An Indian warrior appeared.
"Let a toldo be prepared for me; I cede this to the two paleface women," he said, in the Apache language; "a body of chosen braves, whom my brother will command, will watch incessantly over their safety. Woe to him who fails in the profoundest respect! These women are sacred; free to come and go, and to receive whomsoever they choose. Does my brother understand?"
The warrior bowed his head without reply.
"Let my brother have two horses ready."
The Indian disappeared.
"You see, señorita," he continued, turning towards her, "you are queen here."
"I thank you!" said Doña Hermosa, drawing from her bosom an open letter she had prepared for the occasion; "I felt sure of the result of my interview with you: you see, I have announced it to my father, even before I met you. Take this, Don Torribio, and read what I have written."
She held it out to him with a charming smile, but an inward misgiving.
"Señorita," he replied, motioning the letter away, "what a daughter writes to her father should be sacred; no one but himself should read it."
Doña Hermosa folded up the letter, without evincing the least emotion at the terrible risk she had just run, and gave it to Manuela.