“You said we couldn’t walk down there, didn’t you?—and I do so want to see it,” Jo Ann urged.
After talking to Felipe a few moments Florence answered with a half-apologetic smile, “Felipe says mañana he’ll take us.”
“Mañana?” repeated Jo Ann. “Oh, you mean tomorrow?”
“Yes, it’s too late now.”
Jo Ann turned to Felipe, who was opening the door for them. “Por favor, Felipe,” she begged.
“Please, Felipe,” added Peggy quickly. She was not particularly interested in going down that back street, but it was so pleasant to be out at this time of the evening that she disliked the idea of going back into the gloomy house.
“He says he’ll take us if we insist,” translated Florence a moment later, after talking to Felipe again. “But really, girls, I feel that we shouldn’t go now. It’ll be better to go some morning.”
“I can’t see what difference it’d make when we go. Come on.” Jo Ann could not understand the Mexican’s way of putting off till tomorrow anything he did not care about doing. When she made up her mind to do a thing, she wanted to do it right now. “It’s silly to make so much fuss about such a simple thing,” she thought. “Why can’t you drive down a street when you want to?”
“Well—all right,” Florence reluctantly agreed at last.
Dusk was falling as they turned into the cobblestoned street back of the house. Slowly they made their way over the stones—century-old stones, worn smooth by the tread of many feet.
The farther they drove the more thickly populated the street became. Jo Ann and Peggy were shocked by the utter wretchedness and abject poverty which they saw on all sides. Dirty, half-clad peons with their empty baskets or trays were shuffling homeward after their day’s labor in the city; old crippled men and women, who had begged all day on the streets, were wearily dragging themselves to a place of shelter for the night. The small windowless adobe huts which lined each side of the street seemed overflowing with people. Women with babies in their arms squatted in the narrow doorways, while dogs, pigs, and goats wandered in and out of the houses at will, as much at home as the children. As for children, they were everywhere—dirty, naked, half-starved looking.
“I never imagined anything could be so terrible,” shuddered Peggy. “Did you, Jo?”
Jo Ann shook her head soberly. “I didn’t realize there was such poverty anywhere.”
A shout rose down the street: “Americanas! Americanas!”
Children appeared from every direction. They crowded around the car. Some of the larger ones climbed up on the running board and the fenders.
“Centavo, mees! Centavo, mees [A penny, miss! A penny, miss]!” they cried, holding up dirty, scrawny little hands to them.
“Oh, Florence!” begged Jo Ann. “Let’s stop and give them something.”
“If we stopped now, we’d never be able to start again.” Florence explained quickly. “They’d climb all over us. Let’s throw some pennies out the windows.”
Hurriedly they emptied their purses of all the pennies they could find and threw them far into the street.
Such shouting and scrambling as followed! The children fought and knocked each other down in their effort to find the pennies, the tiniest ones crying because they could get nothing.
“It’s pitiful—heartrending—these children fighting over pennies as starved little animals over a bone,” thought Jo Ann. How was it possible for such things to exist, almost at your very door, and yet to be absolutely unseen and unknown? Was this really a part of the beautiful city they had enjoyed seeing such a short time ago?
Felipe could scarcely drive without hitting some of the children, yet he dared not stop. He had not wanted to bring the girls down here, as he felt sure Dr. Blackwell would object, but since they were here he must take care of them. While the children were busily searching for the scattered pennies, Felipe managed to escape the crowd. Quickly he drove to the end of the street and turned down an old, dry, rocky river bed, the car bumping and swaying as it sped along over the rough cobblestones.
“Florence!” shouted Jo Ann above the noise as she clung to the side of the car to keep from falling over on Florence. “I take back everything—I said—about you coming down—here alone. I understand—a lot that I thought foolish—before I saw this with my very own eyes.”
“We won’t have to go far—on this rough river bed,” Florence called back a moment later. “We’ll turn—at the next corner.”
“This is the—widest river bed I ever saw—to have so little water in it,” put in Peggy above the noise.
