“The Norther didn’t Get Us. God and benoni Took Care of us. we Cannot come Home Yet. Carlos and Carlota Manuel.”
Then she placed the leaf in the Indian’s hand and looking closely into his eyes, directed:
“Listen to me, Pablo. Listen the very sharpest ever was and with no forgetting. Are you paying strictest ’tention?”
“Umm.”
“You must go straight to Refugio. You are to take this leaf to old Marta. You know her, well. She is the old, old woman who gives you bread and meat when you come stealing around and my father is away. You are to give it to her and nobody else. Who are you to give it to, Pablo?”
“Marta. She give Pablo chicken tamales. Umm. Good.”
Before she could reiterate her instructions he had started. He held the printed leaf in both hands before him and steadfastly studied it. Maybe he had never felt of such importance; and if his vagrant mind could have kept to one idea the precious missive would have soon been in the housekeeper’s hands. As it was, trifles attracted this unfortunate postman, and he had wandered hither and thither in pursuit of them, till it was on the evening of that seventh day when he at length delivered it.
Where, at that hour, were the little runaways?
CHAPTER X
A PICTURE IN THE SKY
The searching parties from Refugio and the neighboring ranchos had all gone east, west, or south. To the north lay an unbroken mesa, or plateau, having no shelter within a known distance. Nobody dreamed that the children would follow other than familiar routes, and the first point explored was the “shearing-place,” belonging to Refugio itself.