Robert, who had said his goodbyes, lifted his reins. Again Esmeralda tried to cry his name, but this time no sound at all came from her throat.

Chapter Four.

Young Pedro, who saw his release from a shrewish wife about to disappear, gave up his low-voiced argument with his father, and as Robert's mount began to move, turned and cried out, "There is an Englishwoman here who owes us money."

He spoke quickly in his haste, so that the only words Robert caught were those for "English" and "money". He did not rein in because he did not wish to waste any more time, and he thought the young man was asking another question about whether the English could be trusted to pay. However, the priest understood. He was puzzled by Robert's indifference and asked, "An Englishwoman? How did she come here?"

And almost simultaneously, Esmeralda found her voice and called, "Captain Moreton! Wait!"

The feminine voice drew Robert's eyes, and he frowned. Esmeralda, freed from the paralysis caused by fear followed too quickly by relief, hurried forward. "Captain Moreton," she cried, "do you not remember me? I am Esmeralda Talbot. We met in India, in Bombay."

For a moment, Robert just stared. The face and voice were only vaguely familiar. His own appearance was notable. Very few people who had seen him, male or female, forgot those perfect features. To Robert, however, Esmeralda Talbot had been only one of many plain, uninteresting girls. Nonetheless, the accent was that of an English gentlewoman. Robert dismounted again and went to meet her.

"Miss Talbot?"

Esmeralda picked up the uncertainty in his voice. "You must remember me," she gasped, beginning to tremble. "You must! Please! Oh, please!"

"Of course I remember you," Robert a.s.sured her soothingly, taking her hand. It was not exactly the truth. Robert did know that he had met this young woman before, but where and when had faded into the general blur of innumerable dull, dutiful parts of otherwise enjoyable social engagements.

"Thank G.o.d," Esmeralda breathed, clutching his hand as if it were a lifeline. "You must help me, Captain Moreton."

"I will if I can, Miss Talbot," Robert said cautiously, "but I am on duty, and-"

"You cannot leave me here," Esmeralda cried, her voice rising hysterically. "The old man wants to force me to marry his son because he thinks I am rich."

"Good G.o.d!" Robert exclaimed, realizing for the first time that Esmeralda was not in the village of her own free will.

He had a.s.sumed when she said she had met him in India that her family had moved to Portugal for some business reasons. Robert had left India in 1805, two years before the French had invaded Portugal. There had been a reasonably large colony of British in and around Oporto involved in the wine trade. It was conceivable that some had not believed in the seriousness of the French threat and had not wished to abandon their businesses and return to England in 1807. For that kind of greed, Robert-whose family was rich and therefore could afford to be contemptuous about money-had little sympathy. However, if this young woman was alone and unprotected, Robert's duty was clear to him. He was not happy about it, but he would not shirk it.

"No, of course, that cannot be permitted," he added hastily, fearing Esmeralda was about to dissolve into tears. "Something will have to be done. Please try to be calm, Miss Talbot," he concluded desperately.

Esmeralda drew a long, shuddering breath. "I am very sorry," she said more steadily. "If you will listen to my problem and advise me, I promise I will not afflict you with vapors."

"That's the dandy," Robert remarked with hearty encouragement and an enormous sense of relief.

When his sisters started to cry, he had found that they also seemed to lose the ability to make sense, so that it was nearly impossible to discover what had caused the distress in the first place and stop the waterfall. He began to feel more kindly toward Miss Talbot. As his alarmed concentration on her diminished, however, he became aware of a babble of excited voices behind him. He turned slightly and noted that the headman was alternately shouting at a younger man close to him and whining at the priest. Both the young man and the priest were replying, and owing to the medley of voices, Robert could not make out a word.

Robert began to feel worried again. If the villagers wanted to hold the girl, there could be trouble, and Sir Arthur had given strict instructions that everything was to be done to conciliate the people. Nonetheless, Robert could not permit the forced marriage of an English gentlewoman to a common peasant. He cast a glance at Esmeralda, but although she, too, was now looking at the three vociferous speakers, she showed no signs of becoming tearful again. He a.s.sumed that was because she could not understand what was being said.

