“Of course.  But I must go on.  I have Dolores and Jose to look after me.”  Alaire indicated Sanchez, who had edged his way close and now stood with admiring eyes fixed upon his hero.

“Yes, ’mi General,” Jose exclaimed, eagerly, “I am here.”

Longorio scrutinized the horse-breaker critically.  “Your name is—?”

“Jose Sanchez.”

“You look like a brave fellow.”

Jose swelled at this praise, and no doubt would have made suitable answer, but his employer held out her hand, and General Longorio bent over it, raising it to his lips.

“Senora, one favor you can grant me.  No!  It is a right I shall claim.”  He called one of his subordinates closer and ordered that a lieutenant and six soldiers be detached to act as an escort to Mrs. Austin’s party.  “It is nothing,” he assured her.  “It is the least I can do.  Have no uneasiness, for these men are the bravest of my command, and they shall answer with their lives for your safety.  As for that teniente—­ah, he is favored above his general!” Longorio rolled his eyes.  “Think of it!  I could be faithless to duty—­a traitor to my country—­for the privilege he is to enjoy.  It is the sacred truth!  Senora, the hours will drag until I may see you again and be of further service.  Meanwhile I shall be tortured with radiant dreams.  Go with God!” For a second time he bowed and kissed the hand he held, then, taking Jose Sanchez intimately by the arm, he turned to the door.

Dolores collapsed into her seat with an exclamation.  “Caramba!  The man is a demon!  And such eyes.  Uf!  They say he was so furious at losing those two sisters I told you about that he killed the soldier with the very weapon—­”

Dolores was interrupted by Longorio’s voice beneath the open window.  The general stood, cap in hand, holding up to Alaire a solitary wild flower which he had plucked beside the track.

“See!” he cried.  “It is the color of your adorable eyes—­blue like a sapphire gem.  I saw it peeping at me, and it was lonely.  But now, behold how it smiles—­like a star that sees Paradise, eh?  And I, too, have seen Paradise.”  He placed the delicate bloom in Alaire’s fingers and was gone.

“Cuidado!” breathed Dolores.  “There is blood on it; the blood of innocents.  He will burn for a million years in hell, that man.”

Longorio made good his promise; soon a grizzled old teniente, with six soldiers, was transferred as a bodyguard to the American lady, and then, after some further delay, the military train departed.  Upon the rear platform stood a tall, slim, khaki-clad figure, and until the car had dwindled away down the track, foreshortening to a mere rectangular dot, Luis Longorio remained motionless, staring with eager eyes through the capering dust and the billowing heat waves.