The boys followed him through the brush, the sweet-scented chaparral on which the honey-dew still lingered, to another and smaller clearing. Here were several long rows of earthen huts, three or four feet high, out of which smoke poured through an aperture in the roof of each. Near by was a broad creek to which the bank sloped gently from the clearing. The creek, some three feet deep, murmured over coloured stones and sprouting trees. The long fine strands of the ice grass trailed far over the water, motionless. Huge bunches of maidenhair, delicate as green lace, clung to the steep bluffs on the opposite side. Forests of ferns grew close to the water's edge. Down through a rift in the cliffs tumbled a mountain stream over its rocky bed.
"Are they stewing in those things?" asked Roldan.
The Indian nodded. Roldan, followed closely by Adan, approached one of the temascals and opened the door cautiously. At first they could see nothing, so dense was the smoke; but when much had rushed out through the new opening, they saw two prostrate figures, sweating from every pore. Their eyes were closed, they breathed stertorously. The expression on their heavy faces was beatific.
"Caramba!" exclaimed Adan, as Roldan closed the door, "I am glad they like it. What a lot of trouble to get clean."
"As they never take a bath, they couldn't get clean any other way; and besides it rests them after any great exertion—Mission raiding, for instance—and they also fancy it drags every humour out through the pores of the skin. They'll be coming out soon. Let us go down to the creek and wait."
The smoke was ascending upward in straight columns through the still air, scarcely clouding the brilliant morning, not a wreath wandering into the aisles of the forest. The sun climbed higher, melting the light fall of snow, its rays dancing among the silver ripples of the water, vivifying the many greens about the creek.
The boys amused themselves flinging pebbles at the darting trout and discussing chances of escape.
"We must not fly too soon," said Roldan, "or we shall run into the soldiers. Of course they are scouring the country after these robbers."
"This is a good place to hide in until the Mission food gives out; but I'd prefer even the barracks to living on acorns—Ay, look!"
The door of one of the temascals had opened. A limp figure tottered forth and down to the bank. He almost fell into the creek, but had sufficient wit uncooked to rest his head on a projecting stone. Presently came another, then another, and another, until the bright rocks were covered with dusky forms, the heads bobbing just above the surface, supported on stump or stone. The boys barely recognised Anastacio. Where was that commanding presence, that haughty mien? Bowed like an old man, blind from smoke, with simmering brain, he reeled into the water with as little dignity as his creatures.