But as if his thoughts were telepathic messages, she did the very thing he feared.

“We won’t be in before midnight,” she said, “but I’ll send you to Jonesville in the morning.”

“Thank you, ma’am—­I’ll have to go right through.”

“I’ll get you there in time for business.  We’ve gained a reputation for inhospitableness at Las Palmas that I want to overcome.”  In spite of their recent clash, in spite of the fact that this fellow’s ruthlessness and indifference to human life shocked her, Alaire was conscious of her obligation to him, and aware also of a growing friendship between them which made the present situation all the more trying.  Law was likable, and he inspired her with a sense of security to which she had long been a stranger.  “Mr. Austin ought to know,” she added, “about this—­ matter we were discussing, and I want him to meet you.”

“He has!” Dave said, shortly; and at his tone Alaire looked up.

“So!” She studied his grim face.  “And you quarreled?”

“I’d really prefer to go on, ma’am.  I’ll get to Jonesville somehow.”

“You refuse—­to stay under his roof?”

“That’s about it.”

“I’m sorry.”  She did not ask for further explanation.

Evening came, bringing a grateful coolness, and they drove through a tunnel of light walled in by swiftly moving shadows.

The windows of Las Palmas were black, the house silent, when they arrived at their journey’s end; Dolores was fretful, and her mistress ached in every bone.  When Jose had helped his countrywoman into the house Alaire said: 

“If you insist upon going through you must take the car.  You can return it to-morrow.”

“And—­about Panfilo?” Dave queried.

“Wait.  Perhaps I’ll decide what is best to do in the mean time.  Good night.”

Law took her extended hand.  Alaire was glad that he did not fondle it in that detestable Mexican fashion of which she had lately experienced so much; glad that the grasp of his long, strong fingers was merely firm and friendly.  When he stepped back into the car and drove off through the night she stood for some time looking after him.

Blaze Jones had insisted that Dave live at his house, and the Ranger had accepted the invitation; but as it was late when the latter arrived at Jonesville, he went to the hotel for a few hours’ rest.  When he drove his borrowed machine up to the Jones house, about breakfast-time, both Blaze and Paloma were delighted to see him.

“Say, now!  What you doing rolling around in a gasoline go-devil?” the elder man inquired, and Law was forced to explain.

“Why, Mrs. Austin must have experienced a change of heart!” exclaimed Paloma.  “She never gave anybody a lift before.”