In a moment the priest appeared at the door, and Doña Teresa kissed the hand he stretched out to her, and told him her anxieties all in one breath.
The padrecito had just had his supper and was feeling very comfortable himself, so he told her he was sure that everything would come out all right. He patted Doña Teresa on the shoulder and said not to worry; that probably Pancho had had to stay to mend a fence somewhere, and the children—why, they had probably stopped to play!
“In pitch darkness and rain, holy father? It cannot be,” Doña Teresa moaned.
“Well,” said the priest, “if they are not here in an hour we will search for them, but they will surely come soon.”
Doña Teresa had such faith in the priest [p 128] that she went back home, intending to do just what he said, but when she got there she found Pedro’s wife waiting for her.
The moment she saw Doña Teresa she cried out, “Has Pancho come?”
“No,” sobbed Doña Teresa.
“Neither has Pedro,” answered his wife. “I can’t think what can be the matter. He never stays out so late as this—especially in a storm. Something dreadful has surely happened.”
Doña Teresa told her what the priest had said, but neither one was willing to wait another minute, so they ran together in the rain to the other huts and told the news, and the men formed a searching-party at once.
They put on their grass coats to protect them from the rain, and started off in the darkness and wet, carrying lighted pine torches, and calling loudly, “Pancho—Pedro—Tonio—Tita,” every few minutes.