Carlos could only sit and stare, his curiosity increasing when the foremost rider of the group burst into a hearty laugh of relief and amusement. Then he exclaimed:
“So, you two ferocious creatures are not young Indians, after all! But pray tell me if this is a land where the girls act as guides and protectors to their brothers.”
Neither child fully understood this speech, yet Carlos perceived that, for the second time that day, he was being ridiculed. First, by old Marta, and now by this stranger. This made him forget that cardinal virtue of instant and unquestioning hospitality in which he had been trained and to retort:
“If people do not like the land and its customs they needn’t come into it, no! As for girls ‘protecting’—Pooh! Everywhere men who are men are brave as they are tender and, my father says, to be indulgent is not weakness, always.”
The stranger’s amusement had given place to a frank admiration of the beautiful boy thus arrogantly assuming manhood’s airs, even in part deserving them. Also, the younger gentleman courteously asked:
“Will you kindly tell me, little lady, if there is water near at hand? We are all very thirsty.”
“Surely. Right here in the schoolroom. It is but a tiny way—. Only those queer things—Benoni—I’d show you if it wasn’t for them. I’ll show you, anyway. Here, Carlos!” and with a swift, graceful movement the girl tossed the bridle toward her brother and slipped to the ground. Then lightly catching the bit-ring of the questioner’s horse, she ran forward at a pace which compelled the animal she led to trot. “Right yonder, where the osiers grow, is the most delicious spring of water in all New Mexico. So my father thinks.”
Everybody now followed Carlota, even Benoni; though he planted his forefeet firmly every once in a while as if protesting against the cruelty of his young master in thus forcing him to keep so near those terrible umbrellas; but, fortunately, by the time they reached the spring these obnoxious things had been furled and laid upon the ground.
“The basket, brother! The basket—hurry!” cried the little girl, promptly emptying its precious cakes upon the grass as he tossed it to her. Then she filled it with water and offered it to him who had first complained of thirst.
“Thank you, little lady, but my father needs it most. All the time he suffers from the heat and dryness, and is always ready for a drink. Though I doubt if he has ever used a cup so odd and pretty.”