“Why,” he explained, “a kau is a toldo, or tent.”
“Well, Cacique, I’ve heard of people, when overtaken by a blizzard on the North American prairies, killing a horse, disembowelling it, then getting inside and hauling the hole in after them; but it’s the first time I ever heard of a cow being used as a tent. We live to learn. Here’s the cow, mon ami. Will you walk inside, Señor Cacique?”
“Ah!” cried Castizo, rubbing his hands gleefully.
“Here’s a blaze of light and glory! Here’s comfort; here’s luxury!”
Then, even before he shook hands with Jill and Ritchie, Castizo must elevate his palms like a Spanish girl dancing, cock his head a little on one side, and smilingly sing a verse of a song which caused his eyes to sparkle with merriment, and made those laugh who listened to him.
“We’re glad to see you,” said Jill.
“Right glad to see you,” said Ritchie.
“I know you all are, boys. Thought I would lose myself, I suppose. Ah, no! I have been too long on the plains, and in forests, mountains, and wildernesses, to do that. My good Pedro here knows me.”
“Master likes to be alone—much,” said Pedro, a dark-haired, black-eyed, black-bearded, sturdy little Chilian.
This man’s face was preternaturally white. No sunshine ever scorched him brown, or even red; but perhaps the darkness of his hair brought out the pallor more. He had a pleasant smile, and two rows of teeth as white as a young puppy’s.