“Yes, yes!” cries Seguin, in trembling anxiety; “it is; she is the Mystery Queen.”
“She is in the town, then,” adds another.
“Where? where?” ejaculates the halt-frantic father.
“Where? where?” echo the girls, questioning one another.
“I saw her this morning, a short time ago, just before you came up.”
“I saw him hurry her off,” adds a second, pointing upward to the old Indian. “He has hidden her.”
“Caval!” cries another, “perhaps in the estufa!”
“The estufa! what is it?”
“Where the sacred fire burns; where he makes his medicine.”
“Where is it? lead me to it!”