"A man--See I One of those dirty peladors. Look where he tore my dress!
I warned him, but he was like a tiger. Benito will kill me when he
learns--"
"Calm yourself. Speak sensibly. Tell me what happened."
"One of those miserable soldiers who came today--pig!" Dolores was
shaking, her voice was shrill. "He followed me. He has been drinking.
He followed me about like a cat, purring and grinning and saying the
most horrible things. Just now, when I went to your room, he was
waiting in the darkness and he seized me. God! It was dreadful."
"A soldier? One of my men?" Longorio was incredulous.
Alaire turned upon him with a blazing anger in her face. "Is this more
of your protection?" she stormed. "I give you and your men the freedom
of my ranch, and you insult me while they assault my women."
He ignored her accusation, inquiring of the elder woman, "Who was the
fellow?"
"How do I know," Dolores sobbed. "He is a--a thick, black fellow with a
scar on his lip, like a snarl."
"Felipe!"
"Yes, Felipe! I believe they called him that."
Longorio strode to the end of the livingroom, flung open the wooden
shutters of a window and, leaning far out, whistled sharply on his
fingers.
"Oiga! Teniente! Ho, you fellows!" he shouted.
From the darkness a voice answered; a man, evidently on guard, came
running.
"Call old Pancho," the general directed. "Tell him to bring me black
Felipe, the fellow with the torn lip. Quick!"
"Yes, general," came the voice; then the metallic rattle of spurs and
accoutrements as the sentry trotted away.
Dolores had completely broken down now, and Alaire was trying to
comfort her. Their guest remained by the window, frowning. After a time
there sounded a murmur of voices, then a shuffling of feet in the hall;
Alaire's friend, the old lieutenant, appeared in the doorway, saluting.
Behind him were several others.
"Here is Felipe," he announced.
"Bring him in."
A sullen, frowning man in soiled uniform was pushed forward, and
Dolores hid her face against her mistress's shoulder.
"Is this the fellow?" Longorio inquired.
Dolores nodded.
"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" The general transfixed his
trooper with a stare; then, as the latter seemed bereft of his voice,
"Why did you enter this house?"
Felipe moistened his scarred lips. "That woman is--nice and clean.
She's not so old, either, when you come to look at her." He grinned at
his comrades, who had crowded in behind old Pancho.
"So! Let us go outside and learn more about this." Longorio waved his
men before him and followed them out of the room and down the hall and
into the night.
When a moment or two had dragged past, Dolores quavered. "What are they
going to do with him?"
"I don't know. Anyhow, you need not fear--"
There sounded the report of a gunshot, deadened indeed by the thick
adobe walls of the house, yet sudden and loud enough to startle the
women.
When Longorio reappeared he found Alaire standing stiff and white
against the wall, with Dolores kneeling, her face still buried in her
mistress's gown.
"Give yourself no concern," he told them, quickly. "I beg a thousand
pardons for Felipe. Henceforth no one will molest you."
"Was that a--shot?" Alaire inquired faintly.
"Yes. It is all settled."
"You killed him?"
The general nodded. "Purely for the sake of discipline--one has to be
firm. Now your woman is badly frightened. Send her away so that we may
reach an understanding."
"Oh-h! This is frightful," Alaire gasped. "I can't talk to you. Go--Let
me go."
The man pondered for an instant. "Perhaps that would be better," he
agreed, reluctantly, "for I see you, too, are unstrung. Very well! My
affairs will have to wait. Take a few hours to think over what I have
told you. When you have slept you will feel differently about me. You
will meet me with a smile, eh?" He beamed hopefully.
"Sleep? You expect me to sleep?"
"Please," he begged. "Beauty is like a delicate flower, and sleep is
the dew that freshens it. Believe me, you can rest in all security, for
no one can come or go without my consent. You are cruel to postpone my
delight; nevertheless, I yield to your feelings. But, star of my life,
I shall dream of you, and of that little priest who waits with the key
of Paradise in his hands."
He bowed over Alaire's cold fingers, then stood erect until she and
Dolores had gone.