Then the trees thinned and she saw, as she expected, another valley and beyond in the distance a range of rugged mountains, shimmering purple against the sky.

She reined in her horse.

“It’s very lovely,” she said approvingly, “but now I think we should turn back.”

“Just a little further, señorita,” the Mariposan pleaded, “there is much beauty to be seen, a waterfall.”

“Another day, I think,” Skye said firmly.

She glanced up at the sun as she spoke. It had lost its heat and was sinking lower in the sky. They had been riding for hours and it would be dark before they got back to Jācara.

“Con permiso de usted, señorita, let me show you the waterfall.”

It was the Indian who spoke now, a pleading look in his sorrowful dark eyes.

“Why are you so anxious for me to see this waterfall?” Skye enquired. “We can come this way another day.”

“Perhaps I shall not be with the señorita,” the Indian replied in a low voice, his Spanish unexpectedly fluent. “It’s a place with special associations for me. Señorita, be gracious.”

“Well, how far is it?” Skye asked grudgingly.

Jimmy would not approve of this, she was sure, but somehow she hated to be unkind and churlish to the men who were so obviously anxious for her to enjoy herself.

“Just a few minutes only, señorita, three, five, no more.”

Skye laughed. She knew full well that time and mileage meant nothing to an Indian.

“Very well,” she said, “I will go on for ten minutes and, if we have not found your waterfall by then, I shall turn back – you understand?”

“Si, si. Gracias, señorita.”

They were all smiles now.

She rode ahead, keeping to the right where she could see some rocks. If the waterfall existed, it would be there. Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty passed, yet no waterfall could be seen. But still Skye did not have the heart to turn back.

It must be just ahead for there was a trickling stream running beneath the trees, banked by high ferns, many strange and exotic specimens that she had never seen before. On they went, until at last, as the stream grew no wider and no deeper and the rocks were left behind, they came into yet another valley of grass and flowers.

Then Skye began to lose patience.

“It will be midnight before we get home at this rate,” she said sharply, “we must turn back. We will come here another day and start early.”

As she spoke, she looked at her two guides and for a moment she had a strange feeling that they were going to refuse to obey her.

Then, before they could speak, their faces cleared as if by magic and the Indian made a sound that was half an exclamation and half a grunt.

“Is it there?” Skye asked, turning her head, expecting to see the waterfall.