“Where?” he repeated.
“On a trail, señor.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“Where?”
“At the place where the Soledad trail leaves that of Mesa Blanca.”
Rotil stared at her, and then turned to Kit.
“Do you know of this thing?”
“No, General, I don’t,” he said honestly enough, “but these women have many such–––”
“No,” contradicted Rotil, “they haven’t,––there’s a difference.”