“H’m; looks as though he’d been in some kind of muss,” commented Tom.
“So it does,” agreed Dick.
The rider as he came up, on discovering so many of his compatriots facing him, appeared so surprised that for a moment he allowed their cheery salutations to go unanswered.
“Well, well,” he began at last. “I didn’t——”
“Of course not,” said Tom, cheerfully. “Nobody ever does. But I say”—he pointed to the young man’s arm—“is it——?”
“It is!” answered the other in grim tones. “Quite badly, too.” Slowly he dismounted, shook a cloud of dust from his clothes, then patted the mustang’s shaggy head.
“I’m mighty curious to know what a crowd like you is doing in this out-of-the-way spot,” he continued, “but my desire for a bite to eat and rest is, for the moment, so much greater that—— Hello, here he is now!”
The fat proprietor had appeared on the scene, and it became apparent to the boys that the men were well acquainted. The American switched off into the Spanish language, speaking it with ease and fluency. When the man came from the stable to lead his weary horse away, he stepped up on the veranda.
The crowd, sympathizing with his tired condition, made no attempt to question him, though Cranny found it difficult to check the flow of words which were ready to gush forth at the slightest encouragement.
An hour and a half later, however, the aspect of the situation had changed. The young man, having attended to his various needs, was just as anxious to talk as they.