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Miller, however, turned in at the house and disappeared. Pachuca spent five minutes at the window watching, but he did not reappear. "Ah well, one must risk something!" he mused, and glanced down at the sleeping Yellow. Cautiously and with the soft step of one who has learned the wisdom of a silent tread, the young man slid down the stairway.
He pretended not to see us." "Where'd they go?" demanded Scott, with the dryness in his tone which always appeared when Pachuca was mentioned. "Out of town past the church. I'm going up to tell Polly what she's missed," said Clara, as she ran up the narrow little stairway. "Girls have changed not a doubt about it," she thought, whimsically.
He saw women, babies, and household goods loaded upon his good horse-flesh and disappearing down the road. Scott's blood boiled. His impulse was to shoot Juan Pachuca without warning. He raised his arm and then he paused. One does not shoot men in the back easily unless one is used to doing it. At that moment a Mexican saw him and yelled. Instantly everyone saw him.
He was in hiding somewhere down yonder, and yet the party was on her mind and she noticed it as it broke up and the men passed out of the dining-room. She caught a side view of the suspected one it was Pachuca, without a doubt. Whether he saw her or not she could not say but if he did he avoided showing it.
Such is a fair picture of California in its worst estate, when the worst and the best of all nations were there congregated, and kept in subjection by the law-abiding spirit of an Anglo-Saxon immigration a state of society in the first year of its existence, yet infinitely superior to that existing in the city of Mexico a hundred years after the discovery of the mines of Haxal and Pachuca.
Obediently Pachuca swung into the next speed and the car bumped cheerfully along, the big lights casting a bewildering glare before them. "If I only knew where we were and what he has up his sleeve!" the girl groaned inwardly. "I know he has something because he isn't making any fuss. This road is rougher than it was when we came, too; he has taken a wrong turn I know he has!"
He sat in Hard's office chair by the window, closed now, for the night was cool, and drummed impatiently upon the arm of it. Mentally, Pachuca was more than impatient; he was outraged. His plans had been spoiled, his liberty restricted and his dignity impaired. He had been made to look ridiculous. Of all the offenses against him the latter was the most serious.
Pachuca thought the second figure looked like Miller, the man who had brought his blankets, but he was not sure. By this time the dog had stopped barking and was following the two men. Pachuca stood in the window, waiting developments. Scott looked up with evident relief. "You're there, are you?" he said. "So it appears," disgustedly. "Am I a cat to scramble out of a window?"
Everything looked ghostly and unreal to her in the half light, while Pachuca, she firmly believed, could see in the dark with those handsome eyes of his quite as well as any family cat out for a run. "Go faster, please," she said, sharply, for wherever they were going it might be as well to get there before dark. "It's getting late and I'm cold."
Coming over the top of a hilly rise, a little way below, was a man on a horse then a second and a third, and finally a line of riders, so long a line that it suggested a regiment! Polly's mind worked quickly. There was but one explanation; Angel Gonzales was in the neighborhood, was on his way to rendezvous with Juan Pachuca, and without doubt this was Angel Gonzales, and these were his men.
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