"Oh," she said disappointedly. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to meet Philip." Felicity hesitated, and then added, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to ask: "Have you ever made out a bill of lading, Sisa?"
"For the shipping company? Oh, yes," Sisa smiled. "Often I used to help my father with such things when he was very busy. But never at the offices," she added. "Always here."
"If—Julio doesn't come back in time, do you think you could do some to-day?" Felicity moistened dry lips. "Sabino will go to the offices in the bullock cart and bring the papers back here for you to sign. Then you will tell him what to do at Puerto. He has only to hand over the consignment and get the bills signed there. You are quite sure you can do this, Sisa?"
"Quite sure!" Sisa looked slightly puzzled. "But where has Julio gone?" she asked.
"He—has a message for Philip."
"And Philip is on his way to Lozaro Alto? I see," Sisa agreed. "I will do as you say, Felicity, but is it right that you should ride alone, even as far as Lozaro Alto?"
"I shall meet Philip." Felicity's voice had all but trembled, but she was determined not to let her cousin see her distress. "I shall be all right."
She hurried away from the terrace through the open french windows into the dining-room, where the sun had not penetrated. Coming from the blinding light of the garden into the shaded room, she could not see for a moment, and then she was aware of Sabino holding something on a tray. He thrust it towards her.
"For you, senorita!" he said. "I am to give it to you only."
A spray of small white flowers lay on the silver salver, flowers which, for a moment, she mistook for orange blossom. They were twisted roughly into the shape of a wreath—a bridal wreath?
She realized almost immediately that it was a spray of stephanotis. The orange blossom was long since past. She could not understand the gift, nor could she imagine who might have sent it, but she lifted the flowers tenderly, aware of the strong, sweet perfume which filled all the room, and hoping in her heart that they had come from Philip.
"Who has sent them, Sabino?" she asked.
"It is Don Julio's gift," the old servant said with an odd little shake of his head. "He has ask me to see that you get them very soon."
Something hard and cold had touched Felicity's hand as she lifted the flowers, and when she looked down at them again she saw a small, exquisitely-carved rosary lying among the white blossoms.
"Julio!" she gasped beneath her breath. "Why have you done this?"
"It is Maria's rosary!"
Sisa had come through the windows behind her. She was standing gazing down at the flowers and the tiny cross and her eyes were suddenly tragic.
"Who could have done this?" she cried with a hint of Conchita's easily-aroused passion in her young voice. "Who could have been so cruel? Maria died on her wedding day."
Felicity's heart turned over. What was Julio trying to do? What message did he mean his flowers to convey? Desperately she fought for control of the situation.
"I don't know, Sisa," she lied. "Will you take Maria's rosary and keep it safely? Do not let anyone take it again."
Sisa put the beads into the front of her dress. She looked sad and disturbed.
"Sabina," Felicity said, turning to the old servant, "you must go to the plantation offices for me. I want you to bring the bills of lading here if Señor Don Julio is not at the office himself. Then you will return with them when they are signed. You will see that the lorries are all away from the packing sheds before twelve o'clock. There must be no siesta before the last lorry has gone. Do you understand?"
"Si, senorita!" Sabino obviously thought it strange to be taking orders from a woman, especially orders of this nature, but it was not his place to disagree with anything the señorita said. "I will go," he added. "I will do as you have tell me."
"You will wait here, Sisa." Felicity turned to her cousin. Should she, after all, confide in Sisa? She decided against it. "Julio may come back quite soon—or return to the plantation. Then there will be no need for you to sign the bills."
Sisa nodded.
"You, also, will soon return?" she asked anxiously. "Yes—quite soon."
Impulsively, and without quite knowing why she should do so, Felicity stooped to kiss the younger girl on the cheek.
"I can trust you, Sisa," she said.
Realizing that she should have asked Sabino to saddle
a horse for her, she made her way towards the stables. It was too late now. He was already on his way to the plantation offices. She must manage for herself.
It cost her precious time. She had only learned to ride since she had come to San Lozaro and she had never saddled her own mount. Sabino, or one of the other servants, had always brought the horse round to the terrace steps for her, or Philip himself had mounted her. Now she had to do it for herself, or waste still more time looking for someone to take Sabino's place. The average Spanish serving man could make himself more scarce than water in a drought, she realized, as she struggled with a refractory girth, but the animal Philip had recommended for her use was patient enough. He turned his head quizzically when she fumbled unnecessarily and laid back his ears when the saddle slipped, but he did accept her, and that was the main thing.
"Treasure," she said, laying a persuasive hand on his smooth red flank, "I want you to go like the wind!"
The horse was sensible, however, and did no more than trot, even when they reached the adequate shade of the eucalyptus trees which fringed the road to Lozaro Alto on its first uphill stretch.
Soon, however, the taller trees began to thin out, the eucalyptus giving place to chestnut and the chestnut to pine until they finally reached the arid wastes above the valley. There was no sign of life up here after the last charcoal-burner's but had been passed, and the sun was not so bright, although it was still stiflingly warm.
She rode on for what seemed an eternity, hearing the distant growl of thunder like a roll of drums echoing and re-echoing among the crags and pinnacles of this desert place.
The heat seemed to be choking her and there was a band of fire about her brow. She put up her hand, as if to brush it away. I can't faint now, she thought. I can't give in!
The road wound on, interminably, she fancied, but she knew that she had come all this way before. She could not see The Peak now. It was somewhere above her, hidden behind the grey haze which had thickened considerably since she had left the valley behind.
