“If a person does wrong I never heard that it was wise to keep on doing it!” said the worried Captain, testily.
“Have I done that?” asked the child, really astonished.
“I call it wrong to make trouble and anxiety for a great number of people, as your running away from home must have done. Even for me, of whom you never heard before.”
Carlota wriggled herself aside.
“I will get right down, Señor Captain.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind. Remember what I’ve said, and I’ll scold no more. I will leave you two at the station. I will have telegrams sent east and have an advertisement put in the leading newspapers of the country. If the news comes to your father, as it probably will, and certainly should, your troubles will be over. He’ll attend to the rest. This is what I mean by your causing me trouble. I shall do all this, not because you had any right to put it upon me, but simply for humanity’s sake. Now, next time you are tempted to act foolishly, stop and think if you’re going to worry anybody else with your silliness. That’s all.”
It was the sure end of the severest lecture Carlota had ever received, and the worst of it was that she felt she deserved it. She could only say that she was truly sorry and resolve to “do a lot of thinking next time before she did any acting.” Then she added, as a bitter memory was stirred:
“I begin to understand that if we hadn’t run away from Refugio our Benoni wouldn’t have died.”
“Not so fast, little girl, toward that conclusion. The issues of life and death belong to God. We have no concern with them. Our business is to do right, as nearly as we can, and—now let’s try a canter!”
At that moment a trooper rode up and saluted.