"I do not wish to alarm you," Robert said, "but perhaps it would be better to explain later. I would prefer that we leave before there is any trouble. That young man-"

As he spoke, he had watched Esmeralda anxiously, but instead of looking frightened a very faint smile appeared on her lips, and when he said "we leave" she relaxed the tight grip she had kept on his hand. Robert then gently disengaged his fingers altogether and felt even better pleased when Esmeralda showed no sign of objecting.

"Young Pedro will not try to keep me," she said. "His father-old Pedro is the headman-is angry because young Pedro is the one who told me there was an Englishman in the village." Now that she saw salvation within her grasp, Esmeralda was more than willing to forgive young Pedro for the fright he had given her and certainly did not wish to make any more trouble for him than he was in already. "You see," she continued, "young Pedro is the one who would have had to marry me, and he didn't like the idea any more than I did. I am afraid my putative riches did not make up for...for my other lacks."

"The more fool he," Robert said automatically. He was not, of course, thinking of the "putative riches" Esmeralda had mentioned but only saying the polite thing to a girl who was obviously too aware of her plainness. "If you have kept your head in such a difficult situation, you cannot lack much," he added, seeking to make the compliment he had paid a little less empty. Then, to avoid having to find another compliment that was not obviously a lie, he asked, "Do you understand them?"

"Oh, yes," Esmeralda replied. "You need not worry about old Pedro making trouble. The reason he is so angry is because he thinks that the villagers have lost all chance of obtaining what he feels is owed to them, as well as personally having lost the chance of snaring a rich daughter-in-law. But really, if it is at all possible I would like to explain part of the problem now. You see, I-I do feel I owe the villagers a debt, and I have no way to pay it until I get to England." Her voice began to tremble on the final words, and she stopped and swallowed hard.

"Now, now," Robert soothed, "there is no need to worry about money. Something can be arranged, I am sure. How much is this debt?"

Esmeralda uttered a rather tremulous chuckle. "I am not quite sure. You see, when we were shipwrecked-"

"Shipwrecked!" Robert exclaimed. "You have had a rather rough time, I'm afraid. Perhaps you would like to sit down."

A more natural laugh was drawn from Esmeralda. "It was more than a month ago, and I am quite recovered from the exertions involved," she said primly but with twinkling eyes. However, she sobered immediately and added, "But Papa did not recover. We had left India, you see, because his heart was weakened and he could no longer tolerate the climate. Although he did survive the shipwreck itself, the shock was too much for him. And he could not stop worrying. Papa was terrified of being taken by the French. He offered to 'pay well' if the villagers would hide us. But I don't know whether he ever offered a particular sum, and old Pedro has never mentioned any specific amount, either. However, that may be because Papa offered more when the French were foraging in the area and then reduced the amount again when they were gone."

Robert had only been listening with half an ear. As soon as Esmeralda began to talk about "Papa", the name Talbot had finally rung a bell in his mind. He still could not recall distinctly where and when he had met Esmeralda, although now he was certain he had danced with her at some ball or other, but Bombay and Talbot had come together to produce a clear memory. He did remember meeting Henry Talbot and not finding the experience a pleasant one. The man had tried to interest him in investing in some very dubious enterprises.

Realizing suddenly that he had made no response at all to Esmeralda's mention of her father's demise, Robert said hastily, "I am very sorry to hear of Mr. Talbot's death."

There was a slight pause during which Esmeralda stood absolutely still with lowered eyes. She knew what was proper, what was expected of her. Every daughter was supposed to grieve over a father's death, but Esmeralda was envisioning the tens, perhaps hundreds, of times she would have to mouth falsehoods and pretend emotions she did not feel. What was more, she had sensed the coolness and reserve in Robert's tone when he spoke the formal regret for her father's death that politeness required. Impulsively she spoke the truth.

"You do not need to offer me sympathy over Papa's death. He was not a very nice person and not kind to me. I have nothing to regret. I did my duty as a daughter, but Papa did not love me and did not wish that I love him, so there was little in his death to cause me grief."

Robert had been cursing himself, thinking he had precipitated a new emotional crisis. He had been casting wildly around for some sympathetic phrase that would not make matters worse, when Esmeralda had raised her eyes to his and spoken. In that moment of relief, Robert thought them the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Further, he was so delighted that he would not need to wade through a bog of bathos that he found her candor far more refreshing than shocking. However, he had not the faintest notion of what to say in reply to such a statement.

