His eyes grew misty as they thronged about her,--the slender dark child of the breed of a leader. The new _manta_ was of yellow wool and cotton, bordered with dull green and little squares of flaming scarlet woven in it by patient Indian hands of the far south coast. It made her look a bit royal in the midst of the drab-colored, weary band.
She seemed scarcely to hear their praise, or their sobs and prayers. Her face was still and her gaze far off and brooding as her fingers stroked the curved blade over and over.
"An Indian stole that knife from the German after his face was cut with it by her sister," said Marto Cavayso quietly while the vaqueros were helping the weaker refugees to mount, two to each animal. "That man gives it to her at the place where Marta, her mother, died in the night. So after that she does not sleep or eat or talk. It is as you see."
"I see! Take you the others, and Tula will ride on my saddle," said Kit in the same tone. Then he pointed to the beautifully worked _manta_, "Did she squander wealth of hers on that?"
Marto regarded him with an impatient frown--it seemed to him an ill moment for the American joke.
"Tula had no wealth," he stated, "we lived as we could on the fine gold you gave to me for myself."
"Oh yes, I had forgotten that," declared Kit in some wonder at this information, "but _mantas_ like that do not grow on trees in Sonora."
"That is a gift from the very grand daughter of the General Terain," said Marto. "Also if you had seen affairs as they moved there at Linda Vista you would have said as does Ramon Rotil, that this one is daughter of the devil! I was there, and with my eyes I saw it, but if I had not,--an angel from heaven would not make me believe!"
"The Virgin alone knows! for women are in her care, and no man could see. As ordered, I went to the gates of that hacienda very grand. _Sangre de Christo!_ if they had known they would have strung me to a tree and filled me with lead! But I was the very responsible vaquero of Rancho Soledad in Altar--and the lizards of guards at the gate had no moment of suspicion. I told them the Indian girl carried a letter for the eyes of their mistress and the sender was Doña Jocasta Perez. At that they sent some messenger on the run, for they say the Doña Dolores is fire and a sword to any servant of theirs who is slow in her tasks."