"You know heem?" cried the old man amazedly. "Why did you not speak to heem, then? He is gone."
"Gone!" chorused the cousins.
"I sorrow to tell you—yes. He is gone this half hour. He was bargaining for my best horse, and he went out through my stables in the rear. He is already at the crossing by now. Sí, señorita. I am sure your friend—Señor Hoo-kiss, is he called?—did not see you."
Janice and Marty glanced at each other. The boy, first to find his voice, muttered:
"Of all the gooneys that ever got away from the backwoods, we take the bun!"
"The señorita is greatly disappoint?" queried the kind old man. "Señor Hoo-kiss has gone to La Guarda. If the señorita and her compadre," and he smiled at Marty, "go there she may overtake los Americanos, eh? The boy, Manuel, is to be trusted."
"We might's well go, Janice," groaned Marty. "No use even waitin' for dad to answer my telegram. It's all off about Tom Hotchkiss."
"Oh! poor Uncle Jason!" murmured Janice.
"We'll take a ride with Manuel, Don José," said Marty briskly. "And can you get us a good supper before we start?"
"I will have a chicken killed, señor," said the old man, going indoors to give the order.