“Mire!” said Juana, in a hushed voice. “The poor innocent will be murdered in her bed. No, Niña, you must go and sleep in the hotel. No no, Niña, you can’t leave your window shutter open. No, no, impossible. See now, will you go to the hotel to sleep? The other señora does it.”
“I don’t want to,” said Kate.
“You don’t want to, Niña? Ah! Entonces! Entonces, Niña, I will tell Ezequiel to sleep here outside your door, with his pistol. He has a pistol, and he will sleep outside your door, and you can leave your shutter open, for air in the hot night. Ah, Niña, we poor women, we need a man and a pistol. We ought not to be left alone all the night. We are afraid, the children are afraid. And imagine it, that there was a robber trying to open the bolt of your door! Imagine it to yourself! No, Niña, we will tell Ezequiel at mid-day.”
Ezequiel came striding proudly in, at mid-day. He was a wild, shy youth, very erect and proud, and half savage. His voice was breaking, and had a queer resonance.
He stood shyly while the announcement was being made to him. Then he looked at Kate with flashing black eyes, very much the man to the rescue.
“Yes! Yes!” he said. “I will sleep here on the corridor. Don’t have any fear. I shall have my pistol.”
He marched off, and returned with the pistol, an old long-barrelled affair.
“It has five shots,” he said, showing the weapon. “If you open the door in the night, you must say a word to me first. Because if I see anything move, I shall fire five shots. Pst! Pst!”
She saw by the flash of his eyes what satisfaction it would give him to fire five shots at something moving in the night. The thought of shots being fired at him gave him not the least concern.
“And Niña,” said Juana, “If you come home late, after the light is out, you must call Ezequiel! Because if not, Brumm! Brumm!—and who knows who will be killed!”