“She knows me, it seems,” he said. “We are not strangers, eh?”
“What a darling she is,” Rose answered, “and as much of a pet as a dog. I should think she did know you. Come, girls, let’s help him pack her.”
Quickly they all set to work to pack the contents of the basket on the mare in such a way as not to interfere with her being ridden. And, as they were all young and the sun shone and the soft wind blew fragrance at them up the valley, they were soon laughing together. The Indian told them how he had reared the horse, and how fleet she was, forgetting his trouble in answering their questions.
Everything was finished, and he shook hands with all three and then slipped into the saddle.
They stood watching as he threaded his way up the cañon until he reached a turning high up. There he stopped an instant, waving a salute, which they returned. The next moment he disappeared.
“I pray that all may be well with him,” murmured Ramona. “And now we must hasten back. We have barely time to get to the house.”
Much relieved at the fortunate ending of the adventure, the girls set off merrily on the homeward track. Ramona took them another way that brought them to a road. It was shorter, and since they did not fear to be seen now there was no need of keeping in the cover of the wild mustard.
“We have no time to push our way through that,” Ramona told them. “There is only a mile on this road, and then we gain a path through the orange orchard straight home.”
But they had not gone far before a cloud of dust warned them that horsemen were coming. Ramona quickly hid the empty basket in the green thicket beside the road, and the three girls walked quietly on.
It took but a few more minutes for the riders to meet them. There were three rough-looking men who pulled up their horses with a jerk.