By the time the boys reached the little cluster of adobe buildings, the rain was descending in torrents, and, in spite of the tropical surroundings, the air was much too cold to be comfortable. As they approached the first house on the outskirts of the hamlet, the door opened and a blanketed peon, preceded by half a dozen dogs of all kinds and conditions, made his appearance. Rushing at the horses, the dogs made the neighborhood hideous with their barking, but they made no attempt to do more.
“What do you want?” called out the man, speaking in Spanish.
“Call off your dogs,” replied Donald, “so we can talk with you.”
The man did as requested, and the animals grouped themselves around him in the doorway.
“We want a place to get in out of the rain and something to eat,” Donald continued, as soon as the barking had ceased.
“There is no place here,” replied the peon.
“What is this building?” and Donald pointed at a small hut at one side, which was covered with a thatched roof.
“It’s the kitchen.”
“What does he say?” asked Billie, who hadn’t been able to gain the faintest idea of the conversation.
“He says that’s the kitchen,” replied Adrian.