‘“Don’t you remember me, Donna Pepita?” Rube said, laughing as he lifted the sombrero which had shaded his face.
‘The girl started violently. “Ah, Signor Americano, is it you? I might have known, indeed,” she said, smiling, “by your size, even wrapped up. This, of course, is Signor Seth: you are always together. But come in,” she said.
‘“Who have you got inside, Donna Pepita?” Rube asked. “I know that I can trust you, but I can’t trust others, and I don’t want it known I am here.”
‘“The house is empty,” Pepita said. “My father is out. There is only old Jacinta at home.”
‘At this moment an old woman made her appearance at the door, and at a word from Pepita took our horses, while Pepita signed to us to enter.
‘“Excuse me, signora,” I said. “We will go first and see our horses stabled. It is our custom; one never knows when he may want them.”
‘I thought Pepita looked annoyed, but it was only for a moment, and then she said something in one of the country dialects to the old woman. She nodded her head, and went off round to the back of the house, we leading our horses, and following her. The stables, I observed, were singularly large and well kept for a house of its size; but, to my surprise, instead of going to the long range of buildings, the old woman led the way to a small shed.
‘“Ain’t these stables?” said I.
‘She shook her head, and said in Spanish, “They were once, but we have only two horses. Now they are used as a store for grain; the master has the key.”
‘I could not contradict her, though I believed she was telling me a lie. However, we fastened our horses up in the shed, put the pistols from our holsters into our belts, and, taking our rifles in our hands, entered the house.