CHAPTER IX
PABLO, THE DANCER
It was due to its steep slope that Benoni had penetrated so far into the cave. To escape from the ‘norther,’ he had fled down it, stumbling and forced to go forward, till he reached that level inner chamber where consciousness returned to the children.
Now to reascend that narrow, jagged passage was almost impossible. Yet the same instinct which had guided him to safety remained with him as he crawled, struggled, twisted himself upward. The children clung to him, urged and pushed him, in their frantic efforts to escape whatever was pursuing them; for constantly nearer and louder drew that curious cry from the tunnel-like depths of the cavern. And, at last, when their force was almost spent—they found themselves in the sunshine!
The sudden light blinded them so that they clapped their hands over their eyes to shut it out and even Benoni dropped his head and blinked at the ground. Then, all at once, that hoarse shout was in their very ears; yet, out there in the open, sounding much feebler and more human.
Carlota opened her eyes and peeped through her fingers—stared—and bounded forward with an answering cry of delight:
“Pablo, the Simple! Only our own Pablo— Pablo!”
The man stared back at her in return, blinking at the light as she had done, till a smile spread over his dull countenance and he began to hop around her in that curious fashion which expressed his keenest pleasure.
Carlos looked up and joined his recognition to hers:
“Pablo, the Dancer! The Simple!”
At a glance the reason of the latter nickname was obvious: the face of this middle-aged man had little intelligence, though there was a certain craftiness in his small black eyes. He wore a blanket and the cast-off clothing of some ranchman, while his head was partially covered by a rimless straw hat. Around the hat was a faded red ribbon on which some rude jester had painted the legend: “Razzle Dazzle, the Dancer,” and the fellow wore it as if it were a royal headdress.