“Hello, there! Where in the world did you come from, papooses?”
The question was asked with a smile so kind that Carlos laughed as he answered:
“We aren’t papooses. We’re regular white Americans.”
“Well, you don’t look it, with that brown face! Where do you come from?”
“We came from home, Señor,” answered Carlota, because her brother was now absorbed in watching the other cavalrymen and heedless of the question.
“So ho! Well, where is ‘home’?”
“Refugio.”
“Hello! Hel-lo! That so? I’ve heard of that rancho. It’s a long way from here. Where are the others of your party?” still queried the officer.
“There isn’t any others.”
“What’s that? No others? Only you two kids?”