"Oh you poor things!" she cried, the tears coursing down her cheeks; "no wonder you're completely worn out. Your sufferings must have been dreadful."
"They have not been small," Rupert said, with emotion, his glance resting pityingly for an instant upon Juanita's wan features; "but as our days, our strength has been, for God is faithful to His promises. And now," he added, with a brightening countenance, "the worst is all over, I trust."
"Yes, indeed; you must stay here till you're quite rested," she said, with cordial hospitality. "And as soon as there's a good chance I'd like to hear your whole story. It can't fail to be interesting."
Turning hastily away with the last word, she seized a tin horn, and going to the back door blew a vigorous blast.
Her husband, three stalwart sons grown to man's estate, and a slender lad of twelve, the youngest and therefore the family pet, came hurrying from the field in answer to the summons.
The wife and mother met them at the threshold, her still fresh and comely face full of excitement. "We have guests," she said.
"Who on earth, mother?" ejaculated Joe, the eldest son, while his father remarked, "They're welcome, whoever they are, if they're honest, decent folks."
"That I'll engage they are!" she answered, "though their clothes are shabby enough; but they're escaped captives from the Apaches; have been travelling through the wilderness for months on foot, and of course are in a very bad plight."
Her announcement was met by various exclamations of surprise and commiseration, according to the characters and dispositions of the speakers.
"Yes," she said, "and of course, father, we'll keep them here till they're rested, poor things, and then help them on their way to their friends, if they have any."