacherous guide––to comfort the dying.
That death should have come again to the cabin on the mesa, whither she was led, seemed natural enough to her; remembering with such keen sorrow the passing of old Pedro.
And for once Antonio Bernal had told the truth. Lying helpless, almost motionless, on the narrow bed in the shepherd’s home, he greeted his visitor with a pitiful smile on his white face, and a tone from which the last vestige of his old bravado had departed: 192 “The Captain! si. You did well to come, my Lady Jess. But you are not afraid?”