Captain Forest had taken quarters at the Posada for an indefinite period; at least until he learned the whereabouts of his friend, Dick Yankton, who had accompanied him on his former expeditions.

He had been aroused at an early hour by the cackling of affrighted fowl and the voices and footsteps of peons as they came and went in the patio, their jests and laughter mingling with snatches of song. Not being able to sleep, he arose, and after a hasty toilet, stepped out upon the veranda, bright with the morning sunlight. Save for his presence, the place was deserted; the empty chairs standing about just as their occupants of the previous evening had left them, a proof that he was the first of the guests to be abroad.

"I wonder where Dick is?" he soliloquized, leisurely descending the veranda steps and turning into the pathway that led to the garden at the rear of the house and thence to the corrals, whither he directed his steps for a look at his horse to see whether he had been properly cared for during the night. As he disappeared around the corner of the house, a woman turned in from the highroad and paused before the Inn beneath the great cottonwood encircled by the bench.

She was tall and slender and on one arm carried a basket of eggs concealed beneath a layer of freshly cut roses; Padre Antonio's annual birthday tribute to the SeÑora. Her heavy blue-black hair, loosely caught up at the back of the neck and adorned with a bunch of pink passion flowers nestled about her neck and shoulders, on one of which was perched a small white dove that fluttered and cooed. From out the midst of the passion flowers shone a faint glint of silver.

Her dull white shirt waist, low at the neck and with sleeves rolled back to the elbows, exposed her long, slender neck and well rounded forearms which, like her face, were a rich red bronze. A faded orange kerchief, loosely knotted, encircled her neck; the ends thrust carelessly into her breast. Her soft mauve saya, worn and patched and looped up at one side, disclosing a faded blue petticoat underneath, fell to her ankles, displaying a pair of small feet encased in dull blue stockings and low black shoes.

Depositing the basket on the bench, she extended her right hand upon the back of which the dove immediately hopped, cooing and fluttering as before.

"Cara mia!" she murmured fondly, raising it to her lips, kissing it and caressing it gently against her cheek.

"What wouldst thou—thou greedy little Jaquino? Knowest not thou hast had one more berry than thy sweet little Jaquina?" But the dove only continued to flutter and coo on her hand.

"Hearest thou not," she continued, "she already calls thee!" And extending her lips, between which she had inserted a fresh berry, the dove eagerly seized and devoured it.

"Ah, querida mia!" she murmured softly, kissing it again. "Now fly away quickly like a good little Jaquino before some wicked seÑor comes to catch thee for his breakfast!" And tossing the dove lightly into the air with an "Á Dios," it hovered over her head for an instant, then flew straight away over the old Posada back to Padre Antonio's garden where its mate awaited it.

A sigh escaped her as she watched the flight of the bird. How free of the cares and responsibilities of the world the winged creatures seemed. She turned to the bench once more and was in the act of picking up her basket, when her attention was suddenly arrested by the sound of footsteps close at hand, and wheeling around, she came face to face with Captain Forest.

The little cry of surprise that escaped her interrupted the Captain's meditations who, with eyes cast on the ground, might otherwise have walked straight into her.

"A thousand pardons, SeÑorita!" he exclaimed in Spanish, stopping abruptly and raising his hat.

"I—" He paused as her full gaze met his which to his surprise was almost on a level with his own. What a face! Could his sensations have been analyzed, they might have coincided with those of Padre Antonio's on beholding his protegÉe when she stepped from the stagecoach on her return from the convent.

The broad sweep of her brow, her penetrating gaze, her straight nose, high cheek bones and delicately molded lips and chin and grace of her supple, sinuous body, together with the picturesqueness of her costume, presented a picture of striking beauty.

"Why," he continued abruptly, "you are the woman that danced at Carlos Moreno's! The SeÑorita Chiquita about whom the whole town is talking!"

"Ah! you saw me dance, SeÑor?" she asked, betraying a slight embarrassment.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world! Such a performance—I—" again he paused, regarding her intently. "Do you know, SeÑorita, all the while I watched you dance there seemed to be something familiar about you. It seemed as though I had seen you somewhere before."

"Yes?" she queried, her dark eyes glowing and a faint flush mounting to her cheeks.

"Yes," he answered. "Ever since then I have been trying to think where it could have been. Ah!" he exclaimed, stepping backwards and eyeing her critically. "Just turn your head that way again. There, that's it! I knew I had seen you before! Do you remember the night we met a year ago on the trail below La Jara?"

A smile parted her full rose-red lips, displaying her pearly teeth. "I remember it well, SeÑor," she answered, casting down her eyes for an instant. "I recognized you the instant I saw you."

"Strange," he muttered half to himself. Then, after a rather embarrassing silence, he said: "That was a fine horse you rode. Do you live here at the Posada, SeÑorita?"

"No. I live with Padre Antonio."

