The woman readily agreed to go with them, and in a few minutes they were shown the bags of charcoal.
A gleam of recognition immediately shone in José’s eyes. “Sí, señorita. These are the bags made by my mother.” His voice changed to a mournful note. “That boy was Carlitos. That man was making him beat the burro—he throw this charcoal over the wall. He very bad hombre.”
Jo Ann, who had caught the meaning of José’s words, put in quickly, “We’ve got to find that man and get Carlitos away from him. There’s no telling what he’ll do to him.”
“But José said he followed him for some distance out this way.” Florence wheeled about. “José,” she asked, “which direction do you go to get to that mine you came from?”
“You follow this road.” He gestured toward the winding road leading across the valley to the range of mountains.
Jo Ann spoke up impatiently, “Let’s start after Carlitos this minute. If we could find some horses to ride, we could overtake that man and Carlitos even if they did have several hours’ start. That man wouldn’t have taken the burro if he hadn’t intended using it. I know he can’t be traveling fast with a burro along. Come on, let’s see if we can find some horses.”
“We can get some horses here, I’m sure. Dad always gets his horse here when he comes to see us—a burro’s too slow for him.” Florence stopped a moment, then added hastily, “I believe I’ll call Dad—I can phone to him from here—and tell him what’s happened and——”
“Oh, Florence,” Jo Ann broke in, “ask him if we can’t go straight on to the mine. Tell him we’ll take José with us, and tell him if we don’t follow that man and Carlitos at once we’ll never see Carlitos again!”
“Well, all right. Come on. We’ll go back to the store—that’s where the only telephone in the village is. Come on, José.”