But Coronado was not bloodthirsty; having vented his spite, he let the
fellow go. "You saved my life," he said to Texas. "When we get back you
shall be paid for it."

At the moment he intended to present him with the two hundred dollars
which were cumbering his boots. But by the time they had reached Garcia's
hacienda on the way back to Santa Fé, his gratitude had fallen off
seventy-five per cent, and he thought fifty enough. Even that diminished
his profits on the expedition to four hundred and fifty dollars. And
Coronado, although extravagant, was not generous; he liked to spend money,
but he hated to give it or pay it.

During the four days which immediately followed his safe return to Santa
Fé, he and Garcia were in a worry of anxiety. Would Manga Colorada fulfil
his contract and cast a shadow of peril over the Bernalillo route? Would
letters or messengers arrive from California, informing Clara of the death
and will of Muñoz? Everything happened as they wished; reports came that
the Apaches were raiding in Bernalillo; the girl received no news
concerning her grandfather. Coronado, smiling with success and hope, met
Thurstane at the Van Diemen house, in the presence of Clara and Aunt
Maria, and blandly triumphed over him.

"How now about your safe road through the southern counties?" he said.
"Apaches!"

"So I hear," replied the young officer soberly. "It is horribly unlucky."

"We start to-morrow," added Coronado.

"To-morrow!" replied Thurstane, with a look of dismay.