“Well, ladies, we are here,” remarked Mr. Campbell, “and I hope you’ll find it to your several tastes.”
“I am sure we will,” answered Mary politely, while the others moved in a silent procession toward the house.
Miss Campbell was already wondering how long they could endure this crude and lonely existence a hundred miles from anywhere. The contagion of doubt had indeed spread like a plague over the entire company, and all for the want of a bath, a supper and a good night’s rest.
“Ah, here are Mr. and Mrs. Lupo,” exclaimed Mr. Campbell in a tone of relief, as a man and woman approached down the gallery. “They are half Indians,” he added in a low voice. “Mrs. Lupo will be cook and her husband, guide, protector and man of all work.”
Miss Campbell turned reproachful eyes upon her relative.
So then they were to be left in charge of two half-breed Indians in this wild mountainous place, while he was away. Really, men were too incorrigible. But Mr. and Mrs. Lupo, at first glimpse, were far removed from savages. They were, apparently, like two shy, gentle animals with dark, shining eyes, and when they spoke, which was seldom, it was almost as if they had broken a vow of silence. Winter and summer they lived in these high places, and only occasionally did Mrs. Lupo descend to the valley to visit the little shops in the village and look upon the vanities of life.
“Well, Mrs. Lupo,” said Mr. Campbell, after shaking hands with the husband and wife and properly introducing them to the others, “I trust you have some food ready for a crowd of very hungry people. It was too hot this afternoon to be enthusiastic about lunch at the Valley Inn and hunger has overtaken us.”
Mrs. Lupo looked gravely from one face to another but said nothing.
“Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes,” answered her husband, and the strange pair promptly and quietly disappeared.
“She reminds me,” said Mary to Billie, “of one of those genii in fairy tales that appear when you want them and melt away when you have finished with them.”