As the car turned into the next street Florence replied, “Sometimes when it rains hard in the mountains this river’s full of water.” She paused and added, “This is the street Mother and I’ve come down frequently to bring clothing for the poor families.”
Just then some ragged little children near by began to wave their hands and call out, “La Señorita! La Señorita!”
Florence smiled and waved back. “Those are some of the children we’ve given clothes. They look as if they need some more.”
“I wish we had some pennies to give to these children, too,” said Jo Ann. “Let’s come back here sometime and bring them something.”
In a few more minutes the adobe huts were left behind, and they began passing the plain stone houses of the middle class. With long-drawn sighs the girls settled back against the cushions, each thinking of the distressing poverty she had seen.
Suddenly down the street directly in front of them Jo Ann spied a tall, ungainly object against the high stone wall.
“What’s that, Florence?” she asked.
“That? Oh, that’s a scaffold the workmen are using in doing some repair work on a house.”
“But why don’t they use ladders?”
“They’d have a time to get a ladder long enough to reach the top of these houses. When they build them, they use big derricks to lift the heavy stones.”
“Then why do they build their houses so high?” asked Peggy.
“It makes them cool,” Florence answered as the car turned off the narrow street onto the pavement around the Plaza.
“Why, we’re almost home!” exclaimed Jo Ann in surprise. “Is it possible that this is part of your house?”
“Not exactly, but it’s all connected into one long building,” she replied, wondering at Jo Ann’s interest.
“Oh, then that’s the very thing!” Jo Ann cried, beaming.
“Whatever are you talking about, Jo?” asked Peggy.
“Why, how to get up on top of the house, of course! Don’t you see—I can climb up that scaffold to the top of the house; then it’ll be easy to let a rope down to the mysterious window. I’ve been wondering how I’d ever get on top of the house—it’s so high.”
“But, Jo, you can’t do that!” gasped Florence in alarm. “It’s too high, and anyway——”
“You’re not going to do it,” declared Peggy emphatically. “You might get hurt.”
“Don’t be silly,” scoffed Jo Ann. “I haven’t broken my neck yet.”
“No, but it isn’t your fault,” Peggy retorted.
“But, Jo, suppose someone should see you!” exclaimed Florence. “You must give up this foolish idea.”
“Would it be a disgrace if someone did see me?”
“Well, it isn’t considered proper here for a young lady to do anything on the street which would attract attention. You’d be a regular circus, climbing that scaffold. The street’d be jammed with people before you’d get halfway to the top.”
“I’ll promise not to give a free performance for the natives,” laughed Jo Ann. “But what’s to keep me from climbing up there when I wouldn’t have an audience? There are times, you know, when people sleep.”
“You couldn’t go out in the street at night—alone!” The very idea of such a thing was shocking to Florence. “That scaffold’s nothing but some rough poles fastened to the wall, and it’s so high it’d be dangerous—not at all like climbing a ladder.”
The car drew up before the house, and Florence and Peggy jumped out and hurried up the stairs without waiting for Felipe to open the door for them, but Jo Ann lingered a moment to thank him for granting her request. She knew he couldn’t understand a word she said, but from the broad grin which spread over his face she felt she had made her meaning clear to him.
The ride had meant much more to her than she had expected, since she had discovered a way of getting up on the roof. All she needed now was a length of rope so she could lower herself from the roof.
“It isn’t going to be hard to do,” she told herself as she went up the stairs. Of course, she would not do anything to disgrace Florence or Dr. Blackwell—they had been so kind to her—but give it up now? Never! Not with her goal almost in sight.
CHAPTER IV
JO ANN’S SECRET QUEST
According to her promise to take the girls to the market with her, Florence called Peggy and Jo Ann the next morning as soon as she awoke. It was only half-past six, but the sun was already making a geometric pattern across the floor where it shone through the iron bars of the window.
Jo Ann was impatient to start the minute she had finished dressing. Yesterday she had looked forward to the trip only because it would be interesting, but now she was eager to find a store where she could buy the rope she needed for exploring the mysterious window. She knew that it would be difficult to make this purchase without Florence’s finding out about it, but if she could only find where to get the rope she could return later, alone, and buy it.
