"He lost his temper, I suspicion, and whacked ye, like as not. Well, I'll admit that is hard on a don of your size. But, take my word for it, you'll feel a sight better if you mount the high horse and forgive him, treat him with silent contempt. Nothin' makes you feel as good as that. Tried it myself."
"I must think about it, Don Jim."
"Well, do. And maybe you'll remember that I asked ye as a favour to let the priest off this time. He's been the best friend I ever had, and he's been the friend of many, young 'un."
Roldan stepped forward impulsively and grasped Hill's hand. "I will never speak," he said. "And you can say to Rafael that I wish him never to speak, either. Only, in return, Don Jim, I insist that you do not tell him that I promised you this. He shall not think that I fear him."
"Oh, I ain't goin' to have no conversation with him on the subject. Don't you worry about that. Now, I'll go after the mustangs. You lie down, and when I come back I'll cook that there rabbit for yer. You kin git dinner at the Ortegas', but don't stay there too long, for the priest's mighty sharp."
XXI
The boys were once more adrift in the wilderness. It was with mixed emotions that they said good-bye to the hospitable American and rode forth to new experiences and dangers. They were now tried adventurers; they knew their mettle; they also had a far more definite idea of what danger and experience meant than when they had fled from home with the light heart of ignorance. Roldan felt several years older, and Adan had moments of reflection. Moreover, the fine point of novelty had worn toward bluntness. Nevertheless, they felt no immediate desire to return to leading strings, and were glad of an excuse to pursue their way south. Los Angeles was a famous city, the rival of Monterey,—which neither had seen,—and a fitting climax to an exciting volume. The exact arrangement of that climax was compassed by the imagination of neither.
For two miles they kept in line with the foot-hills, then rode rapidly toward the valley, impatient for its warmth. So far, barring their sojourn in the Sierras, they had been favoured with fine weather; but winter was growing older every day, and the sky was thick and grey this morning.
The Casa Ortega stood on the shores of a large lake. The banks were thickly wooded. On its southern curve was a high mountain. As the boys approached, a vaquero sprang upon a mustang and rode toward them rapidly. Roldan recognised one of the men that had been at the rodeo.