After this more or less comforting assurance the old man sat thinking for a minute or two with lips pursed. Now and then he took sips of his first cup of coffee.
"Were your haste not what it is, señorita," he said at length, "I would urge you to remain—you and your young compadre—until I might send for certain news of your father. But you are anxious in your mind—by goodness, yes!"
"Oh! indeed I am," cried Janice.
"Then we must forego the pleasure of your presence here at my poor dwelling," the señor said politely. "There is a way of going soon, I believe, to San Cristoval. Carlitos Ortez goes in his gas-car—his tin Leezie, he call it. You know?" and their host grinned suddenly.
"Cricky! an automobile?" gasped Marty. "Just the caper!"
"Sí, sí!" said Señor Abreguardo. "Carlitos, he swear by the tin Leezie. He will take you to San Cristoval if his car, it do not br-r-eak down—by goodness, yes!
"I hear," the man went on, nodding and still sipping coffee, "last evening before you arrive, señorita, Carlitos have engage to transport another traveler up country. He may take three passengers in his car as easily as one—and you will pay him twenty American dollars apiece."
"Whew!" murmured the frugal Marty. "Couldn't we buy his flivver for that and run it ourselves?"
The señor's eyes twinkled. "He would charge you double—I assure you," he said. "Carlitos is no lover of los Americanos. But he will do as I say. Besides," added the man very sensibly, "you would not know the road, and no American unattended could easily pass the bands of rovers now infesting this district."
"Sounds nice, don't it?" whispered Marty to Janice. "What say?"