"That is absurd," said Lilian sharply. "Is there no blacksmith at Laguna? Blacksmiths—hombre de hierro, entiende? Take one of those horses out and go for him immediately!"
"No possible, señorita. The black-a-smeet he sleep at night," explained the Canario, hopelessly.
Lilian stamped one little foot.
"It is no possible to waken him? Escucha Vd, and please try to comprehend. If I reach the sugar-mill too late you will be paid exactly what the Alcalde at Oratava says is your due. If I get there in time, and not otherwise, you will receive what I promised you. Now take out one of those horses, and I will help you."
The driver rubbed his forehead, and kicked his hat again. Then he declaimed a little further; and finally, while Mrs. Chatterton protested against Lilian's helping him, he proceeded to act upon her suggestion. The girl struggled with rusty buckle and raw-hide patched with string, and at last tethered one horse to a branch, while the Canario clattered off toward Laguna on the other. He had neither saddle nor stirrups, but that did not matter much to a man of his race.
The two women were left standing in the middle of the lonely road.
"I wish we had never come," wailed Mrs. Chatterton. "Mind that horse does not bite you, Lily."
"Poor beast," said the girl, stroking the creature's scraggy neck. "He did his best, and a great deal still depends on him. If that wretched man does not return soon the waiting will drive me mad."
Mrs. Chatterton found a seat by the wayside. Lilian paced to and fro, halting only to listen and gaze down the long dusty road. An hour passed slowly. Still only the rustle of the sugar-cane and the sighing of dark branches broke the stillness. There was no light visible; and save for the horse, the two anxious Englishwomen seemed the only living things upon the mountain-side.
"Can you hear nothing, auntie?" the girl asked; but the elder lady heard only the drowsy gurgle of water in a distant barranco, and the moan of the breeze.