“Oh, hurry up, Peg,” scolded Jo Ann as she stood in the doorway, waiting. “You’ve primped long enough. We’re just going to market—no one’ll see you.”
“But what’s the hurry?” calmly inquired Peggy as she patted the waves of her auburn hair into place. “It wouldn’t hurt your appearance any if you spent a little more time primping, as you call it.”
“Well, if I were as fussy as you are——” Jo Ann began; then, leaving the sentence unfinished, she disappeared into the hall. There was no use arguing with Peggy. She just wouldn’t hurry—every hair must be in place.
A few minutes later, when Peggy and Florence joined her in the hall, Jo Ann asked with a meaning glance toward Felipe, who was waiting with a split-cane basket on his arm, “Do we have to take him along?”
“Why, yes; he always goes with me to carry the basket,” explained Florence in surprise.
“I’ll carry the basket for you, and we won’t need him,” Jo Ann volunteered quickly.
Florence shook her head vigorously. “You’re not a servant, Jo. I wouldn’t think of letting you carry the basket. That would never do.”
“Oh, well—all right, then. Just as you say.”
Although she had smilingly agreed with Florence, she realized that it would be more difficult to carry out her plan with Felipe along. His keen eyes saw everything.
“Felipe reminds me of a faithful watchdog,” she remarked as they started down the stairs. “I’m glad he can’t understand English—there’s some consolation in that.”
This would complicate matters considerably, having Felipe along; still, she could not say more about leaving him at home.
“He’s just eager to be of service, that’s all,” explained Florence.
“You should’ve seen him yesterday when he caught me slipping up the stairs. You’d have thought he was a contortionist or something, from all the motions he went through in trying to tell me the sun was bad for my head.”
“I can easily imagine how he looked,” smiled Florence. “He is comical when he gets excited. I hope you girls don’t mind walking,” she added as they reached the street.
“No, we don’t mind, only I won’t be responsible for my appetite when we get back,” replied Peggy lightly.
“I think it’ll be wonderful to walk this morning,” put in Jo Ann. “It’s so cool and pleasant, and we can see more when we walk—not that I don’t like to ride, of course.”
Although the sun was painting the tops of the buildings with gold, the narrow tunnel of a street still held the cool freshness of the night. As Jo Ann drew in deep breaths of the invigorating morning air, she wondered what Florence would say if she knew her real reason for wanting to walk.
Chatting gaily, they strolled arm in arm, while Felipe followed a short distance behind.
All along the way there were many curious, interesting things that caught both Peggy’s and Jo Ann’s attention—peons with trays or baskets either balanced on their heads or set on little portable stands; women squatting on the sidewalks selling flowers and fruits, tortillas, tamales, and other foods; beggars waiting on every corner trying to rouse the sympathy of the shoppers.
While the lively, talkative Peggy plied Florence with question after question about the people and their strange customs, Jo Ann had an opportunity to peer into each of the queer little shops they passed. She even stared at all the little stands in the street, almost expecting to see a rope dangling from one of them, so intent was she upon her search. Even though everything imaginable seemed offered for sale, she found nothing that in any way resembled a rope.
“Where do they sell rope in this curious place?” she wondered. If she could persuade Florence to return home along another street, perhaps she’d find a store there where she could get it.
Her perplexing problems were forgotten a moment later as the market loomed before them. It was a huge old building occupying an entire block. The immense roof was supported by heavy stone columns and broad arches which showed signs of having been, at one time, tinted in bright colors but now looked dull and faded. The plaster was cracked and soiled, and in places great slabs had fallen off, leaving the bare stones exposed.
“Oh, I love this!” exclaimed Jo Ann. “It’s one of the most interesting places I’ve ever seen. The people—their dress—their customs—the very atmosphere is different. It’s hard to realize this is the twentieth century when you look around here.”
“Yes, it is very old and much the same as it was centuries ago,” replied Florence.
