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6c
Photoplay Magazine
"It is a lie," he snarled. "A trick of this pig of an Americano! Conchita, vou will believe
tween his passion for her and the better self she had all unconsciously awakened.
The greatness of her sacrifice, sublime in its abnegation had wrought a miracle in the selfish predatory soul of the Americano and when at length he halted before her there was a look of reverence on his face which purged it of all grossness.
"Juan 'will be free," he said gently. "You have kept vour word, child, you have bought his life. Now you may go."
"Senor!" Transfigured with swift, half-incredulous hope Conchita raised her eyes and what she read at last in his brought to her face a radiance almost divine. "You mean that I, too, am free! You will forgive Juan for the wrong he has done to your countrymen and I — I may return now to my father's casa?"
"As you came." He nodded gravely. "It is still two hours before the dawn. No one will see you, no one will ever know that you have been here. You can slip home through the darkness — "
"The dawn? Is not that the dawn?" A sharp cry from Conchita broke in upon his words and following her gesture he saw the eastern windows lighted by a ruddy, angry glow.
"My oil wells!" The bitterness of overwhelming calamity shook his voice. "San Miguelito has risen against me at last! I must save what I can — !"
Turning he dashed from the room, but Conchita stood as if rooted to the spot gazing with horrified fascination at
the towers of smoke which leaped in crimson effulgence against the sable sky. Two ruddy columns — three — they were setting all his wells ablaze, ruining him —
"Conchita!"
She turned. Juan stood in the doorway.
"Ah! It is thou!" Conchita ran toward him joyously. "You are free, Juan, free! Senor Rannie has promised — "
"Has he?" Juan's face was contorted with passion. "And you, what are you doing here? Dios, I need not ask! While I risk my life for you, you take this Americano for your lover! You would even have had me shot to rid yourself of me! "
"Juan, you are mad! You do not know what you are saying — "
"Mad, am I?" He laughed stridently and advanced upon her. "I will show you how mad I am, you — !"
At the name he uttered, Conchita shrank as from some loathsome thing and turning fled swiftly through the low French window and instinctively toward the nearest of the burning wells. She was conscious only of overwhelming horror and an anger that tugged at her heart as if it would uproot something which had flourished there.
The scaffolding of the well was burning and she halted, held back by the waves of heat which rolled out upon her. her eyes searching the crowd all unconsciously for the tall white-clad figure of John Rannie.
Suddenly a rough hand seized her and she found herself confronting Juan Mendoza once more.
(Continued on page ijo )