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Updated: June 22, 2025
And yet in the midst of his satisfaction Sanchez confessed to one trouble. He had expected to find his cousin, Panfilo, here, and the fact that nothing whatever had been heard from him filled him with great uneasiness.
All the rest belonging to the expedition had perished, some having been stoned to death by the natives, and others drowned, among whom was Panfilo de Narvaez, as Figueroa, who was present, related to Cabeza. Among these Indians who fed upon tunas they endured much hunger, as there was not enough for them all.
It had been an easy matter for José Sanchez to secure a leave of absence from Las Palmas, especially since Benito was not a little interested in the unexplained disappearance of Panfilo and work was light at this time.
You are a good man; you have a long life before you." Reading the fellow's black look, she argued: "You think I am taking his part because he is my countryman, but he needs no one to defend him. He will make this whole story public and face the consequences. I like you, and I don't wish to see you come to a worse end than your cousin Panfilo." José continued to glower.
Before God, I have done nothing." The speaker was tremendously excited. "Well, Panfilo, that will take some proving," the Ranger muttered. "What do you say?" The gist of this statement having been repeated in Spanish, both prisoners burst into clamorous explanation of their presence together.
The general bent his bright, keen eyes upon the visitor. "Yes. She gave him the finest horse at Las Palmas, too, and " A new thought presented itself to José. "Ho! By the way, they were alone at the water-hole when my cousin Panfilo was shot. Now that I think of it, they were alone together for a day and a night. I begin to wonder "
He will repeat to you all that I have said, and he is ready to meet the consequences." José was torn with rage, yet plainly a prey to indecision; he rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. "These Rangers!" he muttered. "That is the kind of men they are. They murder honest people." "This was not murder," Alaire cried, sharply. "Panfilo was aiding a felon to escape.
The next instant he had loped into the brush on the tracks of Panfilo Sanchez, spurring the tired gray pony into vigorous action. It was an uncomfortable situation in which Alaire now found herself. Law was too suspicious, she murmured to herself; he was needlessly melodramatic; she felt exceedingly ill at ease as the pony's hoof-beats grew fainter.
José Sanchez made use of the delay at Pueblo to institute further inquiries regarding his missing cousin, but nowhere could he find the slightest trace. Panfilo had set out to ride to this point and thence to La Feria, but the last seen of him had been at the water-hole, one day's ride from the home ranch. At that point the earth had opened and swallowed him.
She wondered if the Ranger's sudden charge had not simply frightened Panfilo into a panicky flight, and she tried to put her thoughts into words the Mexican would understand, but his answer was unintelligible. His black scowl, however, was eloquent of uncertainty and apprehension.
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