Stalls had been set up in every inch of available space inside the building. Some were piled high with golden tropical fruits—oranges, mangoes, guavas, bananas, pineapples; others were festooned with strings of onions, garlic, and red chili peppers—all very necessary to add a piquant flavor to the limited fare of the Mexican.
Slowly they made their way along the narrow, crowded passageways between the stalls, Peggy and Jo Ann stopping every few minutes to question Florence about the different things they saw.
Finally, after glancing at her watch, Florence stopped abruptly and exclaimed, “Gracious! It’s after nine o’clock—I’ll never get through at this rate—not if I stop to answer all of Peggy’s numerous questions.” She laughed and gave Peggy’s arm an affectionate pat. “Would you girls like to wander around and take in the sights while I finish my marketing?”
“Yes, we’d love to,” promptly answered Jo Ann. “Wouldn’t we, Peg?”
“Yes, indeed!”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind being left alone, I’ll hurry on. Stay in this section of the building so I can find you.” In a moment Florence and the faithful Felipe disappeared in the crowd.
Jo Ann was delighted to be free to carry on her search for a rope without fear of being questioned. Although she felt sure that Peggy would enter into her plans, she decided not to tell her about them just yet.
Grabbing her by the arm, Jo Ann jostled and pushed their way through the crowd, up one aisle and down another.
Suddenly the breathless Peggy halted. “Say—where’s the fire?” she scolded. “I can’t see a thing, trying to keep up with you. Why the rush?”
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to hurry so fast,” Jo Ann replied; then, realizing she dared not waste time arguing if she was to accomplish what she had started out to do, she added, “Can you keep a secret, Peg?”
“A secret!” repeated Peggy staring at her in surprise. “Of course I can—why?”
“Well, I’m trying to find a shop or a store—or whatever it is—where you buy rope in this place. You see, all I need is a rope—then I can explore the mysteries on the other side of that curious window.”
“But why so secretive about——” Peggy stopped abruptly, it having dawned on her why Jo Ann had acted so strangely all the morning. “So that’s why you didn’t want Felipe along, is it?”
“Yes, he gets on my nerves. All the way here I could feel his eyes boring into my back every time I craned my neck to see something.”
“You’re imagining things, Jo. It’s just your guilty conscience. He’s really the perfect servant—very quiet and accommodating, but not inquisitive.”
“Maybe you’re right—but still I’m glad he’s out of the way. Come on, we’ll have to hurry, or they’ll be back.” She caught hold of Peggy’s arm to keep from getting separated in the crowd, then continued, “You remember how horrified Florence was yesterday when I mentioned my plan to climb that scaffold—well, I don’t want her to find out what I’m doing. It’d only worry her, and I have no intention of giving it up.”
A dubious expression crept into Peggy’s hazel eyes. “I still think you’re foolish to risk breaking your neck for something no more important than a hole in a wall.”
“You never can tell, though, what might be behind the hole,” said Jo Ann with an air of mystery.
“But, Jo, how’re you going to get a rope without Florence’s seeing it? It’ll make a bulky-looking package, won’t it?”
“If it does, I won’t get it now. If we can only find where to buy it, we can slip back later. You’ve got to help me get it without Florence’s and Felipe’s seeing it.”
“Well, all right, I suppose I’ll have to do it if you’re determined to go on with your plans—but really I feel terrible about doing anything Florence doesn’t approve of. She and her father’ve been so lovely to us.”
“But I’m not going to do anything to disgrace them. I wouldn’t do that for anything. I really feel that they won’t object at all after I’ve solved the mystery. Florence is just afraid I might get hurt climbing up on that roof. You know well enough I’ve done lots more dangerous things many a time.”
Suddenly spying an Indian woman with a basket of exquisite roses, Peggy stopped, saying, “Forget about your old rope for a minute, Jo, and help me buy some of these beautiful roses. Aren’t they the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen? Ask her how much they are.”
Jo Ann quickly raked her memory for the proper Spanish words to use in buying the flowers. “Cuanto rosas?” she asked finally.
