She rushed around the corner and stared across the street. There, a bag of newspapers slung across his shoulder, stood Carlitos selling a paper to an American.
“Can you beat that!” Peggy ejaculated, catching sight of Carlitos at the same time.
“Of all things!” Florence gasped.
They hastened across the street to his side. He greeted them half joyfully, half sheepishly; then, with a gesture to the grinning little Mexican newsboy beside him, he said, “I sell lots of papers for Diego. He say I very good ’cause I can speak de Spanish and de English.”
“You may be good at selling papers, Carlitos,” Jo Ann answered, “but you should’ve told your aunt Prudence where you were going. She’s been worried stiff about you.”
“Worried stiff—stiff,” he repeated, puzzled.
“Badly worried—mucho. She’s been afraid something terrible had happened to you. Come on to the hotel. We’re leaving for the mine in a few minutes.”
Reluctantly Carlitos parted with his newsboy friend.
As soon as they had brought Carlitos to the hotel room and Miss Prudence had delivered him a strong lecture, she urged them all to hurry and pack their few belongings and leave at once. “You know it’s a long hard trip to the mine, and I certainly don’t want to be riding horseback on that steep, rocky mountain trail after dark.”
“We don’t either,” said Jo Ann quickly. “Florence and I had one experience riding in the mountains in the dark and through a terrible storm, too, and we don’t want another, do we, Florence?”