“I’m afraid that he may have turned down to the creek to find you and been bitten by one of those horrible moccasins.”
“Oh, Lord! Well. Let’s get a light and come to look for him.”
“We can’t, Hilary. See. Tia Eusebia has taken the lantern.”
“Well, we will take those old copies of La Nacion and light them up for flares. We’ll go to the lodge first, for Lotta and her children may be ill or something. You put on this mantilla and I’ll just get my revolver from the drawer.”
He swathed her in her mantilla, but was rather a long time getting the revolver.
“Buck up, Hilary,” she called.
“Just a minute,” he answered; “the catch of this beastly revolver seems to have jammed, or something. I can’t get it open, to load it.”
“Let me have a try.”
“I’m afraid it’s rusted-in, or something. I ought to have oiled it when I put it away.” He brought it to her. She thumbed at the catch, which was fixed tight.
“I’ll give it a bang or two with the tin-opener,” he said. He gave it a bang or three with the tin-opener, and then again with Tio Ramón’s hammer, but failed to release the catch.