Fortunately, there was no need to say anything because at that moment the diatribe old Pedro had been delivering to his son and the priest flooded over onto them. Pointing his finger at Esmeralda, old Pedro accused her of ingrat.i.tude and heartlessness, reminding her of the shelter, food, and clothing that had been bestowed upon her. Then he turned to Robert.

"She is lying to you," he declaimed pa.s.sionately. "She is saying we were cruel to her and that she owes us nothing-"

"Quiet!" Robert ordered, having remembered that one appropriate word from his limited Portuguese vocabulary. He then said to the priest, "Father, would you be good enough to translate what the headman said? He speaks too quickly when he is so excited for me to understand. And would you also translate what I say? It would take me too long to find the right words in your language."

The priest repeated what Pedro had said. Robert flicked a glance at Esmeralda, and she nodded, smiling slightly, indicating that the translation was accurate.

"You are quite wrong," Robert then replied. "Miss Talbot has not been accusing you of unkindness at all. She has, in fact, told me that her father promised you a recompense for what their keep has cost you and for your good faith in protecting them from the French. We English are honest people. We do not wish to cheat you." At least, Robert thought, he had been able to get in a useful conciliatory statement.

While the priest translated, Robert made a rapid calculation of the amount of money he had with him. He knew that there could now be no question of riding farther to seek animals for transport. Sir Arthur, he was sure, would have agreed, had he been present, that Robert's first duty was to get Miss Talbot to Oporto and make what arrangements he could for her safety. How to get her there, however, presented a problem. He asked the priest to stop translating for a minute while he consulted Esmeralda.

"I will walk if necessary," she said gratefully, "but I could easily ride a mule or an a.s.s. I was accustomed in India to riding long distances."

"I am glad to hear it," Robert replied, "but there is a problem. I am sure there will be no lady's saddle in this village, if they have saddles at all."

"Dear Captain Moreton," Esmeralda laughed while she blinked back tears, "you are very considerate, but this is no time for delicacy. I would be happy to leave here draped over the back of an a.s.s like a sack of wheat. I will not object to riding astride on a blanket, I a.s.sure you."

A most reasonable girl, Robert thought. He wondered why he could not remember her more clearly. She was no beauty, certainly, but she had fine eyes and a good spirit. Usually he did remember young women who made interesting conversation.

"Tell the headman that I will give him two hundred escudos," he said, "but that must not only clear Miss Talbot's debt completely but include a mule and some kind of saddle for the animal."

Robert then resigned himself to the endless haggling that followed. First there was a violent protest that a mule was not necessary. Women, old Pedro claimed heatedly, only rode pillion behind a man. Robert quelled that quickly enough by saying coldly that he had no intention of tiring his fine mount by making the horse carry double for that distance. And when the headman protested that she would only fall off and be hurt, Robert stated even more coldly that Miss Talbot was no common Portuguese peasant girl but an English gentlewoman, who knew well how to ride and was not accustomed to being b.u.mped about on a horse's croup like a f.a.ggot of sticks.

Meanwhile, Esmeralda had been thinking over Robert's offer, comparing it with what she knew of the amount of money circulating in the village. Considering the fleeting expression she had noted on old Pedro's face, she soon came to the conclusion that far from feeling cheated, the headman was afraid that Robert would later think he had overpaid and come back to reclaim his money if the offer was accepted too eagerly. Thus, she was not surprised when the first mule presented should long ago have been retired, and the second had a wheeze that could be heard across the whole square.

Robert was not unaware that he had been generous. As soon as he had been made responsible for the transport animals, he had begun to acquaint himself not only with their value but with the cost of forage and the wages a driver might expect. He knew that two hundred escudos was about the equivalent of what all thirty or so villagers would earn in a year. Information did spread from village to village, and Robert wished to be generous, to underline the value of preserving the life and honor of any British citizens who might be exposed to future dangers in the area.

Nonetheless, Robert scornfully rejected the two wrecks offered him. He did not actually care, so long as the animal could survive carrying Esmeralda to Oporto, but he did not wish to leave the impression that the English were not only honest and generous but also stupid. Thus, he displayed not only an a.s.sumed indignation but his thorough knowledge of beasts of burden, and the third animal that was offered was quite serviceable.

