“Si, senor,” was the rejoinder.
“Santa Maria,” exclaimed Ramon, “here is good fortune. It is those Border Boys and their companions delivered into our hands for the plucking. You did well to let them stop here, senora. They are all asleep, you say?”
“Si. It is but a few minutes ago that my man crept up the ladder and peered into the garret in which they are sleeping. They are all snoring like the Yankee pigs they are.”
“Bueno. We will attend to them shortly,” was the rejoinder; “but now to dispose of the girl. Have you a room in which we can confine her?”
“Yes, in the small room at the other end of the house. It was formerly used as a wine room and is without windows, except a small one at the top for ventilation. It has a strong door, too, for when we grew vines and made wine, thieves used to visit us, ill fortune light upon them.”
“That’s a queer sort of morality,” thought Jack, “for if I ever saw or heard of a precious band of rascals, these are surely they. That poor senorita! We must devise some way of aiding her to escape, but what can we do? I guess I’ll sneak back now while they are busy elsewhere and wake up the others, for if I’m not mistaken we are going to have a tough fight on our hands before very many minutes.”
As Jack cautiously slipped back by the way he had come, he saw the senorita being led away into the house, proudly disdaining to parley further with her captors.
“There’s a girl in a thousand,” thought Jack to himself, “no hysterics or uproar about her. We’ve just got to help her out of the clutches of those ruffians.”