Then, abruptly, in a patch of tall mesquite, Norton reined
in his horse and stopped.
"You understand why I must leave you here," he said. "Yonder, beyond
those trees straight ahead . . . you will see it from that little
ridge . . . is Las Estrellas, a town of a dozen houses. But before you
get there you will come to the house where old Ramorez, a half-breed,
lives. You remember; if you are missed in San Juan, Struve will say
that you have gone to see Ramorez. He is actually sick by the way;
maybe you can do something for him. His shack is in those cottonwoods,
this side of Las Estrellas. You'll find Ignacio there, too; he'll go
back to San Juan with you. And, once again, thank you."
He put out his hand; she gave him hers and for a moment they sat
looking at each other gravely. Then Norton smiled, the pleasant boyish
smile, her lips curved at him deliciously, he touched his hat and was
gone. And she, riding slowly, turned Persis toward Las Estrellas.
From Las Estrellas, an unkempt, ugly village strangely named, it was
necessary to ride some fifteen miles through sand and scrub before
coming again into San Juan. Virginia Page, sincerely glad that she had
made her call upon old Ramorez who was suffering painfully from acute
stomach trouble and whose distress she could partially alleviate, made
the return ride in the company of Ignacio.
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