While talking rapidly in Spanish, the woman picked up a long-stemmed, beautifully shaped bud of shell-pink color edged with silver, and then held up three fingers of her left hand.
“She says they’re three centavos each,” explained Jo Ann.
“Tell her I’ll take a dozen.”
“Un dosena,” she repeated in Spanish.
“Is that all you do—just add an a to the English words—rose-a, dozen-a? I could do that,” laughed Peggy.
“Don’t ever think it’s that simple, but there are several Spanish words which are much like the same words in English,” Jo Ann explained, feeling quite proud of her superior knowledge.
As the woman had seldom sold more than three or four flowers at a time, she had great difficulty now in figuring the cost of a dozen. Finally Jo Ann offered her assistance, and after arguing for some little time, Peggy received her change and the roses, and they started on their way again.
“Gracious! I feel like a bride with all these flowers,” laughed Peggy. “Suppose you take half of them.”
“All right—that’s the very thing.” Jo Ann’s eyes sparkled. “If I can only find the rope now, I can carry the bundle under these flowers, and it won’t be noticed.”
A moment later Peggy called to Jo Ann to stop again. “Just look at these beautiful blankets! Feel how soft they are and see how beautifully the colors are blended.”
“Yes, they are lovely. I’ve heard that they’re all hand made by the natives—that the designs are handed down in the families for generations. But, Peg, we haven’t time to stop here now.”
“Just look at that blanket hanging over there! It looks like the rainbow, the way the colors are shaded into each other. Don’t you love it?”
On receiving no answer from Jo Ann, Peggy turned around just in time to see her disappear in the crowd. Quickly she began pushing her way to the spot where she had last seen her.
“I don’t relish the idea of getting lost in this crowd of people who can’t understand a single word I say,” she told herself, as she darted in and out among the slow, deliberate Mexicans.
After looking about in all directions, to her great relief she spied Jo Ann standing before an enclosed booth, piled high with baskets, sombreros, hand-made chairs, and various other articles. Coming nearer she saw what had attracted Jo Ann’s attention—several long coils of rope hanging near the back of the booth.
“Jo Ann Cutrer, what do you mean by running off like that!” she scolded.
With only a nod at Peggy, Jo Ann stood gazing at the rope, her forehead wrinkled in deep thought.
“Oh dear!” she murmured. “I can’t think of the Spanish word for rope. What can it be?”
“Why don’t you add an a to rope as you did before,” suggested Peggy, smiling.
“Rope-a, rope-a,” repeated Jo Ann several times; then her face brightened. “I believe that is the word. I’m sure I’ve heard that word before.”
Turning to the man in charge of the booth, she repeated in Spanish, “Cuanto la ropa?”
The man looked amazed at first, then stared blankly at her.
“I want la ropa,” she repeated impatiently.
With a shrug of his shoulders, the man shook his head and pointed to another booth farther down the aisle. The next moment his face brightened, and, reaching over, he handed her a basket.
“No—no!” exclaimed Jo Ann, frowning more deeply than ever.
“Maybe he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, Jo,” Peggy suggested, smiling. “Maybe that’s not the right word for rope.”
“Something’s wrong, that’s certain,” Jo Ann replied.
Turning to the man again, she pointed to the back of the booth behind a stack of sombreros. “See, I want that rope back there.” A broad smile spread over his bronze face as he picked up several of the hats and handed them to her.
Jo Ann shook her head vehemently. “No—no.”
Since the only thing left near the hats was the coil of rope hanging on a peg behind them, he handed her the rope.
“Sí, sí,” she replied, and reached over to take the rope from him. “How much is it?” she asked in Spanish.
As soon as he replied she answered promptly, “Bien—I’ll take it,” and handed it back to him to be wrapped.
To her amazement he unfastened the coil and spread the rope out before her to show her how long it was, then jerked on it to show its strength.
“Sí, sí—that’s all right, but wrap it up—and hurry, please.”
