CHAPTER XVI
The dark was falling when the two girls reached the sheep-herders' cabin in Trabuco. José, the boy with the pack-mules and the led horse, had arrived before them, and, shaking with fear, had built a fire with which to banish the threatening shadows. No herders were there, and to stay in the isolated cañon with the mule and mustang was not to his taste. José belonged to the Mission garden work, or the driving of the cows to pasture, and had little relish for the adventurous life of the ranges. He appreciated not at all the confidence placed in him by the laughing Doña Ana.
But Ana had no desire to trust an older man, even an Indian, and when they reached the cabin she delighted his soul by giving him a gold piece, the first he had ever earned, and telling him to go straight back to San Juan; and unless he wanted his own ears to wear on a string around his neck, he was to utter no word of having seen any one at the sheep-herders' cabin. His task was over when he left the provisions and extra horses there.
Glad enough to escape so easily from the prospect of a night where wild cats and mountain lions were no strangers, José not only promised, but swore by the Virgin and Jesusita that no one at San Juan should be the wiser for his having seen the ladies in that devil of a cañon. If they never came out alive, he would confess to the padre before All Souls' Day, but until then not a word would they get from him even by whippings and salt water!
Despite the fervor of his protestations, Ana rode up the terrace of the mesa, and sat there watching the trail along the creek until she saw him cross far below, a moving dot against the yellow stretch of sand, and knew that he was indeed moved by winged fear and had none of the courage for spy's work.
Raquel watched the first star break through the blue, and knew that, if he was alive, somewhere in the width of California a man watched it also, and shut out for one brief instant any crowding humanity surrounding him. It seemed a very far-away thing, this tryst of the star, and never—never, any day of her life, durst she dream of bringing it closer.
Ana found her huddled in the crooked white arm of a great aliso tree, and regarded with dismay the quivering shoulders and face hidden against the white bark.