CHAPTER XXXII
LOVE'S VISION
It was late when Walthew led Blanca's mule through the rebel camp to the table under a tree where Don Martin sat writing. There was a half moon in the sky, and as they passed between the rows of motionless, dark figures stretched on the ground, here and there an upturned face caught the light and shone a livid white. In places a sentry's form was silhouetted, vague and black, against the sky, but except for this all was wrapped in puzzling shadow, and silence brooded over the camp.
One of Don Martin's staff sat beside the table, smoking a cigarette, another lay asleep near by, but a small lamp burned steadily near the leader's hand, lighting up his grave face against the gloom. He put down his pen and waited when Walthew stopped the mule and helped the girl to dismount.
"I have had the honor of escorting the señorita from Rio Frio, where with her help I got my partner out of the carcel," he said.
"Yes," Don Martin returned in a quiet voice, "I have heard something of this. I am told that you met my daughter at the hacienda Perez. Was it by accident?"
Walthew, remembering Grahame's remarks on the subject, felt embarrassed, for the steadiness of Don Martin's glance was significant.
"Certainly!" he answered. "I had never heard of the hacienda before I reached it. For all that, I would not have kept away if I had known the señorita was there."
"One must acknowledge your frankness," Don Martin remarked. "Well, what happened afterward?"
Walthew looked at Blanca, but she seemed to be smiling as she unfolded her fan, and he began a brief account of their adventures.