Another rift of light in answer to a current of air. One of the prostrate figures was slowly moving toward her, as a fish floats through water without apparent movement or propulsion. Never it hastened, yet never it ceased to come, always nearer, without effort, without pausing.
She shut her teeth and clenched her hands. There was a wild desire to scream, to call for help, to fly out into the open. She did none of these things. The courage of her warrior forbears stood her in stead.
All at once the body ceased its forward motion. Then it moved backward, noiselessly, slowly. It seemed an age until it reached the other figure by the wall. The overflow of the hurricane which now came sweeping through the place invigorated the fire so that it showed the two figures standing flush against the wall and again in earnest consultation. She could tell that they were Indians, not by their dress, for that was indistinct, but by their postures and gestures. Suddenly they were prone on the ground and going, again noiselessly, toward the inner cave.
The wind ceased. The fire decreased to half a dozen separate sparks. Darkness hid the Indians from her eyes. She reached out her hand to waken the dueña, but desisted.
"Why frighten her? Doubtless they are ordinary peons seeking shelter from the storm."
After a while, through very exhaustion, she slept.
Her eyes opened wide almost with a snap and she sat bolt upright. A portion of the fire had been replenished and was flaming up. A low cry forced itself from her lips before she recognized the one by the fire to be Brown. "What is it?" asked the girl.
The dueña awakened from heavy sleep.
"The horses—my horses," she cried, her wits still half slumbering. "The señor said they are safe. What a terrible thing—is the man still standing there? I trust his master will have the impertinent fellow whipped."
Brown felt that some unusual explanation was due from him, though he did not understand a word. Bending over, he placed his hands on his hips and spoke in a mincing way, as if to children.