“Hello! That horse is new. Is he yours, mister? What’s the matter with him? Humph! I guess you’re new, too, aren’t you? I never saw you in our valley before. Where’s your ranch?”
The questioner was a blue-eyed, fair-haired little chap whose close resemblance to Jessica proclaimed him her brother; but he was younger, sturdier, and less courteous than she. Yet his prolonged stare at the stranger had less of rudeness than surprise in it, and Mr. Hale laughed at the frank inspection.
“You look rather ‘new’ yourself, my man. About eight years, aren’t you?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Lads of my own.”
“Where?”
“Several thousand miles away, over the Atlantic coast.”
“Why didn’t you fetch ’em?”
“Couldn’t afford it.”
“Oh! couldn’t you? H-m-m.” Then he turned his attention to Pedro, with the remark: “Why aren’t you sick, like ’Tonio said? Making my sister come way up here for nothing. Don’t you dare do that again, I tell you. You’re just as well as ever, and I smell coffee. Come on, Luis!”