“But you have the same as said so. There has been a failure of the plans, Mr. Delores, and that is why I do not come with the word you expect. I will explain everything to you if you will give me a chance.”
“Why should I trust-a you?”
“Your daughter, safe at your side, answers that question.”
“Follow me,” said Juan Delores, turning about.
Frank had won, and he followed, Bart striding along at his side, saying nothing, but thinking a great deal. They entered the Black Woods by the dark trail, which it was now difficult to follow, proceeding till they came to a cabin in the very midst of the growth. No light gleamed from the cabin, but Delores said:
“Dis my home. Felicia, you take da stranger in da house and make da light. I take da horse. I come prit’ quick.”
Frank surrendered the mustang to the man, and then they followed little Felicia into the cabin, wondering why the home had been built in the midst of that gloomy growth of trees.
The child found matches and lighted an oil-lamp which stood on a table in the living-room—the room they had entered. The light showed them a comfortably, even tastily, furnished room, much to their surprise. It was small, but the walls were tinted blue, the floor carpeted, and the furniture was good. There were handsome paintings on the walls, while at the two windows were lace curtains. A handsome piano stood in one corner of the room, opposite an open fireplace of stone.
Both Bart and Frank were surprised, and they exchanged glances which told each other their feelings.
By the light of the lamp, Merry saw that little Felicia was pretty, indeed, with a dark, oval face, and snowy white teeth.