She called Tanto, but he did not seem inclined to lie down. Instead, after the manner of dogs, went off on an exploring expedition of his own.
Guadalupe must have fallen asleep, for she was awakened by Tanto licking her face.
“Go away,” she exclaimed, springing to her feet, and then she noted that it was afternoon.
“I must have slept a couple of hours,” she thought. Then, as she started back by the way she had come: “Come, Tanto, we must be going.”
But Tanto refused to go, and when she turned to call him, he indicated by every means he could that he wanted her to go in the opposite direction.
“What is it?” she asked.
Tanto barked loudly, and again started off in the opposite direction, stopping every few feet and looking back to see if she were following.
“Do you want me to go that way?” she asked, taking a few steps toward him.
The dog barked joyfully and gave every evidence of pleasure.
“Well, go on, then,” she finally said. “You may know the way home better than I.”