"Between six and nine months. We should then require a little time to smelt some ore and realize. We could not--"

"_Si, si!_" In his impatience Don Luis relapsed into Spanish. "_Si_, one would not expect immediate repayment. Perhaps five thousand pesos at the end of a year--"

"Oh, we could do better than that. Ten thousand of a first payment, fifteen for the second, the remainder at a third with interest--"

"Interest? I had not thought of that." But he yielded to their insistence. "Very well, if you will have it! Shall we say five per-cent.? _Bueno!_ You will, of course, have to make a trip to the United States to buy your material. If you will call at San Nicolas on your way the administrador will have letters prepared to my bankers in Ciudad, Mexico."

With a shrug that expressed relief at the conclusion he changed the subject. Riding forward to obtain a closer view of the furnace, he again clucked his surprise at the complete destruction, wagged a grave head over the half bushel of dynamite that the peons had picked out of the charcoal, curiously examined a piece of copper matte, lifting heavy brows over the statement of its values, then rode quietly away, leaving Seyd and Billy to recover as best they could from this fortunate stroke.

"Am I dreaming?" Billy's exclamation defined their mental condition.

"Hit me, Bob. I want to make sure that I'm awake."

Convinced, he gasped with his first breath: "Fifty thousand dollars!

By golly! Why, we can put in a complete outfit."

"Reverberatories with water jackets." Seyd took up the tale again.

"We'll build down in the valley."

"Aerial cable--"

"--With iron self-dumping buckets--"

"--A flat-bottomed sternwheeler to--"

"--Take our copper down to the coast."

Blinded by the sudden light that had flashed out of their black despair they stood for some time looking out over the Barranca with shining eyes which saw a small mining town rising out of the jungle's tangles. It was fully ten minutes before Seyd came back to earth.

"I wonder what is behind all this? Seems rather funny that the old chap should come to our help?"

"Not knowing, can't say and don't care a darn! So far as I am concerned, at fifty thousand a throw he can be just as inconsistent as he jolly well likes."

"Nevertheless," Seyd mused, "I'd give three cents to know."

Meanwhile, Don Luis pursued his quiet way, now at a heavy canter, again on a stately trot, through the jungle out to the first village beyond the forks of the trail. As he pa.s.sed the little _fonda_ Sebastien Rocha rode out from a group of rancheros who stood drinking at the rough bar.

"They told me of the pa.s.sing," he said, nodding backward. "And I waited.

What news? Did the gringos go up with their furnace? No? Still they will now have their bellies full of Guerrero?"

But his face dropped at Don Luis's answer. "No, they are to build again."

"But I thought--was it not the agent at the station who said they had no money?"

"Neither had they." It was always difficult to read the ma.s.sive face, but now it expressed just a shade of malicious amus.e.m.e.nt. "I have lent them fifty thousand pesos."

"_Thou!_" For once the man's usual cynical calm was completely disrupted. In his vast astonishment he whispered it: "_Thou? Fifty thousand pesos?_"

"_Yo._" Smiling slightly, he went on: "Now listen, Sebastien. Not to mention thy little attempt on their virtue, this is the third on their lives, and all badly bungled. So do not wonder that I thought it time to take them into my own hand. Now that they are there, let there be no mistake--the meddling finger is likely to be badly pinched. From this time--they are _mine_."

"But--why give them money?"

"To forestall others." Had he been there to hear, the following words would fully have answered Seyd's question. "The elder of these lads is no common man. By hook or by crook he would have raised a company--if he had to rope and tie down his men on the run. Then, instead of these two, we should have a dozen gringos, with Porfirio and his rurales to back up their charter. But do not fear."

From the cleared fields through which they were riding it was possible to see Santa Gertrudis, and, turning in his saddle, he extended his quirt toward its green scar.

"Do not fear."

CHAPTER XI

It was in the middle of the rainy season. Stepping out of his office, where he had just added a few drops of Scotch to the water he was absorbing at every pore, the station agent came face to face with the engineer of the down train.

