"Morando," said the old don when they were apart, "you may not know the keen instincts of our wild animals for change in weather. Bear and mountain lion are hurrying through the forest here back to the high mountains. During the drought they have been under foot, tame as dogs. My fighting peons brought me word of this sudden activity of the animals, and just now I observed it for myself. It means the quick coming of a storm."
"Maldito! is it sure? Leagues from home are we and scores of women folk with us."
"To make doubly sure I rode my horse to the summit of a high bluff. The clouds are rolling hitherward in masses black and angry."
"What, think you, we would better do?"
"I'll order the peons to bring out the carretas and saddle the horses. 'Twill be a few minutes only. Then I'll call for silence and ask all to take conveyance or mount, speaking of imminent storm in such way as not to give unnecessary alarm. For myself, I'll lead my fighting peons; let come next the carretas; then marshal you the caballeros."
As said so was it done.
Soon all was in readiness, and the procession was tearing over the road by which it had come early in the day. Doña Carmelita had given her carreta to Señora Valentino, while she rode with her dueña. Provision was also made for Señora Barcelo, Mendoza declaring it unsafe for a woman to ride horseback under the circumstances.
As they sped along darkness overtook them. Intermittent lightning darted forked tongues across the sky, while thunder pealed and reverberated. The pent-up rain of months poured on the returning picnickers. In the dry creek-beds streams arose even while they were crossing.
The dueña's carreta was somewhat slower than the others and thus was last in the line. Morando rode by Carmelita's side.
Suddenly the heavens seemed to split. Torrents of water roared on the hillside, inundated the roadway, and poured over carretas and horsemen.