"Few people will make that mistake," said Bryton, dryly. "I suppose you know that your cousin and his wife are not here?"
"Oh, yes, I discovered that through Señor Arteaga when I was part way down. But he tells me the army men are here, and that there are always dances, horse races, and a general festival while they stay. I thought it might be worth while. Señor Arteaga will look after me if you are too busy."
"With many thanks for the honor, señora."
"The barbecues are over," said Bryton; "they were rather subdued this time, because of the funeral of Don Rafael's brother. I leave with the army men to-morrow for a trip farther north, and you had best return to Los Angeles, or go to your cousin in San Diego."
She pretended to busy herself concerning a bandbox on which the cord had broken, but her little white teeth bit into her lip. Rafael had entered the post-office with the driver of the stage.
"I am not interested in San Diego," she observed. "There must be somewhere in this row of adobes a place where a lady could stay."
"There is the tavern kept by Mac. You may be able to retain a room there alone, if no other women stop over."
"Share a room with strangers? But Don Rafael offered—"
"Don Rafael has only several adobes here, where the vaqueros eat and sleep—neither he nor his brother has lived here as a regular thing; when they do, they share the house of the major-domo, who has an Indian wife. The only privacy Don Rafael could assure you of would be to give you the key of the Mission."
"That graveyard! I must say you are not very brotherly, amigo—I learned some more words of Spanish on the way down! Well, if I must go to the awful tavern, I must! Do you suppose that villanous-looking black-and-tan in the serape will carry my boxes into the hotel? You've not said one civil word, Keith! Are Teddy and I to do the best we can without your blessing?" she asked, mockingly.