say that I must not go; that it was safer to wait; that you had so said, and you would soon come.”
Alessandro repeated the words to Carmena. “Did you say that?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Carmena.
“You see, then, she has understood the Luiseno words,” he said delightedly. “She is one of us.”
“Yes,” said Carmena, gravely, “she is one of us.” Then, taking Ramona's hand in both of her own for farewell, she repeated, in a tone as of dire prophecy, “One of us, Alessandro! one of us!” And as she gazed after their retreating forms, almost immediately swallowed and lost in the darkness, she repeated the words again to herself,—“One of us! one of us! Sorrow came to me; she rides to meet it!” and she crept back to her husband's grave, and threw herself down, to watch till the dawn.
The road which Alessandro would naturally have taken would carry them directly by Hartsel's again. But, wishing to avoid all risk of meeting or being seen by any of the men on the place, he struck well out to the north, to make a wide circuit around it. This brought them past the place where Antonio's house had stood. Here Alessandro halted, and putting his hand on Baba's rein, walked the horses close to the pile of ruined walls. “This was Antonio's house, Majella,” he whispered. “I wish every house in the valley had been pulled down like this. Old Juana was right. The Americans are living in my father's house, Majella,” he went on, his whisper growing thick with rage. “That was what kept me so long. I was looking in at the window at them eating their supper. I thought I should go mad, Majella. If I had had my gun, I should have shot them all dead!”
An almost inarticulate gasp was Ramona's first reply to this. “Living in your house!” she said. “You saw them?”