“He’s the slowest person I ever saw,” she murmured to Peggy. “I’m afraid Florence’ll find us before I get it wrapped. I hardly think she’ll notice it under these roses, do you?”
Once more the Mexican handed her the rope without any sign of wrapping and with one long end dangling from the loose coil.
“Jo, look!” Peggy put in quickly, pointing to the next booth. “They don’t wrap their packages here. That’s why he didn’t understand you.”
“Horrors! I can’t carry it this way—what’ll I do? I’d like to——” She stopped suddenly as a familiar voice behind her exclaimed, “Oh, here you are! I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
Jo Ann dropped the rope as if it were a hot coal.
“I was beginning to think you girls were lost,” Florence went on.
“Not lost, just misplaced,” put in Peggy quickly to cover Jo Ann’s confusion.
“Come on, we’ll have to hurry now,” Florence urged. “I know Juana’s had breakfast waiting for us for a long time.” She turned and led the way out of the market.
When they had gone only a few steps, Jo Ann suddenly gave a little gasp and catching Peggy by the arm exclaimed in a low voice, “Gee! I made a ridiculous mistake. I’ve just remembered what the word ropa means—it’s clothes. I was asking the man for clothes! No wonder he couldn’t understand what I meant!”
CHAPTER V
THE SIESTA HOUR
All the way home from the market Jo Ann kept wondering what excuse she would make to Florence so that she might go back after the rope.
To her delight the opportunity came sooner than she expected. While the three girls were at the table lingering over their late breakfast, Felipe entered with a message for Florence from her father.
“Daddy needs my help for about half an hour in the office,” she explained. “I often assist him in the simple cases. You girls amuse yourselves any way you wish while I’m busy.”
“All right,” Peggy answered promptly. “I believe I’ll run across the Plaza to that curio store we saw yesterday and buy some postcards. I’d like to look at the curios, too.”
“The sun’s getting so hot now that you’d better carry my parasol, if you’re going out,” Florence suggested over her shoulder as she left the room.
Although Jo Ann had not said a word, she immediately decided that here was her chance to go back to the market after the rope.
Jo Ann got the parasol and then hastened out the door, Peggy at her heels.
“Let’s go back to the market for the rope first before we go to the curio store,” Jo Ann suggested as soon as they reached the street.
“All right, but let’s hurry so I’ll be sure to have time to stop and get the cards,” replied Peggy.
When they reached the market the crowd had thinned considerably, and without much difficulty they found the booth and bought the rope.
Peggy smiled widely as they left the booth and remarked teasingly, “I notice you didn’t ask for ropa this time.”
Jo Ann grinned good-naturedly. “No, I looked it up in my dictionary and found the right word for rope.”
As it had taken longer to make the trip than they had anticipated, Jo Ann hurried Peggy along.
“I’ve got to get this rope inside the house and hidden before Florence finishes helping her father.”
Just as they turned the corner by the Plaza, Jo Ann halted abruptly. “Peg, look, standing there in the doorway—Felipe! I can’t go past him, carrying the rope loose like this.”
“Well—I’ll tell you, Jo. We’ve forgotten the postcards. Let’s go to the store and get them, and maybe by the time we get back he’ll be gone.”
To their vexation, when they returned to the same corner fifteen minutes later, they found that Felipe was still standing in the doorway.
“Look, Peg! The watchdog is still there. I’m not going to throw this rope away now that I’ve got this near home with it. What shall I——” She stopped abruptly. “I’ve got it! I’ll slip it inside the parasol.”
Putting her words into action, she closed the parasol and slipped the coil of rope inside.
Peggy laughed, “That’s a funny-looking parasol, I must say.”
“I don’t care if it is funny. You walk close to me, and I’ll carry the parasol between us. Now, how’s that?”
“All right, I suppose—only I’m sure Felipe is wondering why we’re not carrying it over our heads as we’re supposed to do.”
With an effort to conceal their amusement, they hurried on past Felipe and up to their room.
Quickly snatching the rope from its hiding place, Jo Ann threw it into her trunk and slammed the lid down with a bang.