"Nine hours late?" The engineer gruffly repeated the other's comment.

"We are lucky to be here at all. Besides being sopping wet, the wood we're burning is that dosey it'd make a fireproof curtain for h.e.l.l. This kind of railroading don't suit my book, and I'm telling you that if they don't serve us out something pretty soon that smells like wood I know one fat engineer that will be missing on this line." Jerking his thumb at the lone pa.s.senger who had descended at the station, he added: "But for that chap we'd never have got through. When the track went out from under us at La Puente he pitched in and showed us no end of wrinkles. If you've got anything inside just give him a nip for me."

"Hullo, Mr. Seyd!" Coming face to face with the pa.s.senger after the train had gone on, the agent thrust out his hand. "What a pity you weren't on the other train. She was twenty hours late--in fact, only pulled out a couple of hours ago. Miss Francesca was aboard, and she just left."

"Not alone?"

The agent laughed. "Sure! She don't care. Three weeks ago she came galloping in through one of the heaviest rains and took the up train."

"So she has been home since I left?"

"Let me see--that's nigh on three months, isn't it? Sure, she came home just after you left."

With this bit of information lingering in the forefront of his mind Seyd, a little later, rode out from the station. Not that it engrossed, by any means, the whole of his thought. Even had he been free, the hard work and bitter disappointment of the first venture, and the equally hard thought and careful planning for the second during his long absence in the States, would have been sufficient to keep her in the background.

If he had never happened to see Francesca again she would probably have lingered as an unusually pretty face in the gallery of his mind. While it was only natural that he should wonder if the news that he sent in by Caliban had ever reached her ear, it was merely a pa.s.sing thought. His mind soon turned again to his plans. Up to the moment that, four hours later, he came slipping and sliding downhill upon her she was altogether out of his thought.

For that very reason his fresh senses leaped to take the picture she made standing in the gray sheeting rain beside her fallen horse, and through its very difference from either the tan riding habit or virginal batiste of his memory her loose waterproof with its capote hood helped to stamp this figure upon his brain. Before she said a word he had gone back to the feelings of four months ago.

The pelting rain had washed all but a few clay streaks off her coat.

Touching them, she explained: "The poor beast fell under me. I fear it has broken a leg."

While speaking she offered her hand; and if that had not been sufficient, her friendly smile more than answered his speculation.

Caliban's niece had certainly done her duty! Indeed, while he was stooping over the fallen animal a quick glance upward would have given him a look evenly compounded of mischief and remorse. It gave place to sudden sorrow when he spoke.

"It is broken, all right. There is only one thing to be done. If you will lead my horse around the shoulder of the hill I will put the poor thing out of its pain."

Her life had been cast too much in the open for her to be ignorant of the needs of the case. Nevertheless, he saw that her eyes were br.i.m.m.i.n.g as she led his horse away; and, remembering their black fire on the day that she had ordered the charcoal-burners flogged, he wondered. It would have been even harder to reconcile the two impressions had he seen the tears rolling down her cheeks when the m.u.f.fled report of his pistol followed her around the hill. But she had wiped them away before he rejoined her. If the sensitive red mouth trembled, her voice was under control.

"No, I had not waited long," she answered his question. "You see, the poor creature lost a shoe earlier in the day, and I had to ride back to have it replaced. It would have been better had I stayed there."

For the moment he was puzzled. An hour ago he had ridden past the last habitation, a flimsy hut already overcrowded with the peon, his wife, their children, chickens, and pigs. All around them stretched wide wastes of volcanic rock and scrub. They were, as he knew, on the hacienda San Angel, but the buildings lay five leagues to the north.

With hard riding he had expected to make the inn at the foot of the Barranca wall that night. She might do it by taking his horse. But if anything went wrong? She would be alone--all night--in the rain! He felt easier when she refused the offer of his beast.

"And leave you to walk? No, sir."