Jo Ann nodded. “I was just thinking that very same thing. The fact that Carlitos is the rightful owner of the mine would give him a reason for wanting to get him out of the way.”
“That sounds terrible,” Florence shuddered, “but it’s possible, all right.”
As they neared the cave, the girls could hear the mother and grandmother talking rapidly in shrill excited voices. On entering they saw José crouched disconsolately in a corner, his face buried in his hands.
They stepped across to his side, and Florence began quickly, “José, Pepito has told us about Carlitos. Tell us all about what happened to him—how he disappeared—and where you saw him last. Maybe we can help you find him.”
José raised his head, his dark troubled eyes lighting a little at sight of the two girls who had helped to save his son’s life only a few days before.
“Ah, Papá,” put in María just then. “The señoritas—our friends—they will help us find Carlitos.”
“We hope we’ll be able to help,” Florence told them earnestly.
Brokenly then José began by telling how after several efforts he had succeeded in selling only a few centavos’ worth of the charcoal, and so he decided to exchange some of it for food. Leaving Carlitos outside to watch the burro, he had gone into the little general store of the village. After he had bargained with the storekeeper to exchange corn, frijoles and coffee for a bag of charcoal, he had hurried out to get it.
To his amazement Carlitos and the burro were not in sight. Thinking they might have wandered down the street, he started off to look for them. They were nowhere to be seen, and after he had searched in vain all over the few streets of the village, he was in despair. Finally, after inquiring of several people, he found a man who said he’d seen a boy and a man go by driving a burro—only there were no bags of charcoal on the burro.
“I search much then, but I cannot find Carlitos or the burro,” he ended sorrowfully. “I have much fear that harm has come to Carlitos.”