They found the Mexican sitting on the steps of the front veranda when they finished dinner.
“Why,” exclaimed Curtis with hearty interest, “he’s the same chap that told me my mare was stolen. I hope you can ride and throw a rope; I’m obliged to you already, and I’d like to do you a good turn. I’ll meet you down town presently, and if you know anything about the business I’ll take you behind me on my mare to the ranch to-night, and you can go to work in the morning.”
The moon had just risen, and its huge white disk seemed to be resting on the plain only a little way beyond the town. Its brilliant silvery light was already working weird transformations in the landscape.
“Oh, are you going to ride home to-night, through this wonderful moonlight!” Lucy exclaimed. “How I envy you!”
“Yes,” he answered, lowering his voice and speaking in a tone different from any she had before heard from his lips; “and it is indeed a wonderful ride! I don’t know anything more impressive than the landscape of this country under a marvellous moon, like that over there. I hope we can have a ride by moonlight together, some time, when the moon is full. Does Miss Dent ride?” His voice went back to its usual tone. “I know your father is a fine rider. Perhaps we can make up a party some night, when I don’t have to hurry home. I expect my brother here this Summer, to spend his vacation with me. You and Miss Dent will like him, I’m sure, for he’s a fine lad. I hope we can all have some pleasant excursions together.”
At the sound of his softened voice Lucy felt herself swept by sudden emotion, and hastily put her hands behind her lest he should see that they were trembling. And later that night, when she looked out from her window at the white moon floating in the violet sky, suddenly her nerves went a-quiver again and her eyes sought the far, dim plain as she softly whispered, “Under a marvellous moon, like that over there!”
The Mexican asked Bancroft how to reach the place where Conrad was to meet him, and the banker walked to the gate and pointed out the streets he was to follow. As he finished Gonzalez bent a keen gaze upon him and asked, significantly, “Has the señor further instructions for me?”
Bancroft’s start and the shade of annoyance that crossed his face as he realized that it had been noticed were not lost upon the man, whose searching look was still on him. His equanimity had been well tried already that evening, and this sudden touch upon a half-formed and most secret desire startled him for an instant out of his usual self-control. Heretofore he had merely dallied with the thought that Conrad’s removal would mean his own safety, for the rest of his life. It had appeared to him merely as something the consequences of which would be desirable. His hand could not be concerned in it, he wished to know nothing about it—but if Baxter thought best—to further his own ends—why had the Mexican come to him with this impudent question?
“I’m not hiring you,” was his curt answer.