A NEW FRIEND
The servants eyed the two boys curiously as they stepped upon the
verandah and the brothers were not reassured by any looks of
friendliness, though they were outwardly courteous. A withered looking
old woman, who looked to Jim as though she had Indian blood showed the
boys to a room, where they could wash up.
"Jove! Doesn't it dazzle your eyes, Jo?" exclaimed Jim, "to see a real
room, with a bed and a white spread, with those starched things where
the pillows ought to be."
"This room would certainly please Aunt Maria," remarked Jo. "That four
poster bed with the canopy over it, is an old timer, I'll warrant you."
"If I slept in this room," said Jim, "I would make a low bow to the bed
and then roll up in my blanket and go to sleep on the floor."
"How do I look?" asked Jo, after he had rubbed and scrubbed his face
for a long time.
"You have got off the first layer," replied Jim, "and look about the
color of a half-breed. Let me try my hand at polishing up."
"It will take you a week," remarked Jo discouragingly.
It cannot be truly said that they looked ornamental even when they were
clean, for Jim's face was badly torn, one side of it being scraped raw.
He got this memento when he tackled the Captain and fell down into the
canyon with him. One eye was blackened and the other cheek bruised.
These disadvantages were not to be overcome in a short time.
Jo was somewhat more presentable, but he, too, showed signs of the rough
time that they had had with the Captain and his "merry" crew. But in
spite of all this, there was something in their bearing, an honest
hardihood and manliness that could not be discounted by torn clothes and
bruised faces.
"This room looks dirty, now," said Jo, "I'm ashamed to leave it like
this."
"We will go outside to brush off our clothes," proposed Jim, "and I'm
going to empty this dirty water myself." He started out with it when he
met one of the servants in the hall. With many explanations, numerous
gestures and much excitement, she took the pail from Jim and disappeared
with it.
"They won't let you do anything for yourself here, Jo," reported Jim,
returning to the room.
This was correct and the boys noticed afterwards that the servants
regarded them with odd expressions of amusement and it was evident to
the sensitive Jo that they were being "guyed" by them, to use a modern
expression. The boys being American lads, were self-reliant, and were
accustomed to do everything for themselves, and, unknowingly they had
gone counter to a custom of constant service of the Spaniards. It was to
demean oneself, according to their code, to do any menial work.
"Might as well start for the dining room," proposed Jo. "I hate leaving
Tom and Juarez to their fate this way."
"I more than hate it," protested Jim, "but as you can't hurry these
people, we will make the best time by falling in with their way of doing
business."
Then they went out into a passageway and, taking the wrong turn, which
was quite easy in the rambling old house, they came to a door that
entered into the courtyard.
"My, but this is beautiful," exclaimed Jo. "It makes you appreciate
California better when you see a place like this."
"That hammock looks good to me," said Jim. "I would like to stretch out
in it right now."
Just then the door opened on the verandah and a really beautiful young
girl stepped out. She was probably seventeen years of age, dressed in
white, with a black mantilla over her equally black hair and her dark
cheeks glowed with color. A very romantic meeting, Messieurs, the
gallant young Americans at one end of the verandah and the Senorita at
the other. Then she saw Jim and Jo with their scarred and bruised faces.
With a little shriek, and clasping her hand to her eyes, she retreated
quickly to her room.
"What did you do to scare that girl, Jo?" inquired Jim severely of his
brother.
"Nothing," declared Jo, stoutly. "It was the sight of your face. It
would give a wooden Injun a chill." Jim felt of the said face
reflectively.
"I guess you are right, Jo," he admitted, "but you ain't so charming in
appearance that you would do any damage."
"Let's walk along this side," proposed Jo. "Perhaps we will locate the
breakfast."
"All right," agreed Jim.
So they stalked along, more or less conscious that a pair of dark blue
eyes were regarding them, and they thought they heard a trill of
laughter, but it might have been one of the maids. They need not have
felt embarrassed for there was the grace in their movements that goes
with strength and youth and suppleness.
They were walking under a perfect bower of flowers anyway. For this side
was beautifully latticed and over the lattice work grew vines with
purple and golden flowers, that would give a grateful shade when the
California sun would drive the fog away.
Under foot there was a double flagging of stone with trodden dirt on
either side.