“There now—I’m glad that much is done,” she remarked with a sigh of satisfaction. “I hope I don’t have as much trouble using this rope as I’ve had getting it.”
Even as she spoke these words she began thinking of the many problems she still had to solve before she could reach the mysterious window. Would she be able to climb the crude scaffold? How would she be able to fasten the rope after she got to the roof? And how could she manage to do all this without being seen?
All through lunch and later that afternoon during the siesta hour these questions kept racing through her mind.
Just as they had done the day before, Florence and Peggy quickly succumbed to the heavy, drowsy stillness. But not Jo Ann. The harder she tried to sleep, the more wide awake she became.
Finally in desperation she got up and sat gazing out of the window. How could she stand this quiet and inaction so long? Glancing down at her watch, she realized it would be at least an hour before Florence and Peggy were awake.
“Even being outdoors in the hot sun’s better than sitting here doing nothing,” she told herself.
No sooner had this thought entered her mind than she decided to go outside and examine the scaffold on the building at the end of the block.
“It’ll take only a few minutes, and I’ll be back before the girls are awake,” she thought.
Quickly she rose and slipped noiselessly out of the room and past the sleeping Felipe at the head of the stairs. Once outside she hastened on around the corner and looked anxiously down the street to the farther end of the block to see if the scaffold were still there.
“Good! It’s there!” she exclaimed to herself the next moment.
Without a thought about the extreme heat she ran down the street to the corner. As she gazed up at the high, crude scaffold made of peeled poles fastened together, a slight tinge of fear passed over her. How high it looked! And what a blank wall it was fastened on! There wasn’t a sign of a window or opening—not even a ledge—to break the smooth, regular surface of the wall.
“That’s the crudest scaffold I’ve ever laid eyes on,” she thought, as she examined the hardwood poles which were fastened to the wall in several places by wooden pegs.
Near the top of the poles she noticed that there was a rough platform from which dangled a long rope with a bucket attached to the end.
“I wonder how the workmen get up to that platform,” she thought.
Going over to the other side of the scaffold she discovered that deep notches had been cut at regular intervals in one of the poles, for footholds. “So this is the way they get up! These notches look awfully far apart, though. I wonder if I could reach them.”
Carefully she pulled herself up to the first notch, and then on to the second and third.
“Sure, I can climb this!” she exulted. “This is more fun than I’ve had in a long time.”
Up she climbed to the platform and then scrambled over onto it.
While she was sitting there resting a moment, she was busily examining the rest of the scaffold to see if she could reach the top of the building. She noticed that, although there were no more notches cut in the pole, there was a crosspiece near the top to hold the scaffold in position against the building.
“If I can only reach that crosspiece, I know I can climb up on the roof,” she told herself.
Cautiously she rose and, wrapping her legs and arms around the pole, slowly pulled herself up to the crosspiece; then balancing herself on it she climbed over the edge of the roof.
However, hot as she was, she knew that she had no time to cool off, since the siesta hour was almost over, and the girls would soon be awake.
“I must not get caught again,” she told herself.
She looked hastily around the curious roof, noting with surprise that it resembled a flat cement floor with a low, thick stone wall around it.
“How on earth can I fasten a rope to a roof like this?” she asked herself in dismay. “While I’m up here I’ve just got to see the roof over that mysterious window. If it’s like this, what will I do?”
Hurrying to the division wall, she scrambled over it, only to be confronted by another wall. Undaunted, she climbed over it, and then over still another, till she came in sight of a chimney.
“This must be the chimney of the big fireplace in the kitchen,” she told herself.
Climbing up on the broad outer wall of the roof she peered over, trying to find the position of the mysterious window.
“Why don’t they have window casings or something to show where their windows are?” she thought in disgust.
She lay flat on her stomach and leaned farther out over the edge of the building. Although the hot stones burned her, she kept on persistently examining the surface of the wall below till she made out the outlines of the mysterious opening.
“Whew!” she exclaimed aloud. “I know I’m scorched.”
