In a short while, the cars reached the site of the Mexican camp.
The tents had been taken down and the animals and furniture loaded into several trucks.
As the Brownies followed their parents and Miss Gordon along the dark trail leading from the road, they could hear the sound of men’s voices.
Carl Wingate was arguing with several of the Mexicans.
“See here!” he said angrily. “You can’t pull out and leave us in the lurch. You signed a contract to pick cherries for the season.”
“Senor, you mistreated us,” one of the Mexicans replied. “You beat my son, Juan, with a stick. Tonight you drove the children away from the festival after they had been invited there. We Mexicans are a proud race.”
“You’re insolent and lazy!” Wingate retorted. “You’re not breaking camp because you’ve been mistreated. Oh, no! You’ve learned that they’re paying a half cent more for pickers up north. That’s why you’re leaving.”
“It is not true, Senor.”
“Unload those trucks!” Wingate ordered.
“No, Senor.”