“Isn’t that terrible!” exclaimed Jo Ann. “That man’s a demon. I feel sure he had something to do with the disappearance of Carlitos’ father. Ask José, Florence, what Carlitos’ father did at the mine—if he was the owner and if this mean boss had been in his employ.”
“Well.” Once more Florence translated Jo Ann’s questions to José. All eagerness, the two girls waited for his reply.
This time Jo Ann was able to catch the answer. Her eyes shone with excitement as she broke out, “That’s why that mean boss wanted to get rid of Carlitos. Carlitos is by rights the owner of the mine!”
“You’re right—he is!” Florence exclaimed.
“Gee, Jo, you’ve run into a thrilling mystery this time, sure enough!” Peggy burst out in an excited voice.
“I feel sure this mean boss was responsible for the disappearance of Carlitos’ father, too,” Jo Ann went on. “He wanted to keep the control of the mine in his own hands. He wanted to get rid of Carlitos so there’d be no possible chance of anyone’s ever claiming the mine. Ask José, Florence, how long Carlitos’ father had lived at the mine—where the mine is and what the name of it is.”
Florence nodded. “All right.”
After talking with José a few minutes, she explained to Jo Ann, “Don Carlos—that’s what José calls Carlitos’ father, had come down from the United States to inspect his mine and had been there only a short time. I gathered from what he said that Don Carlos had not liked the way the Mexican boss was handling things and had dismissed him. It was only a short time after that, he said, that Don Carlos disappeared and the boss took charge of the mine again.”
“That proves to me that the boss did steal the mine,” Jo Ann said in an emphatic tone. “Doesn’t it sound that way to you, Peg?”
“Yes, it does.” Peggy shook her head dubiously and added, “You’ll never be able to unravel this mystery—it’s too complicated for you.”
“José said it was a silver mine and that they called it La Esperanza,” Florence went on. “He couldn’t tell me where it was. All he did was to wave his hand toward the range of mountains across the valley and said it was beyond that. He could find it himself, of course. I asked him how they carried out the silver ore from the mine—if there weren’t a railroad near—and he looked blank and then shook his head and said they carried it out on burros.”
“That’s certainly a poky way to carry the ore,” observed Jo Ann. “It looks as if they ought to be able to build a railroad.”
“But it might be too steep for a railroad. And this is Mexico, remember. Labor’s cheaper than modern machinery. Come on, let’s hurry up to the house and talk it all over with Daddy before he leaves.”
“All right,” Peggy agreed.
As the girls started off, Florence called over her shoulder to the children, “Don’t forget to come to my house mañana.”
Early the next morning the three girls began making preparations for the party for the little Mexican children.
“I’ll make some fudge,” suggested Peggy.
“That’ll be something new to them,” Florence told her. “I can make some molasses candy out of this brown sugar. Maybe they’ll know what that is.”
“I think we ought to have some kind of cakes, too,” put in Jo Ann. “I can make pretty good doughnuts. Do you think the children would like them, Florence?”
“I’m sure they would. They won’t know what they are, but they’ll like them. I doubt if these children even know what candy is. Living out in the mountains as they have, they’ve probably never tasted many sweets. I know this party will be a real treat to them and their mothers, too.”
When they had finished their cooking, Florence remarked, “Now we must decorate the olla for the piñata.”
Peggy smiled. “I know what an olla is—it’s just a big earthen water jar, but what is a pin—pin—or whatever you called it?”
“That’s what I’m wondering, too,” added Jo Ann.
“Well, when we fill this olla”—she pointed to the big pottery jar on the table—“with the candy and doughnuts and decorate the outside with gay colors, then it’ll be called a piñata.”
“What do you do with it then?” queried Jo Ann.
“Hang it up by a rope and blindfold the children and let them see which one can break it; then they all scramble for the contents.”
The girls laughed, and Peggy added, “Sounds like a lot of fun. What’re we going to decorate the olla with?”
