“If only we had Carlitos here with us, too! Oh, Florence, where do you suppose he is now? He might get washed off the trail if that man forces him on in this storm.”
“I believe that kidnaper’ll do exactly what José is doing—seek refuge till the storm checks,” Florence comforted.
“I hope so. He and Carlitos might be under just such a rocky ledge as this right now. What puzzles me is how they could’ve got this far without our overtaking them.”
As soon as José had tied the horses to some scrubby bushes he hurried over to Florence’s side and shouted, “I go now to look for Carlitos. We are getting near the mine, and I must find him.”
“But, José, the storm is terrible. Wait a little while.”
After the rain had checked a little, José turned to Florence and said, “Wait for me here, sabe? I go now.” With that he started off and disappeared in the darkness once more.
“Oh, if he can just find Carlitos!” Jo Ann said wistfully.
She drew back hastily against the rocky wall in an effort to escape a sudden gust of rain, as did Florence.
“This isn’t as good a shelter as I thought,” Florence gasped. “The wind—must be changing—to another direction. It’s cold, too.”
“Yes, it is. Let’s move over farther this way.”