“Dead, señorita.”
“But you——? Why have they let you live, Rojerio Rocha? They will torture?”
“I already have informed you that no harm shall come to you if you are obedient.”
“And, to be obedient——?”
“Is to remain in this room, señorita, and you, señora, until you are told you may depart elsewhere. Food will be fetched you regularly; you may have anything you wish. Be not afraid of the Indians in the patio and surrounding the house. They are not a menace—they are here for protection.”
“Protection?” sneered the señora.
“Your protection—and yours, señorita—and mine.”
“Yours?” the women cried.
“What mean you?” the señora demanded, as an afterthought.
“That these Indians call me master. Do you understand? That I am their commanding officer. That the time to drop the mask has come, señora, and you may consider the mask dropped. To-night and to-morrow we prepare; to-morrow night we take the mission and presidio. After that the other things will follow—every rancho and village will be visited.”