Then the argument about a saddle began. Robert was less certain of his ground here, not because of any concern over the value of the saddle but because he did not know what might be available in a small village. To his surprise, Esmeralda said nothing, although when old Pedro began to lament that there was only one saddle and giving it up would cause great hardship, she shook her head and winked. Partly because of that warning and partly because their pace would be too slow if Esmeralda had only a blanket to ride on, Robert persisted.

At last, the saddle was brought forth, the mule was readied, Esmeralda mounted with casual confidence which caused gasps of surprise from the villagers, who had not really believed Robert when he said she could ride, and they turned south toward Oporto.

"Captain Moreton," Esmeralda said in a slightly unsteady voice as soon as they were past the last houses, "I do not know how to thank you for what you have done."

"Don't have to thank me," Robert replied a trifle brusquely. "You are a British citizen in distress. I've done no more than my duty to you. And any officer would have done the same. I just hope I didn't take the one sound mule the French left them. I thought you would say something one way or the other about that."

"Oh, no. I would have found a way to warn you if you were really hurting them, but they can buy ten mules with what you gave them, not that they need them. Most of their income comes from fishing. I couldn't say anything, however." Esmeralda smiled at him. "That would have lowered your status. Only henpecked husbands allow their wives to speak even a word when men talk business." She chuckled. "It wasn't only that I wasn't as pretty as some of the village girls that made young Pedro decide he didn't want to marry me no matter how rich I was. It was the fact that I dared to argue with his father."

This logical reply to what Robert had considered a somewhat unfeeling att.i.tude toward people who had, despite an uncomprehending greediness, protected Esmeralda from a real danger made him laugh heartily. "I didn't think of that," he admitted. "Well, thank you for saving the honor of the British army." He had turned to look at her while he spoke and added doubtfully, "I'm afraid you are not very comfortable."

"No, I am not," Esmeralda replied forthrightly, but she tempered her statement with a brilliant smile. "I am not used to riding astride, of course, but even riding sidesaddle I am sure the gait of this animal would have nothing to recommend it. However, I am not repining," she a.s.sured Robert merrily. "I prefer this mule infinitely to the one I left back in the village."

Robert laughed heartily before he realized that no delicate young woman could possibly have meant what he was thinking. Then he hastily smothered his mirth and examined Esmeralda's expression, wondering whether she had intended the double meaning or whether he had shocked her into recognizing it by his burst of laughter. Girls, Robert knew, were never as ignorant as their mothers or governesses would like one to believe. But what the devil could Miss Talbot have meant if she had not been comparing young Pedro's s.e.xual gaits with those of the mule she was riding? Still, he did not know how to respond.

Breaking the moment of awkward silence that ensued, Esmeralda said blandly, "The old man was so stubborn. No matter how many difficulties I pointed out, among which was the fact that his son was unwilling, he would not move from the position that marriage would be best for both of us."

It was, of course, the perfect answer to the question Robert had asked himself, but he remained somewhat uneasy. Had there been a wicked glint in Miss Talbot's eyes for the brief instant they had met his? Robert faced forward to watch the road and once again wondered how he could have so completely forgotten so clever a girl.

By the time they reached Oporto, he admired her courage, steady good sense, and good humor, too. It was plain that she was suffering considerable discomfort, not only from her unaccustomed position and the awkward gait of the animal she rode, but also from the necessity, despite the excessive heat, to cover her legs with a blanket to preserve the decencies. Still, not a word of complaint did she utter, nor did she propose that they stop and rest every few minutes. To add to those remarkable qualities, she did not chatter compulsively, only answering cheerfully any conversation addressed to her.

During the ride, Robert learned the facts about the shipwreck and Esmeralda's sojourn in the village. He could see that, although she was greatly relieved to have been rescued from that situation, there was something else troubling her. However, she did not seem to wish to speak about whatever it was, and Robert really had no desire to inquire too particularly. If she presented a problem to him, he was bound to try to help; but he had no intention of looking for trouble.

Chapter Five.

Trouble came soon enough without being sought. Having established Esmeralda in the best hotel in Oporto and arranged for a dressmaker to visit her at once so that she would be able to appear in public, Robert began to investigate means of getting her back to England or if that failed of providing her with sufficient money to live decently until pa.s.sage could be arranged. Both avenues were blocked. There was, at present, no ship leaving for England nor any expectation that one would be leaving in the near future. And as for money, Robert found to his horror that he could not obtain personal credit, not even from the Bishop of Oporto. The refusal was couched in diplomatic terms, but it was definite.

