XXI

The boys were once more adrift in the wilderness. It was with mixed

emotions that they said good-bye to the hospitable American and rode

forth to new experiences and dangers. They were now tried adventurers;

they knew their mettle; they also had a far more definite idea of what

danger and experience meant than when they had fled from home with the

light heart of ignorance. Roldan felt several years older, and Adan had

moments of reflection. Moreover, the fine point of novelty had worn

toward bluntness. Nevertheless, they felt no immediate desire to return

to leading strings, and were glad of an excuse to pursue their way

south. Los Angeles was a famous city, the rival of Monterey,--which

neither had seen,--and a fitting climax to an exciting volume. The

exact arrangement of that climax was compassed by the imagination of

neither.

For two miles they kept in line with the foot-hills, then rode rapidly

toward the valley, impatient for its warmth. So far, barring their

sojourn in the Sierras, they had been favoured with fine weather; but

winter was growing older every day, and the sky was thick and grey this

morning.

The Casa Ortega stood on the shores of a large lake. The banks were

thickly wooded. On its southern curve was a high mountain. As the boys

approached, a vaquero sprang upon a mustang and rode toward them

rapidly. Roldan recognised one of the men that had been at the rodeo.

"At your feet, senores," said the vaquero. "The Senor Don is away, and

all the family; but I am mayor domo, and in his absence I place the

house at your disposal."

"My father will reward you," said Roldan, graciously. "We would ask

that you give us dinner, a thick poncho each, for I fear that it will

rain before we reach Los Angeles, and that you will direct us which way

to go. The ponchos shall be replaced with fine new ones as soon as we

have returned home."

"Don Carlos would not hear of the return of the ponchos, senor. But

surely the senores will remain a few days, until the storm is over?"

"We dare not. But we will rest; and we have good appetites."

The mayor domo, still protesting, held the horses while the boys

dismounted, then showed them to two bedrooms and bade them rest while

dinner was preparing. "It will be an hour," he said. "I beg that the

senores will sleep."

The boys did sleep, and it was two hours before they were called. Then

they ate a steaming dinner, and forgot their fear of the priest: the

meagre diet of squirrel and rabbit of the past thirty-six hours had

lowered their spirits' temperature.

When they left the room the mayor domo awaited them with two thick

woollen ponchos--large squares of cloth with a slit in the middle for

the head.

"These will keep the rain out," he said, as he slipped them over the

boys' heads. "And there is food for two days in the saddle-bags, and

pistols in the holsters. Keep to the right of the lake, and enter the

mountains by the horse trail. It winds over the lower ridges. The

senores cannot lose themselves, for they should be on the other side

before dark--that mountain is the meeting of the two ranges and beyond

there are no more for many leagues. Then the senores must keep straight

on, straight on--never turning to the left, for that way lies the

terrible Mojave desert. By-and-by they will cross a river, and after

that Los Angeles is not far. Between the mountain and the river is an

hacienda, where they will find welcome for the night."

Roldan thanked him profusely, then said: "I have reasons for not

wishing ANY ONE to know that I have not returned to my father's house.

I beg that you will tell no one, not even a priest, that we have been

here, for three days at least."

"The senor's wishes shall be obeyed. The Senor Don returns not for a

week. No one shall know until then of the honour that has been done to

his house."

The boys rode rapidly through the wood over a broad road that had

evidently been traversed many times. The sky was leaden, but no rain

fell. Nor was there any wind. The lake could not have been smoother

were it frozen, although it reflected the grey above. Wild ducks and

snipe broke its monotony at times, now and again a jungle of tules. In

less than an hour the travellers were ascending the mountain by easy

grades, a black forest of pines about them. It was darker here, but the

road was clearly defined, and they talked gaily of adventures past and

to come. In Los Angeles they had many relatives, and they knew that a

royal welcome would be given them. They would see the gay life of which

they had heard so much from their brothers; and they magnanimously

resolved that after a week of it they would return to their anxious

parents.

"Ay!" exclaimed Adan, interrupting these pleasant anticipations, "it

rains at last."

