“Then you’ve come from his place, direct? Pardon me for appearing rude. I assure you, miss, we are not questioning you out of any idle curiosity, or impertinence. We have serious reasons—more than serious: they are solemn.”
“From the Hacienda Martinez direct,” answers Isidora, without appearing to notice the last remark. “Two hours ago—un pocito mas—my uncle’s house I leave.”
“Then, no doubt, you have heard that there has been a—murder—committed?”
“Si, señor. Yesterday at uncle Silvio’s it was told.”
“But to-day—when you left—was there any fresh news in the Settlement? We’ve had word from there; but not so late as you may bring. Have you heard anything, miss?”
“That people were gone after the asesinado. Your party, señor?”
“Yes—yes—it meant us, no doubt. You heard nothing more?”
“Oh, yes; something very strange, señores; so strange, you may think I am jesting.”
“What is it?” inquire a score of voices in quick simultaneity; while the eyes of all turn with eager interest towards the fair equestrian.
“There is a story of one being seen without a head—on horseback—out here too. Valga me Dios! we must now be near the place? It was by the Nueces—not far from the ford—where the road crosses for the Rio Grande. So the vaqueros said.”