“Yes. But we can go and go, day after day, can’t we?”
“I—I s’pose so,” she slowly answered.
But this “wild goose chase” was losing its charm for Carlota, and she now often thought of the Captain’s opinion that they should never have left home, unless bidden to do so by a wiser man than Miguel.
However, here was Dennis, forgetting his trading operations in delight at reunion with Carlos; and here, too, was unusual commotion among the villagers. Because Paula would insist that this should be a fiesta, a day of merry frivolity, such as suited her Mexican nature, which age had not wholly altered.
The children’s impatience at delay was overruled. Indeed, the affair proved to be one to be forever remembered, for the fiesta lasted more than three days; so that it was well along in the morning of the fourth day before the guests for whom the holiday was made were allowed to depart. Even then, they did not go alone. Two young men acted as guides to direct them whither the Burnhams had probably encamped. Paula, also, went; riding an ancient and most sedate burro, as black as her own hair that even yet had not a thread of white mixed in it.
When they had been bidden a last, grave farewell by the assembled Pueblos, the children were led out upon the terrace and there a fresh surprise awaited them.
“What is this? Why—what?” asked Carlota, her eyes shining with anticipation, for, by the instincts of her own generous heart, she already guessed the truth.
Paula laughed, like one who had suddenly regained her youth, and answered gayly:
“One wouldn’t wish the mouse-colored, blazed-face burro die of loneliness by the way, is it not?”
“Tell me, quick, quick! Oh! Paula, tell!”