“If they had, it’s funny that Don Camillo didn’t send some of his men to follow them right then, instead of waiting until after the attack,” argued Patsy.
“I suppose he thought he had those poor Englishmen just where he wanted them,” replied Bee. “He knew that they couldn’t escape him. He thought, perhaps, that it would be easy to make them confess where they’d buried the box. You know history says that the Spanish adventurers who first came over here made a practice of torturing the Indians to find out where they kept their gold. Sir John and his men knew they’d be killed by Don Camillo even if they confessed, so they preferred to die by torture rather than tell the secret.”
“It’s horrible to think of, isn’t it?” shuddered Patsy. “I’m glad we were born three hundred years later than those dangerous times. No one’s life was safe then. Say, Bee,” Patsy sat up with sudden energy. “I’m going to ask Auntie if we can’t walk a little way down the beach this morning. If she says ‘yes’ we’ll change our bathing suits and ask Dolores to go with us. I’m anxious to see how it looks down there at that lower end of the curve. Come on.”
Springing to her feet, Patsy raced across the sands to where her aunt and Dolores were quietly sitting, each absorbed in a book. Dolores’ fondness for Nature did not include any desire whatever for a close acquaintance with the ocean. No amount of persuasion on the part of the Wayfarers could induce her to go bathing with them.
“Auntie, dear,” began Patsy in coaxing tones, as she and Bee came to a pause before the two on the sands, “do you care if we change our bathing suits and go for a little walk down the beach? We want you to go with us, Dolores. We won’t go far, Aunt Martha, and will be back in just a little while.”
“Very well.” Miss Carroll looked up placidly from her reading. “I trust you, Dolores, to keep these two reckless girls out of mischief,” she added, turning to her companion.
Dolores laid her book aside and rose in instant acquiescence to Patsy’s plea.
“Surely, I will go with you, Patsy, querida,” she said in her soft voice. “Have no fear, Señora Martha, that I shall not keep the very stern eyes upon these two,” she mischievously assured Miss Carroll.
“Wait a minute till I see if Mab and Nellie want to go,” Patsy said. Running down to the water’s edge, she called out her invitation to the Perry girls, who were industriously practising a new swimming stroke which Mr. Carroll had taught them on the previous day.
“No, we don’t want to go,” declined Mabel. “We’re just beginning to get this stroke down fine. Go away, Patsy Carroll.”