“Put him in that small shed,” directed the senorita, pointing to a little building which stood at the edge of the ranch yard. “Then come to the house and rest and eat.”
Quite willingly the two boys locked the silent prisoner in the little shed and returned to the ranch house. The energetic little senorita had hot water, soap and towels laid out for them, and they fairly revelled in the washing process.
“When I was a kid,” grinned Terry, “I loved to have a dirty face, but now I know just what luxury it is to feel clean again.”
“Hope I don’t break this comb of the senorita’s trying to comb my tangled hair,” grunted Jim. “I can’t honestly say that we are any beauties to appear at the table of the young lady.”
When they sat down with the youthful and beautiful owner of the little ranch to eat she said: “My men are at present eating, but as soon as they have finished I shall send one of them to Ned’s ranch for your friends.”
“That is very kind of you, Senorita,” murmured Jim, as he ate ravenously.
“Nonsense!” laughed the girl, tossing her head. “You have been through such thrilling adventures of late! Tell me more about them.”
As Jim knew more Spanish than Terry it fell to him to relate the experiences of the past few days. They were lingering over their coffee when an excited ranchman burst into the room. All three at the table rose quickly and the man poured something out in some unknown dialect.
“Ride immediately to the Scott ranch for help!” commanded the senorita, growing pale.
“Alas, senorita, the house is surrounded, I cannot go,” said the man, in Spanish.