But before Stephen, who could speak a little Spanish, had time to advance, the men turned abruptly, beckoned the strangers to follow, and deliberately walked up the broad pathway toward the dwelling.
"Well?" inquired Steve, doubtfully.
"Let's follow," said Chesty. "I've an idea these are hired men, and they're taking us to be welcomed by their master."
"Interesting, isn't it?" muttered Mr. Cumberford, but with one accord they moved forward in the wake of their guides.
[CHAPTER XVII]
DON MIGUEL, DEL BORGITIS
Halfway up the road they noticed on the left a large clearing, in which stood a group of thatched huts. Some women and children—all with dark skins and poorly dressed—were lounging around the doorways. These stood silently as the strangers passed by. A little farther along three men, attired in exactly the same manner as the two who were escorting them, were cultivating a garden patch. They gave no indication they were aware of the presence of strangers.
There was something uncanny—wholly unnatural—about the manner of their reception and even about the place itself, that caused some of them to harbor forebodings that all was not right. Yet they had experienced no opposition, so far—no unfriendliness whatsoever.
Up to the broad veranda they were led, and this, now viewed closely, showed signs of considerable neglect. The house, built of rough boards, needed whitewashing again; the elaborate stained-glass windows were thick with dust; the furnishings of the wide veranda, which were somewhat prodigal, seemed weather-stained and unkempt. On a small wicker table was a dirty siphon bottle and some soiled glasses with bugs and flies crawling over them. Beside these stood a tray of roughly made cheroots.