Moreover, though Robert had brought with him a substantial sum, knowing from previous periods of service in war zones that at best his pay would be irregular and might under certain conditions become nonexistent, his personal funds were now rendered almost useless. Robert would have been perfectly willing to expend every penny to get Esmeralda safely off his hands, but he had naturally carried pound notes rather than gold, and no one in Oporto was willing to exchange more than one or two pounds for Portuguese money.

Robert was certain that Portugal would be cleared of the French, normal trade with England would resume, and British pounds would retain their value. Portuguese bankers and merchants, however, did not share his confidence. If the British were driven out instead of the French, pound notes would be little more than worthless paper. They were willing to change relatively small sums to pacify and please their allies, but nothing near the amount Robert felt to be necessary could be obtained.

Of course, there was the money that Sir Arthur had left with him to pay for the transport animals and their keep. The two hundred escudos Robert had given old Pedro had, in fact, come from this purse, but Robert had intended from the beginning to make up the sum from his private resources. However sympathetic Sir Arthur might be to the need to rescue Miss Talbot, Robert knew the government would take a dim view of such an expenditure. And even if the payment were condoned owing to the emergency, further expenditures for clothing and accommodations were not likely to be acceptable, particularly if that meant there would be fewer mules and oxen to carry supplies.

Remembering that he had set no limit on Esmeralda's orders to the dressmaker, Robert hurried back to the hotel, wondering how he was going to explain these unpalatable facts to her. Thus, he was considerably relieved when, as soon as he entered the sitting room the hotel had provided, she said calmly, "I see that something has gone wrong, Captain Moreton. Please sit down and explain to me what has happened."

"I am afraid," Robert began, "that I was too sanguine when I spoke of arranging your pa.s.sage to England. It seems that no ships are going there, at least not from Oporto."

To his surprise, instead of crying out, What am I to do? Esmeralda smiled faintly.

"I know you will think I am quite mad," she said, "but I must admit your news is the greatest relief to me."

"Relief?" Robert echoed. "What the devil- Oh, I beg your pardon. What do you mean?"

"You need not bother to beg my pardon for a most natural expression of irritation," Esmeralda remarked. "Papa used the most unsuitable language before me. I am quite unshockable. But I am sure you are more interested in why I do not wish to go to England." She paused and sighed. "I know I am a most unwelcome burden, Captain Moreton, and I had resolved not to add my troubles to the ones you already have, but...but really I am in the most dreadful situation."

Robert's lips tightened. He remembered Henry Talbot's seedy appearance, and he thought he knew what was coming. Probably Talbot had been carrying with him whatever small fortune he had realized when he had sold his house and whatever other holdings he had in India and that had gone down with the ship. His daughter was thus penniless. Well, Robert told himself angrily, it was no business of his. He would not, of course, expect her to return the money he had paid old Pedro or the dressmaker's fees, but he was d.a.m.ned if he would get in any deeper.

"I a.s.sure you," he said, "that there is no need to repay-"

"Oh, no!" Esmeralda interrupted. "My problem is not any lack of money." She blushed painfully and then continued with obvious discomfort. "We were not...not so badly off as Papa liked to pretend. That was just...just his way. I can well afford... That is, I will have a...a comfortable competence if...if... My problem, Captain Moreton, will be in proving who I am."

"What?"

"You see," she went on hurriedly, "Papa quarreled with his family and with Mama's also. He was not of a forgiving disposition, and he forbade all communications." She hesitated again and blinked back tears. "He even forbade Mama to speak of his family or hers and...and she was afraid to disobey him. I do not know exactly where my relatives live, other than that Papa and Mama originally came from Ireland and that Papa was very distantly related to the Earl of Shrewsbury. He spoke of that because it was useful to him, but obviously I cannot presume on such a relationship, and I have no idea whether any of my grandparents or aunts or uncles, if I have any, are alive. Nor do they know that I am alive. What is worse, all Papa's papers went down with the ship, and no one in England has ever seen me."

"Good G.o.d." At the moment, Robert could think of nothing more useful to say.

"It is not quite hopeless," Esmeralda began again. "I wrote most of Papa's letters to his bankers. Do you think they would recognize my handwriting and accept that as an identification? Or perhaps," her voice was growing unsteady because she was more and more frightened by Robert's frozen expression, but she continued valiantly, "I could write to India. Many people know me there. If someone who knew me in India was now in England, one of my friends could tell me and that person could identify me, or...or..." She fumbled at her neck and drew out the locket. "I have this," she said desperately. "It has Mama's picture..."

