The Mark of Zorro by JOHNSTON MCCULLEY Page B

enraged to weep. Kiss her hand, indeed! Señor Zorro had not suggested it—he had done it. Señor Zorro had dared death to visit her! Señor Zorro had laughed as he fought, and then had escaped by a trick! Ah, if Don Diego Vega were half the man this highwayman appeared!
    She heard the soldiers gallop away, and after a little time she heard Don Diego Vega depart in her father’s carriage. And then she went out into the great room again to her parents.
    â€œMy father, it is impossible that I wed with Don Diego Vega,” she said.
    â€œWhat has caused your decision, my daughter?”
    â€œI scarcely can tell, except that he is not the sort of man I wish for my husband. He is lifeless; existence with him would be a continual torment.”
    â€œCaptain Ramón also has asked permission to pay you his addresses,” Doña Catalina said.
    â€œAnd he is almost as bad. I do not like the look in his eyes,” the girl replied.
    â€œYou are too particular,” Don Carlos told her. “If the persecution continues another year we shall be beggars. Here is the best catch in the country seeking you, and you would refuse him. And you do not like a high army officer because you do not fancy the look in his eyes!
    â€œThink on it, girl! An alliance with Don Diego Vega is much to be desired. Perhaps, when you know him better, you will like him more. And the man may awaken. I thought I saw a flash of it this night, deemed him jealous because of the presence of the captain here. If you can arouse his jealousy—”
    Señorita Lolita burst into tears, but soon the tempest of weeping passed, and she dried her eyes.
    â€œI—I shall do my best to like him,” she said. “But I cannot bring myself to say, yet, that I will be his wife.”
    She hurried into her room again, and called for the native woman who attended her. Soon the house was in darkness, and the grounds about it, save for the fires down by the adobe huts, where the natives told one another grim tales of the night’s events, each trying to make his falsehood the greatest. A gentle snore came from the apartment of Don Carlos Pulido and his wife.
    But the Señorita Lolita did not slumber. She had her head propped on one hand, and she was looking through a window at the fires in the distance, and her mind was full of thoughts of Señor Zorro.
    She remembered the grace of his bow, the music of his deep voice, the touch of his lips upon her palm.
    â€œI would he were not a rogue!” she sighed. “How a woman could love such a man!”

CHAPTER 12
    A VISIT
    Shortly after daybreak the following morning there was considerable tumult in the plaza at Reina de Los Angeles. Sergeant Pedro Gonzales was there with a score of troopers, almost all that were stationed at the local presidio, and they were preparing for the chase of Señor Zorro.
    The big sergeant’s voice roared out above the din as men adjusted saddles and looked to bridles and inspected their water bottles and small supplies of provisions. For Sergeant Gonzales had ordered that his force travel light, and live off the country as much as possible. He had taken the commands of his captain seriously—he was going after Señor Zorro, and did not propose to return until he had him—or had died in an effort to effect a capture.
    â€œI shall nail the fellow’s pelt to the presidio door, my friend,” he told the fat landlord. “Then I shall collect the governor’s reward and pay the score I owe you.”
    â€œI pray the saints it may be true!” the landlord said.
    â€œWhat, fool? That I pay you? Do you fear to lose a few small coins?”
    â€œI meant that I pray you may be successful in capturing the man,” the landlord said, telling the falsehood glibly.
    Captain Ramón was not up to see the start, having a small fever because of his wound, but the people of the pueblo crowded around Sergeant Gonzales and