"Padre Antonio? Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, recalling the conversation at Pedro Romero's gambling hall. "Tell me," he continued, "who is Padre Antonio?"

"Ah! I see you have not been long in Santa FÉ, SeÑor, else you must have heard something about him. Everybody knows Padre Antonio—he is our priest."

"Both you and he must have been absent when I was here before, otherwise I must have met you," he answered.

At this moment the tall figure of a man, dressed in a suit of light gray material with a soft felt hat to match, appeared in the doorway of the Inn. His eyes, like his hair and mustache, were dark brown. His hands were long and slender and delicate as a woman's, yet there was nothing effeminate in his appearance. His strong, sensitive features and roving, piercing eyes and alert carriage indicated courage and energy.

He paused as he caught sight of the two figures before him. Then, with an exclamation of surprise, he stepped quickly out on to the veranda. "Jack!" he exclaimed. "When did you get here?"

Turning swiftly, Captain Forest saw Dick Yankton standing before him. "Dick!" he cried, and rushing up the veranda steps, seized him by both hands. "I've been wondering where I would find you! You evidently didn't get my letter?"

"No," replied his companion. "I only returned from the mountains late last night. It's probably waiting for me here."

"The SeÑores know one another?" interrupted Chiquita, also ascending the veranda.

"Know one another? SeÑorita, we are brothers," said Dick.

"Brothers?" she echoed, surprised and perplexed.

"Yes, SeÑorita, all but in name," interposed the Captain.

"Ah! I see. Brothers in fortune!"

"Exactly," replied Dick. "But what is all this I hear concerning your doings, SeÑorita? I'd have given my best horse to have seen you dance, but, as you see, I'm too late. A pretty nest of hornets you've stirred up in the old place," he continued. "Why, last evening I met the Navaros on the road on their way home and they wouldn't let me pass until they had told me how wicked you were. SeÑora Navaro even crossed herself and said an ave at the first mention of your name."

"Ah," she sighed, then laughed unconcernedly. "I'm afraid I've been very naughty, SeÑor." Then suddenly recollecting her mission, she exclaimed: "I almost forgot why I came here this morning. I'm the bearer of Padre Antonio's gift and greetings to the SeÑora. It's her birthday, you know."

"Her birthday? I wonder she still dares have them!" exclaimed Dick.

"She does, nevertheless," laughed Chiquita; and brushing back the roses in her basket with a sweep of the hand, she disclosed the eggs beneath. "Look," she continued. "Padre Antonio's gift! Are they not beautiful—just fresh from the hens! You had better have some for your breakfast, SeÑor," she added.

"By all the Saints in the calendar, they are pearls, every one of them!" returned Dick enthusiastically, eyeing the contents of the basket. "Thrice blessed be thy hens, SeÑorita! We'll have eggs with our chocolate out here on the veranda!"

"I thought so!" came a sharp voice from the other side of the doorway just behind them, "as usual, talking with the SeÑores!" and SeÑora Fernandez, with flushed cheeks and a spiteful gleam in her eyes which she took no pains to conceal, stepped from the door into the light.

"Buenas dias, DoÑa Fernandez!" said Chiquita, unabashed by the SeÑora's sudden appearance and onslaught, "may the day bring you many blessings! Look! Padre Antonio's greetings," and she held up the basket for the SeÑora's benefit. Then, with a subtle sarcasm which she knew would avenge her amply for the SeÑora's unprovoked attack, she said: "I stopped to inquire what the SeÑores would have for their breakfast. They say they will have eggs with their chocolate."

"Indeed! Eggs and chocolate—chocolate and eggs!" angrily retorted the SeÑora, "just as though one didn't know what everybody takes for breakfast!" But without waiting for her to finish, Chiquita vanished through the doorway with her basket; her low laughter, followed by a snatch of song just audible from within, serving to increase the SeÑora's irritation.

"Holy God! I sometimes think the devil is inside of that girl!" she exclaimed, vexed beyond measure.

"Ah, but what a sweet one!" laughed Dick. "I wouldn't mind being possessed of the same myself."

"Bah, SeÑor! you talk like a fool!" she retorted. "I pray you, do not think too poorly of us, SeÑor Capitan," she continued in an apologetic tone, turning to Captain Forest. "I assure you, all the women in Santa FÉ are not so bold as the SeÑorita Chiquita."

"No, most of them are a tame lot!" broke in Dick, secretly enjoying the SeÑora's discomfiture.

"Caramba! your speech grows more foolish as you talk, SeÑor!" returned the SeÑora in a tone of intense disgust. "I see, you too have fallen under her spell. They say she has the evil-eye, SeÑor Capitan," she went on, addressing the Captain again.

"Evil-eye—ha, ha! What next?" laughed Dick.

"Blood of the Saints! I'll no longer waste my time with you, SeÑor!" and with an angry swish of her skirt, she turned and disappeared in the house.