“Not farewell, Senorita,” said Jack, ardently.  “We must meet again.”

The girl shrugged.

“But where?” said she.  “Will you come back to capture our castle again?”

“No,” said Jack, grinning.  “But,” he added, significantly, “I may come back—­to capture one of its inhabitants.”

Low though his tone was, the words reached the ears of Donna Ana, the ever-present duenna, and she glared at him.  This was no way for a brash young Americano to be speaking to the daughter of the great Don Fernandez.  Jack caught the glance and laughed.  He turned to the duenna and extended his hand.

“Farewell, Donna Ana,” he said.  “It’s been such a pleasure to meet you.”

The wizened old duenna was nonplussed.  She did not know whether to resent this pleasantry or be gratified by it.  Mechanically she accepted Jack’s extended hand.

At that moment, Bob called to him.  Jack turned.  Mr. Hampton already had entered the airplane.  They were waiting for him.  Once more he seized Rafaela’s hand.

“Remember,” he said, so low that only her ears could hear his words, “you haven’t seen the last of me.”

She cast him an arch glance.

“Senor Jack is improving,” she whispered.  “He will be a courtier yet.”

Then Jack climbed into his seat.  A mechanic started the propeller, the machine began to bump over the ground, and presently it was in the air and climbing.

Bob spiralled upward until they were high above the ranch, and the figures below seemed little manikins.  Jack believed he could distinguish Rafaela waving a lacy handkerchief, and leaned far over the side to wave in reply.

Then they were off, zooming through the air, straight as an arrow for the international boundary and the Hampton ranch beyond.  The flight was brief.  Bob covered the distance of 150 miles in considerably less than two hours.

“Look here,” he said to his father, after greetings had been exchanged, and the latter had thumped his big son so hard and often that Bob dodged when further “love taps” came his way.  “I’m not going to stay here to be pounded into a jelly.  Tell you what, father, that’s a long ride up here from the cave.  Frank started early this morning, but he cannot arrive for another day.  Suppose I go back and pick up him and Roy Stone, and leave Tom to bring in the horses?”

Reluctant though he was to let his son depart so soon after regaining him, Mr. Temple was persuaded, and Bob set off.  Far down in Old Mexico, back trailing over the route they had followed in entering the country, he saw three horsemen leading a fourth animal, and on approaching close, saw they were his friends.

Landing near them, Bob called an explanation of his mission.  Roy Stone demurred at the proposal.

“Much obliged for the offer,” he said, “but I’ll ride along with Tom Bodine, if it’s all the same to you.  I’m in no hurry to get anywhere, and you fellows will be having your own reunion at your ranch.  Take your chum with you, but leave Tom and me.  We’ll be in with the horses sooner or later.  Each of us will have a spare mount now, and it’ll be an easy trip.  Anyhow, I never did like those airplanes.”