A few drops fell; then the rain came with a rush. For some time the

wind had been rising; suddenly it seemed to leap upward to meet the

emptying clouds, then filled the pine-tops with a great roar, rattling

the hard branches, bending the slender trunks. The boys were on the

down grade, and there was no danger of losing the path, although the

rain had put out the sallow flame of the sun. They pricked their horses

and made the descent as rapidly as possible. But it was another hour

before they were on level ground once more. The rain was still falling

in torrents; the wind flung it in their eyes as fast as they dashed it

from their lashes. They could not see a yard ahead. The light of the

hacienda was nowhere visible. If its owner was away from home and his

house in darkness, then was their plight a sorry one indeed.

"There is only one thing to do," said Roldan, putting his hand

funnel-wise to Adan's ear. "We must keep due south until we come to the

river. Then, at least, we cannot go wrong."

"And that river we must cross!" said Adan, with a groan. "Dios de mi

alma!"

Roldan had great faith in his sense of locality, but in a blinding rain

on a black night with a mighty wind roaring inside one's very skull,

and whirling the heavy poncho about one's ears every few moments, it

was difficult to preserve any sense at all. They galloped on, however,

occasionally pausing to shout, straining their eyes into the darkness

on every side. But nothing came back to eye or ear. Apparently they had

the wilderness to themselves. There was no sign of even an Indian

pueblo.

It was during one of these halts that the boys ejaculated

simultaneously: "The river!"

"No," shouted Roldan, a moment later "it is only a creek."

"Are we lost?" demanded Adan; and even the loud tone had a note of

pained resignation in it.

"No; I think this must be what he meant. Some of the low people say

river for everything but the ocean. It is shallow, and we cannot turn

back. Come."

They rode along the bank until they came to an easy slope, then

crossed, and cantered on. In a very short time the storm was behind

them and the stars burst out, but there was no sign of habitation. They

kept on for an hour longer, hoping for a welcome twinkle below; but not

even a coyote crossed their path. As far as they could see in the

starlight they were on a plain of illimitable reach, bare but for low

shrubs whose kind they could not determine, although once Adan's coat

caught on a prickly surface. The atmosphere was warm and very dry.

Finally Roldan reined in.

"We must rest," he said, "and build a fire, or we shall be stiff

to-morrow. And it is long past the hour for supper."

"The sooner we eat and sleep and dry, the better for me," said Adan.

The boys dismounted and tied their horses to a palm, then looked about

for firewood. There was not a tree to be seen; they had not passed one

since they left the creek. Nor could they see any sign of flint with

which they might set fire to a clump of palms.

Adan, who had been on his knees, suddenly remarked: "There is not a

blade of grass, Roldan. What will the mustangs do?"

"They are eating the palm, perhaps that will do them until to-morrow.

But the poor things must be as hungry as twenty. Come, let us strip,

hang our things up, and run. The water is in my bones."

The boys peeled off the clinging steaming garments and ran up and down

until hunger sent them to the saddle bags. The mayor domo had provided

them abundantly, and once more they looked upon the world with hopeful

eyes.

"But we must sleep," said Roldan, "and it is not going to be easy for

mind or body--if there are rattlers about--with no fire. We must take

it in turns. It is warm; we do not need our clothes--ah!"--for Adan was

snoring.

Roldan was very tired but not sleepy. His brain, indeed, seemed

unusually alert, and he got up after a time and prowled about, pistol

in hand. He had been in solitudes before, solitude of plain and valley

and mountain; but there was something in his present surroundings that

reminded him of nothing he had heard of or seen. It was not only the

intense stillness, unbroken by so much as the flutter of a leaf, nor

even the vast expanse. The place seemed to possess a character of its

own, and its character was sinister and forbidding. Once or twice he

had been in the cemetery of the Mission near his father's rancho, and

the ugly feeling that he stood too close to death came back to him;

why, he could not define. There was no sign of a cross anywhere; but he

felt that he stood in a dead world, nevertheless. Once the ground

quivered beneath his feet, and the horrible idea occurred to him that

Southern California had been swallowed by an earthquake, and that only

this desolation was left.

He went back to his comrade, who slept soundly beside the horses, also

extended and breathing deeply. It was nearly morning when he woke Adan,

so little aptitude had his brain for sleep. But when Adan sat up he

fell asleep almost immediately, and when he awoke the sun was high.