"I hate Pablo. He is wicked. I will never speak to him again," moaned Juanita helplessly.
Manuel, coming out of the post-office with his mail, looked at the weeping girl incuriously. It was, he happened to know, a habit of the sex to cry over trifles.
Juanita found in a little nod from Miss Valdés permission to leave. She turned and walked hurriedly away to the adobe cabin where she slept. Before she reached it the walk had become a run.
"Has the young woman lost a ribbon or a lover?" commented Pesquiera, with a smile.
"Manuel, I am worried," answered Valencia irrelevantly.
"What about, my cousin?"
"It's this man Gordon again. Juanita says that Pablo and Sebastian have gone to kill him."
"Gone where?"
"To Santa Fé. They asked for a leave of absence. You know how sullen and suspicious Sebastian is. It is fixed firmly in his head that Mr. Gordon is going to take away his farm."
Manuel's black eyes snapped. He did not propose to let any peons steal from him the punishment he owed this insolent Gordon.