Billie grinned, but made no reply.
"I think we may all stay here for a few hours," suggested Lucia. "Father is so much better that I think we may have a little music. I will play some accompaniments on the guitar and Josie can sing."
"That will seem a good deal like being back in the States," declared Adrian. "With the Stars and Stripes flying over my head, a brigade of American troops on guard and an American girl singing, I can almost forget I am on Mexican soil."
"How about the accompanist?" queried Billie.
"Oh!" laughed Adrian, "we're quite willing to adopt her. Hey, Donald?"
"Don't ask me, Ad. Ask Billie."
"I am sure we could do no better," was Billie's gallant reply.
Lucia's suggestion was carried out and for a couple of hours there was a merry little party under Santiago's hospitable roof. Even the mysterious box was forgotten and the young people were giving themselves up to a jolly good time, when suddenly there came a scream which caused every one to turn their eyes toward the room in which the sick man was supposed to be lying.
But there in the doorway he stood, his long night robe reaching nearly to the floor and his thin black hair standing almost on end.
"Father!" cried Lucia, rushing toward him "What is it?"