“It is well. Senorita, if you will come in here you will find food, such as it is. There are blankets, also, if you need rest.”
But she hung back. She feared to enter that strange, yawning hole with this man, even if he did look and act like an honest man.
“My pony, Dimple,” she said, hesitatingly. “I am afraid she will go astray.”
“Never fear, senorita—I will bring her back to you, if she does.”
“But—but—”
“Ah I perceive, senorita—you wrong me. I have been too long a companion and servant of my kind master in Mexico—Senor Martinez—to harm a lady. I—”
“Why! are you the Pedro that lives at that grand old place? Why, our farm was quite close to it! My father is Mr. Wheeler.”
“Ah! then I am fortunate in having an opportunity to serve you. Your party is on their way north, is it not?”
“Yes, sir. Do you know any of them?”
“Only Simpson, the guide. He is an old friend of mine. Many is the time we have fled from Apaches. I started from the hacienda on the morning you started for the north. I saw your party, several days ago, down on the Santa Cruz river.”