"One moment, Miss Van Ashton," he said, as she was about to take the lead. He turned and gave a shrill whistle. His horse which had been feeding quietly the while on the grass a short distance from them, raised his head at the sound, and giving a low whinny, came trotting up to them.
"Won't you ride?" he asked, turning to her. "He's quite gentle."
"No," she answered rather curtly, "I prefer to walk."
"Just as you say," he answered in a tone of complete submission, taking his place quietly by her side.
"No—not that way!" she said. "We'll keep the horse's head between us."
XVI
There had been no more shooting or attempts at murder. The mail began to arrive from home, and Colonel Van Ashton and Mrs. Forest began to breathe easier.
Life at the old Posada had settled down once more to its accustomed calm and routine. The sun shone benignly and the birds sang daily in the garden where the guests were wont to pass the greater part of the day. The gay little songsters were a veritable revelation to them—especially to the Colonel. How could such gentle creatures go on singing with such indifference to the future in a land where life was held so cheap and all things so uncertain?
Blanch had turned a deaf ear to the others' entreaties to return home at once. The more they talked, the firmer she became, and finally, taking matters into her own hands, settled the question by telegraphing home for the twenty trunks of clothes she left there on her departure.
"Can't you see," she said by way of explanation, "how disastrous it would be to leave Jack alone in this country with that—"