In a mood to tease, Carlota now picked up these tethers and started to bind her brother’s hands with them. The first touch roused him and, finding what she would be at, he entered so noisily into the fun that Dennis, also, awoke.
“Whist! to ye. Sure, now’s not the time to be stirrin’ yet, is it?”
“Quite time, good Dennis. How is the arm? How did you sleep? Did you hear any of the wild beasts that you imagined were going to surround us?”
“Never a one did I, but a thankful man I’ll be, more by token, when I feels a good roof overhead once more. Not an Injun roof but a fine Christian sort. Arrah musha! ’Tis a load, is this barrowful o’ mud them queer people have piled on me arm, so it is!”
“Dennis! Dennis, the Grumbler! If it wasn’t a ‘good Christian roof’ you’ve slept under these last few nights, I don’t know what you’d call one. You went to that pueblo with murder in your heart and its owners treated you—splendidly. They fed you, nursed you, and mended you—bones and clothes. For you were a rough sight, my Dennis, till Paula sewed up the rips you’d given your grand attire in struggling with Cork. Poor Cork! to be ‘swopped’ for a—mule!”
“Sure, a burro’s no mule. A burro’s a donkey; an’ a donkey is a sweet little beast, like they have in old Ireland. But the creatur’s no name, so that job must be done over again, belike.”
“Oh! if you ‘swopped’ animals, you must have ‘swopped’ names. I got Carlota to ask and this one’s name is a wicked one, Dennis, it’s ‘Diablo,’” said Carlos.
“Yes, I know, I know, I was hearin’ that same but I’ll not have it. No, indeed. Troth, no name at all is better nor a bad one.”
“I’ll tell you. Call him ‘Captain’ after the real Captain who was so kind to us. I’m afraid he isn’t a good tempered beast, but that doesn’t matter. He’ll have plenty of work to do, here in the mountains, and—I’m hungry! Dennis, shall I wash your face for you, or can you do it for yourself with your well hand?” asked Carlota.
“Wash me face! Wash—me—face? An’ sure is it dirty?”