The treacherous sand again and the black dark! But they crept along together. Then suddenly the boy's courage gave way and he clung to the cloaked figure, sobbing:
"Señorita! Señorita! I am afraid!"
The señorita was trembling, too, and her voice broke as she whispered:
"You and I don't make very good heroes, do we?"
They had come to a standstill and were clinging together in the dark. Suddenly there was a sound of something approaching—-the velvet tread of an unshod pony in the sand!
The rider passed.
When they breathed again the señorita took him strongly by the shoulders.
"Riego," she whispered—and there was no break in her voice now—"we must separate. One of us must go straight to the ford and warn the patrol, the other to camp."
"But it is near the ford that Pacheco is hiding," the boy replied.
"I'll go to the ford," she said simply.