Just then a furious voice rang out, “Put that olla back in the car!”
She wheeled about to see the shorter one of the men rushing angrily toward her.
CHAPTER XII
HEADING FOR TROUBLE
In another moment the man had grabbed the olla out of Jo Ann’s hand and had placed it back in its nest of straw in the car. “What are you doing?” he demanded sharply, edging between her and the car. “Leave these alone!”
Jo Ann detected a note of alarm in his voice. “He’s afraid I’ve discovered the contents of that olla,” she thought. Determined to conceal her nervousness, she replied in as cool and controlled a voice as she could muster, “How much will you take for that olla?”
The man shook his head. “No—no. It is not for sale.”
“I will give you fifty centavos for it.”
“No—no. I cannot sell it.”
“Well, how about seventy-five centavos, then?”
The merest shadow of a smile began to spread over the man’s dark, unshaven face. Perhaps here was a chance for him to make a few extra centavos, and no one would be the wiser. He reached down in the car and after rummaging about for a few moments drew up another olla similar to the one Jo Ann had picked up. “Here—I let you have it,” he said, offering it to her.