She let a groom help her up on the horse’s back and, as she did so, two men came into the yard leading horses.

“Are these the guides who are to accompany me today?” she enquired of the owner. “Where are the boys I had yesterday?”

“I regret, señorita, they are otherwise engaged. These men are experienced guides and they will take you on a very pleasant ride.”

Skye glanced at them. One was an Indian and the other had the clear-cut almost aristocratic features that are characteristic of Mariposans.

They had mounted their horses and sat there, staring at her impassively. She did not know why, but she had an absurd inclination to refuse their company.

“I would prefer to have the boys I had yesterday,” she observed petulantly.

“Perdone, señorita,” the owner of the stables said, “tomorrow perhaps, but today it is impossible.”

“Very well.”

Skye turned her horse to lead the way from the stable yard. She was being fanciful, she thought. There was no reason why she should prefer the frightened boys who had run away yesterday when they thought that there was a chance of danger.

The breeze was still blowing in from the sea. She put up her hand to steady the wide-brimmed hat she wore and was glad that the air was cooler than yesterday.

She had not made the mistake again of wearing tight riding breeches. Instead she wore a loose riding skirt of soft red-brown leather that had been made for her in California. It was fringed Mexican-fashion and, as she rode down the dusty path from the stables, the eyes of the passers-by watching her from the roadside were full of admiration. Her shirt of leaf-green silk was cool against her skin and she felt untrammelled and happy.

For a moment she forgot her frustration and the irritations of the morning and thought only that the world was beautiful and that she was riding a horse that responded to her every wish almost instinctively.

The stables were a little way out of the town and off a main road, but, as they came down the side track, she saw a long low American car come speeding towards them in a cloud of dust.

She reined in her horse to let it pass and then realised that it was stopping and saw that its occupant was an Officer wearing the blue and white uniform of the Mariposan Army.

There was much saluting and clicking of heels and the flash of white teeth beneath an ingratiating smile.

“Como esta, Señorita Standish?” he asked. “I was afraid that I might miss you. I went to the yacht in the harbour and was told that you had already left.”

“I am sorry you have had the trouble of following me,” Skye said. “Do you wish to see me about anything important?”

“Yes, indeed, señorita, a message from El Supremo himself.”