Then, suddenly, she knew that she had missed the way
to Lozaro Alto. She had come too far. Somewhere back along the winding, dusty road behind her the scarcely discernible path which Conchita had pointed out on their way back from Las Canadas went deep into Philip's secret valley. She had missed her way and lost precious time.
She was conscious now of time as the main element in her journey and she bit her lip with vexation as she turned her horse and rode slowly back downhill again.
The heat was overpowering now and the rumble of the thunder seemed to come from beneath her feet rather than from the brazen sky above her head. There was a strong smell of sulphur in the air and a tense, deathly stillness. It was some time, she realized, since she had noticed a bird in flight.
Her patient mount trudged on, but there was a nervousness about him now for which she could not account. He appeared to be relieved that they were on their way back to San Lozaro.
When they eventually came to the narrow entrance to the upper valley, half hidden by a screen of stunted sage, he refused to go on. Nervously he sniffed the air, his sensitive nostrils quivering as he pawed the ground before him.
"Treasure, you must!" Felicity besought him. "You must take me there. I may be needed."
Her voice faltered on the final words. She could hardly breathe for the heat, and a desperate unnamed fear rose in her heart.
How long had she taken? How much time, had she lost by missing the path and riding those extra miles along the ridge? She had left her watch behind her in her haste to get away, but time seemed scarcely measurable in the ordinary way up here.
She glanced up at where the sun should have been, to see only a molten ball of fire glaring at her through the haze. I've got to go on, she thought. I've got to go on!
The narrow road to Lozaro Alto went down into a steep barranco whose sides looked almost precipitous. Great jagged pinnacles of rock towered heavenwards, red and fantastic-looking in the peculiar light of the veiled sun, yet she could see far beneath her a valley of great beauty.
Cradled between these savage mountain crests, Lozaro Alto was a valley to be dreamed about, deep and narrow and green, with trees already growing on its steep sides and a stream running clearly down its entire length.
Life-giving water! No wonder Philip saw it as his future home. Here toil would be abundantly rewarded. Here the vine would grow on the terraced hillsides again and the valley itself would be white with orange blossom covering a thousand trees. There would be maize in the hollows in the spring, and the emerald of corn. They would plant figs and limes and a red camellia tree—
She tore her thoughts away from her smiling vision of the future to attend to the present. Treasure had come to an abrupt halt on the narrow road, quivering in every limb, and the sun had hidden its face again. Even as she watched, the whole world seemed to grow dark. She felt the thunder beneath her feet again and the valley rocked gently as she looked.
The sun, she thought. I've been too long in the sun!
Carefully, steadily, she got down from the saddle, thinking to find some shade for a moment, and almost immediately she felt the earth tremble again. With a final, desperate whinny of terror, Treasure took to his heels and fled.
"Treasure! Treasure—!"
Her voice seemed to echo mockingly through space. He would neither heed nor obey. She watched the cloud of dust which obscured him rise and disappear in the distance. She was alone.
Despair settled on her like the haze that was steadily creeping towards her down the mountainsides. What could she do? What could she possibly do to reach the valley now that Treasure had deserted her?
For a moment her anger with the horse was uppermost, but very soon she recognized the true implication of his flight. Roll upon roll of what she had taken for thunder shook the crags on every side of her, and suddenly the guardian peak which looked down over Philip's hidden valley began to belch smoke from its rugged side.
A blow-hole, she thought in horror. A miniature crater torn in the solid rock by the molten inferno within!
Fear seized her, and a terrifying sense of her desperate vulnerability. She was alone, so alone that the very crags seemed to threaten her and the sight of even a bird of prey would have been welcome. There was no movement anywhere now. The whole valley seemed to be lying still, crouched in expectancy before the coming fury of volanic wrath.
I'm trapped, she thought. Trapped up here by my own stupidity. I should never have got down, never let Treasure go!
Once more panic seized her, and then she was conscious of the calm of acceptance. Philip was somewhere down there in the valley. Somehow she must reach him.
The road she followed wound slowly uphill, however, nearer and nearer to the crater's edge, and the air she was breathing was full of sulphur. It was a difficult, narrow road, with a sharp drop of hundreds of feet on one side down into the valley below. She wondered despairingly if she had come the wrong way, only to remember that Conchita had said that there was only one road into the valley. This road; the way she must go. The way by which she and Philip, Conchita and Julio must come out.
It was so dark now that she could hardly see. A dull, molten cloud had effaced the sun and it seemed to be pressing down close against the sides of the peaks ahead of her. Then, with a terrifying sound which shook the whole barranco from top to bottom, the side of a hill caved in and a great fountain of smoking rock and stone leapt into the windless air. Cinders and sparks showered down to cover the whole road ahead of her, and she drew back in terror.
For an endless second she stood watching, her eyes dilated, her heart thumping heavily against her ribs, but the trembling of the earth had ceased. All sound had suddenly fled, leaving a dreadful, awful calm.
There was nothing left in Felicity's mind but the desire to reach Philip. She began to run forward along the path, gasping for breath as she went, stumbling in the darkness and subtly aware of a silent, moving thing somewhere on the steep hillside above her. It was fear, she thought, fear of the unknown. There was nothing there—no tangible thing.
Her breath came in agonized gasps, but the road seemed to be going downwards now, into the valley. Suddenly a flare of angry light seared the sky above her and she saw the whole narrow barranco lying at her feet. It looked cold and completely deserted.
For the first time she faced the possibility that Philip might not be there. If he had heard these terrible warnings inside the mountain, wouldn't he already be well on his way back to San Lozaro? Philip, and Conchita, and Julio?