For an instant she let her gaze rest in his, the subdued crimson of her
cheeks triumphant over the olive. But the color was not of
embarrassment, and in her eyes shone the spirit of a descendant of old
Don Alvaro de Valdes y Castillo. She sat her mount superbly; as jimp and
erect as a willow sapling.
"You received a message from me this morning, sir," she said haughtily.
"Yes, Miss Valdes; I received a message from you this morning and
answered it. This afternoon I received one from one of your friends; but
I haven't answered that yet."
As he spoke he let his eyes fall upon the hat in his hand.
Hers followed his, and she started in spite of herself.
"Did--did--were you shot at?" she asked, with dilating eyes.
"Oh, well! He didn't hit me. It's not worth mentioning."
"Not worth mentioning? Who did it, sir? I demand to know who did it?"
He hesitated as he picked his words.
"You see--well--he was behind a rock, and not very close, at that."
"But you knew him. I demand his name. He shall be punished. I myself
will see to that."
"I'll do what punishing needs to be done, Miss Valdes. Much obliged to
you, just the same."
Her eyes flashed.
"You forget, sir, that they are my people. I gave orders--the very
strictest orders. I told them that, no matter what you did or how far
you went, you were not to be molested.
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