"I don't see a broom anywhere," said Jo.
Just then they heard the voice of Senor Sebastian behind them and they
turned quickly.
"I had begun to fear, Senors, that you had become lost again."
"We were, partially, Senor."
"Our simple breakfast is ready now if you are," he said.
"We will have to brush the dirt off before we can go in," protested Jim.
"Antonio bring a brush," called the Senor. In a moment a gray-haired,
bent Mexican came with a big kitchen broom. Instantly the Senor flushed
with anger.
"Stupid one, my guests are not my horses. Have a care."
A suspicion flashed through Jim's mind that the ancient servitor had
brought the broom on purpose. It was clear that the servants did not
have a very high opinion of their American visitors. The next time he
returned he had gotten the right brush, and made a point of sneezing as
the dust flew from their mud-dried clothes. This made Jim laugh in spite
of himself.
"More dust than the Sirocco brings," said Jim. The old servitor regarded
him with a cunning eye.
"Si, Senor," he said, then he was seized with a perfect convulsion of
sneezing. This aroused his master's ire.
"No more of that, Antonio," he commanded, "or it will be the lash."
Antonio's cold was cured from that moment. Jim's mouth twitched at the
corners with the humor of it but he did not laugh now for that would be
discourteous to his host.
Finally the brushing was finished to the regret of the servants, who had
kept an amused eye on Antonio's performance, while pretending to be busy
on some trivial tasks near the Patio or court. In her own room, the
Senorita was faint with laughter as she watched Antonio dusting the two
American lads.
It was a simple breakfast that the boys found prepared for them in a
long, low dining-room, with its dark beams and white plastered walls.
The coffee was excellent, with a delicate aroma, and was probably the
best that Mexico could afford. There was a large plate of meat garnished
with peppers, and a mixed dish of vegetables that looked odd, but that
tasted deliciously. You may be sure that Jim and Jo appreciated their
meal, and they felt invigorated when it was finished, wishing all the
while, however, that they were on the trail of their captured comrades.
"Now, Senors, the horses are at the door. They are spirited, but I am
sure that you ride well."
This was a mere expression of courtesy on his part, for he did not
expect any such thing and thought to see his guests fall off if the
horses should rise on their hind legs, as they no doubt would, for there
was not a horse on the big rancho but what was peppery and spirited. No
sooner had the Senor spoke than Jim jumped to his feet, putting his hand
to his head.
"I have forgotten about Caliente!" he exclaimed. "It is my horse,
Senor," he explained to his host. "He is up the canyon because the gang
that attacked us last night were afraid of him."
"I will send for him," said the Senor.
"By the pool in the pocket," said Jim. "But I think I ought to get him
myself, though I appreciate your offer, but one's horse, you know--"
"I understand perfectly."
"I cannot leave him without food and water," said Jim.
"I will attend to that. I will send a trustworthy man," and he spoke to
the servant who was waiting on the table. In a short time he returned
with a tall, sinewy man, with straight black hair and dark skin. He gave
this man the necessary instructions and with a "Si, Senor," the man went
out.
"A good reliable fellow," remarked Jim. "He looks like an Indian."
"He is an Indian," replied their host, "but of the right kind. Your
horse is in good hands."
"Tell him to bring him down to the ranch," said Jim. "I'll trust
Caliente with him." The Indian was called back and under his stolid
demeanor was an appreciation of Jim's confidence.
Breakfast over they went out on the verandah, where they could see the
horses. They were spirited looking beasts all right. One was a bay, the
two front legs white stockinged, very trimly built, with a flashing eye,
that he kept rolling around. The boy who was holding him had his hands
full, as the bay would rise on his hind legs and strike out viciously
with his forefeet.
The other animal was much heavier than the bay. A brilliant black, whose
coat fairly shone with careful grooming. He had been standing
comparatively quiet until the three appeared upon the verandah of the
house, then, with a sudden surge backward, he dragged the Mexican boy
off his feet, shaking his head viciously.
"We ought to be armed, Senor," advised Jim. "If we should overtake those
men, they will put up a desperate fight."
"Certainly, Senor," he answered. "Come into this room and select your
weapon."
After both Jim and Jo were armed, they went out to the horses.