Nevertheless she was very much disturbed by this incident. It seemed so peaceful here; they had seen scarcely a soldier in crossing Texas—none at all since leaving the train. The fact that they were so near the border-line of war-ridden Mexico was now suddenly impressed upon her mind.
"Suppose Marty should be shot?" she thought. "Oh! what would Uncle Jason and Aunt 'Mira do to me?"
"Say!" the boy suddenly interrupted the train of these thoughts and with cheerfulness. "Say! it's up to us to do something. Let's get that old don out of the store and put it to him—straight. They tell me he's the whole cheese here."
"He seems kindly disposed," Janice agreed.
"He was a high muck-a-muck in Chihuahua once upon a time. But he favored the poor people—peons, they call 'em—and old Diaz who used to boss the whole o' Mexico run him out. I guess he's one good greaser that ain't dead," and the boy grinned.
"Oh, Marty!"
"Well, maybe he can help. And if his son-in-law is sheriff——"
At that moment Don José walked out upon the porch and seated himself in his broad armchair.
"Come on," said Marty, seizing his cousin's hand.
They approached the hotel veranda. This time the proprietor did not rise to greet them. He scarcely looked at them, in truth.