She sprang down quickly, took a pin out of her hair, and tried to scratch a mark with it on the wall directly in line with the window. To her disgust the hairpin proved to be too frail a tool to have any effect upon the old plaster of the wall. Tossing the pin away, she looked about for some other object with which to mark the spot, but on finding nothing she hurried off toward the scaffold.
“I’ve got to rush, or the girls’ll be awake and miss me,” she told herself as she vaulted the first division wall.
In a surprisingly short time she reached the end of the building. Leaning over the wall, she looked about for the crosspiece on which she must get a foothold before sliding down to the platform below.
The next instant she gasped and drew back. Surely her eyes were deceiving her.
Cautiously she peeped over the wall again. Yes, there on the platform only a few feet beneath her sat a Mexican with a bucket of paint beside him. Just then loud, coarse laughter sounded from the street, and peering down she saw several workmen applauding one of their number who, poised at the bottom of the scaffold, was dramatizing a love scene. Pulling out a piece of white material from his girdle, he pressed it first to his lips, then to his heart, talking rapidly all the time.
Only two words floated up to her—señorita and amor. As the actor waved the white material in response to the applause, an expression of consternation came into Jo Ann’s eyes. That was her handkerchief! She must have dropped it when she was climbing. The señorita of this silly farce was no other than herself.
Horrified, she drew back out of sight. What must she do now? She dared not climb down with those awful men there. If her handkerchief had caused such guffawing, what would happen when they saw her?
Alarmed by these thoughts, she fled back toward the chimney. It would offer a little shelter, at least.
“What a mess I’ve made of things!” she thought as she ran. “Peggy’s right about my curiosity getting me in trouble. I’m in it now.”
Huddling behind the chimney in an effort to hide from the workmen should they come up on the roof, and to escape the direct rays of the sun, she racked her brain for a way to get out of this predicament without disgracing herself.
“I must not do anything that will hurt Florence or her father,” she told herself. “Florence said it would never do for a girl to do anything that’d attract attention in any way. If I were back home and these were American workmen, I wouldn’t have a bit of trouble getting out of this predicament. But down here—! I’d have a time trying to make them understand me. They might think I was crazy or something, but I wouldn’t care if it weren’t for the Blackwells. There must be some way out of this embarrassing situation.”
At the same time that Jo Ann was puzzling over her problem Peggy was arousing from her siesta. With half-opened eyes, she stretched lazily and looked about the room. Florence was beginning to stir, but where was Jo Ann?
“These lazy, quiet hours are hard on a girl of Jo’s temperament,” Peggy mused. “I wonder where she is and what she’s doing?”
The next moment Florence sat up, yawned two or three times, then asked drowsily, “Where’s Jo?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. I just woke up and discovered the bird had flown.”
“Maybe she got tired waiting for us to wake up and went down to the drugstore for a drink. She ought to be back in a few minutes.”
As Florence slipped out of bed she remarked tentatively, “I’ve planned a shopping tour for this afternoon. I thought you’d be interested in seeing some of the souvenirs and drawnwork in the stores.”
“We’d love it,” replied Peggy promptly, rising at once. “I’ll hurry and get ready so we’ll have a long time to shop. I want to get some of those dainty little handkerchiefs like you sent me for my birthday.”
“I’m so glad you like them. The Mexicans really do beautiful handwork, but unless you see something you especially want this afternoon, you’d better wait and get the handkerchiefs directly from the women who make them. They’ll be much cheaper that way.”
A half-hour later Peggy announced proudly, “I’m all ready—how about you? Don’t you think it’s time Jo was back?”
“Yes, I do. I don’t see what’s keeping her. I’ll ask Felipe how long she’s been gone.”
When Florence returned a few minutes later there was a look of bewilderment on her face. “Felipe says he hasn’t seen her,” she announced.
Peggy’s eyes opened wide. “Where do you suppose she can be, then?”
“I’m sure I can’t imagine,” replied Florence, shaking her head dubiously.
“Do you suppose—she surely wouldn’t——”