"But you don't know anyone in England who would recognize the picture, and it would take months for a letter to get to India," Robert said somewhat absently.

He had been growing more and more appalled as he listened, wondering if he had been trapped in some elaborate coney-catching scheme, but the locket Esmeralda held had finally jogged his memory. He remembered seeing it, the one pretty item in a rather drab costume that had endured a few too many wearings. It was the locket that had attracted Robert and decided him to ask Miss Talbot to dance first. He breathed a sigh of relief. Of course her manner was different now. Three years ago she had been barely out of the schoolroom, too shy to speak up, but he remembered her eyes, too, even though she had only raised them once or twice.

"Yes, I know," Esmeralda breathed, clasping her hands and fighting helplessly against the tears that were now coursing down her cheeks. "And how am I to live until then? And where? Oh, do forgive me, Captain Moreton. This is not your problem. You have already done more-"

"I know you," Robert said.

His voice was strong and so redolent of relief and satisfaction that Esmeralda's tears checked. She stared at him for a moment and then started to laugh, hiccupping between sobs and giggles.

Poor Robert thought she was hysterical and rose to his feet making inarticulate noises he thought were soothing and looking anxiously at the door. Should he try to find the landlord's wife or some other woman to help? But how could he ever explain what had driven her into this state? G.o.d knew what would be thought. The idea of trying to express what was necessary to be said in Portuguese was far more frightening to Robert than riding through an artillery barrage.

However, such desperate measures were not needed. Before Robert could force himself to the door, Esmeralda had caught her breath and gasped. "You are the kindest person! You did not really recognize me, did you?" As she spoke she sniffed and wiped the tears from her face with the heel of her hand. Delicate cambric handkerchiefs were no part of Portuguese peasant costume.

Robert gravely presented his own handkerchief, and Esmeralda used it. "I did and I didn't," he confessed. "That is, I knew I'd seen you before, but couldn't remember where or when." He did not mention his brief and pa.s.sing suspicion that she had been setting him up for a skinning. He felt very guilty about that. "But I know you now," he went on heartily. "Remember your locket and remember signing your card, thinking what a pretty name Esmeralda was."

Robert stopped abruptly again. He had almost added that he had also thought it was a pity the girl wasn't as pretty as the name. Happy in his escape from one faux pas, he did not realize that what he had said was almost as cruel as what he had not. Internally Esmeralda winced, but she took no offense at the implication that her face was not memorable! The hurt only drew a few more tears, which she wiped away surrept.i.tiously. She knew Robert had never had any special interest in her and the strong attraction she felt for him had been most unintentionally engendered.

"Ghastly hot it was at that ball," he went on reminiscently as he sat down again, hoping that recalling a pleasant occasion would cheer her up.

"Yes, indeed it was," Esmeralda replied, smiling. She understood Robert's intention and responded gallantly, knowing that he meant well and was doing his best in an impossible situation. "But Governor Duncan's b.a.l.l.s always are. After all, one cannot refuse the governor's invitation, so his b.a.l.l.s are always the greatest crush."

"Were you ever tempted to refuse?" Robert asked curiously. He had often wondered whether plain girls who knew they would not receive the same attention as the pretty ones, exposed themselves voluntarily or were forced by their parents to do so.

"No, certainly not," Esmeralda said. "I love to dance, and in India where there were so few English girls, I was a.s.sured of a partner. I am not so sure I would be equally eager in England where I might be... Well, but we are talking great nonsense. We are not likely to be troubled by b.a.l.l.s here, and there are worse problems than those of finding a partner for me."

"Don't be so sure of a lack of b.a.l.l.s. Wherever Sir Arthur sets up headquarters, there are bound to be..."

Robert's voice drifted into silence. His mention of Sir Arthur had reminded him that it would be necessary for him to leave Oporto in a day or two at most. The two satisfactory parts of his interview with the bishop's secretary had been the report that a surprisingly large number of animals had come in already and that more were on the way. The combination of French atrocities and the offer of coined silver had worked a miracle and produced a good crop of oxen, mules, and horses from a seemingly barren countryside.