Will join the others at the yacht
to-morrow.
P. F. F. C.
XII
THE WOMAN AT THE QUINTA
Thanks to his rival's map, Carroll had little difficulty in
finding the trail to the mountain quinta. A brilliant new moon
helped to make easy the ascent. What course he would pursue upon
his arrival he had not clearly defined to himself. That would
depend largely upon the attitude of the man he was seeking. The
flame of battle, still hot from the afternoon's melee, burned high
in the Southerner's soul, for he was not of those whose spirit
rapidly cools. Bitter resentment on behalf of Miss Polly Brewster
fanned that flame. On one point he was determined: neither he nor
the so-called Perkins should leave the mountain until he had had
from the latter's own lips a full explanation.
Coming out into the open space, he got his first glimpse of the
quinta. It was dark, except for one low light. From the farther
side there came faintly to his ear a rhythmical sound, with brief
intervals of quiet, as if some one hard at labor were stopping
from time to time for breath. At that distance, Carroll could not
interpret the sound, but some unidentified quality of it struck
chill upon his fancy.
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