“Nor I, San Jose! Do you s’pose—would they dare—just because our father is away—”
Whatever Carlota’s fear, Carlos now shared it. He added his entreaties to hers and Marta limped into the house after their little Navajo blankets and sombreros, which they put between them upon Benoni’s back, while Carlos cried:
“Now we’re ready for anything that comes. Don’t sing till we get home, dear Marta, and— Adios! Guay, Benoni! Vamos!”[5]
CHAPTER II
UNEXPECTED GUESTS
Before they had ridden far, Carlos, whom Marta had laughingly compelled to take the place behind his sister, reached over her shoulder and laid his hand upon the bridle rein, saying:
“Wait, Carlota. Turn him around. I want to go to the schoolroom and get my riata[6] and my little hammer.”
“Let’s! I’ll get my posy-box, too. Maybe we’ll find some nice new things to show our father—when he comes home,” she wistfully answered.
“Of course!” assented the boy, wheeling Benoni about, only to pull him up again in sheer amazement.
Upon the plain before them was a group of four persons, neither Indians, neighbors, nor any white settlers whom the children knew, though the two burros were of the familiar type of vaqueros[7] employed upon their own rancho. The other two strangers were mounted upon fine horses and wore queer clothing, once white, but now soiled and travel-stained. On their heads were curious canvas helmets with green linings and floating, gauzy veils. Also, these two men carried monster umbrellas of white and green, which strange articles nearly sent Benoni into convulsions. He trembled like an aspen, and his suffering promptly restored Carlota’s own composure. She soothed him in her gentlest accents:
“There, there, my darling! Whoa, my pretty! Dearest beastie, don’t you fear, heart of my life! Carlota will take care of Benoni. So she will!”