“Yes; is it to be on horses, then?”
“So Robbins says, to Jalapa over the mountains. That wonderful man has everything ready. He’s a perfect marvel to me. But time is valuable. Wake the girl, and we will start.”
It was awfully sudden; she had gone to sleep the wife of a president, to dream perchance of marble halls and grand palaces; then to awaken to the fact that she was plain Mrs. Kenneth, and must make a wild fight over a mountainous country, to save her wretched husband from a daily diet of miserable fare, was quite enough to unnerve the best of them.
But Hildegarde, bless her! was a thoroughbred.
It was quickly done.
Carmencita proved game enough, and ready to accept of anything rather than be parted from the only being on earth she loved.
“All ready,” I announced to Robbins, as we fled into the other room.
He was looking a bit anxious as he stood by the door listening to the confused jumble of shouts over near the cathedral; at our coming I thought I saw him hustle something bright and steel-like into his pocket, and could easily guess he had feared there would speedily be use for it unless we made haste.
“We’ve just got time. Sorry to have our castle tumbled down so suddenly, madam, but it is always an honor to be the wife of even an ex-president. There they come, by the church. This way, down the calle. A miss is as good as a mile, I reckon. There’ll be some mad hornets about here, presently.”
“Do you think they’ll try to chase us?” I asked, in a low voice, as we hurried away.