Pushing on until dawn, they found a small, deserted hacienda standing back from the road, and as tall forest grew close up to it, offering a line of retreat, they decided to rest there. The mule looked jaded. Blanca admitted that she could not go much farther, and Walthew was obviously worn out. They could find nothing to eat; but there was some furniture in the house, and Blanca found a place to sleep in one of the rooms, while the men lay down on a rug outside. The sun was now rising above the high cordillera and, wet with the dew as they were, they enjoyed the warmth. A few lizards crept about the wall in front of them, and an archway near by commanded a view of the road. The building was in good order, and had apparently been abandoned on the approach of the President's soldiers.
"These people know what to expect; they must have been ready to light out," Walthew remarked. "I rather liked that fellow Carson, but it's curious he didn't ask us anything about our business."
"He'd take it for granted that we had an active part in the revolution."
"No doubt the señorita's being with us would suggest something of the kind, but he seemed surprised at first," Walthew replied with a thoughtful air. "For all that, I can't quite see——"
"No," said Grahame; "I don't think you altogether understand the situation yet. I suppose you mean to marry Miss Sarmiento?"
"Certainly, if she'll have me," Walthew answered with firmness, though he looked at his comrade as if he expected something more.
Grahame smiled.
"Then you're to be congratulated, because you won't have much trouble in getting your wish."
"What do you mean?" Walthew's tone was sharp, but he remembered an incident during his escape from the town. "I'll admit I wasn't quite hopeless, but we were both in danger——"
He broke off, and Grahame regarded him with a friendly laugh.