Finally we entered, and the truth became clear to us--the _hacienda_ was deserted.

A little burial ground attached to the chapel told us why, for in it were several freshly-made graves, evidently of _peons_ or other servants, and in an enclosure, where lay interred some departed members of the Gomez family, another unsodded mound.

We discovered afterwards that it was that of the Senor Gomez, Emma's uncle by marriage.
"The footsteps of smallpox," I said, pointing to the graves; "we must go on." Emma was too overcome to object, for she believed that it was her aunt who slept beneath that mound, so once more we mounted the weary mules.
But we did not get far.

Within half a mile of the _hacienda_ we were met by two armed _rurales_, who told us plainly that if we attempted to go further they would shoot.
Then we understood.

We had penetrated a smallpox cordon, and must stop in it until forty days after the last traces of the disease had vanished.