“The only thing I can think of is to cut some colored pictures out of magazines and paste them on it. Can you think of anything better?”
Both girls shook their heads.
Soon the three had selected the brightest advertisements from some magazines and had decorated the jar till it looked quite festive.
That afternoon, before they had finished their siestas, the guests began to arrive. First were the children from the goat ranch with their mother; then shortly afterwards María and the grandmother with their line of little stairsteps.
Jo Ann noticed at once that Carlitos was missing and asked Florence to inquire about him.
A moment later Florence explained to Jo Ann that Carlitos had gone up on the mountain with José to get the charcoal. “María says they’ll be down later—they’ll stop on their way down with the charcoal.”
“Let’s wait to have the piñata game till Carlitos gets here,” Jo Ann suggested to Florence. “I don’t want him to miss that. Let’s show them how to play some simple game like drop the handkerchief while we’re waiting.”
Florence smiled dubiously. “We can try it, but I’m sure they’ve never played it before.”
In spite of their strenuous efforts to start the game, they failed, as the children merely stared timidly with their big black eyes, not seeming to know how to enter into the fun.
“These are the quietest children I’ve ever seen in all my life,” Jo Ann declared. “Don’t they ever play, Florence?”
“Very seldom. They work most of the time. The older ones take care of the babies and help their mothers. I believe we’d better go ahead with the piñata. It’ll take them a long time to break the olla, and maybe Carlitos’ll be here before anyone succeeds.”
Florence blindfolded the largest one of the little girls and handed her a stick, then turned her around several times. “Now see if you can break the piñata.”
The girl took a few steps, then timidly struck out with her stick, only to miss the piñata by several feet.
“Don’t be afraid,” called Pepito. “Go closer.”
Florence smiled. “No, she gets only one turn this time. You come on, Pepito, and try.”
With his black eyes shining Pepito stepped forward to be blindfolded. Jo Ann was delighted to see how much stronger he seemed to be and was as pleased as he when he hit the piñata, even though he did not succeed in breaking it.
Jo Ann and Peggy clapped their hands in applause, and the little Mexican children, thinking that was part of the game, timidly followed their example.
Before all of the children had had a turn in trying to hit the piñata, Carlitos came running up to the porch, his hands and face streaked with the black charcoal dust.
Pepito pointed up to the piñata. “Look, Carlitos, a piñata! And I hit it!” He went on rapidly to explain about the game.
With the keenest interest the three girls watched Carlitos’ face brighten and his blue eyes sparkle bluer than ever against the black of his face.
“I’ll break it for you, Pepito,” he replied confidently.
Peggy turned to Jo Ann and Florence, smiling. “Say, Jo, your little blue-eyed Mexican seems to have turned into a little nigger. Don’t you think you’d better introduce him to some soap and water before the refreshments?”
“Not a bad idea,” Florence replied. “Jo, take him back and show him how to use the soap.”
Jo Ann’s eyes stretched to their widest. “Show him how to use soap! What do you mean?”
“He’s probably never seen toilet soap before.”
“Gracious! To think of an American boy living like that—not even having seen toilet soap!”
After she had demonstrated to Carlitos how to wash his hands with soap, she watched almost unbelievingly his evident delight in the white foamy suds and its magic effect.
“I’ve got to get that boy back to civilization. Something must be done right away,” she told herself.
As soon as he had finished, they hurried back to the porch, and Florence placed the blindfold on Carlitos. As he started toward the piñata Pepito called eagerly, “Hit it hard, Carlitos—very hard!”
With almost uncanny accuracy, Carlitos neared the piñata, then struck out vigorously.
There was a crashing sound as the pottery vessel cracked open and the contents scattered over the floor.
Carlitos jerked the blindfold off, while the children uttered little squeals of mingled excitement and delight.
Smiling, Florence pointed to the scattered sweets. “Go get them!” she exclaimed.
The children needed no more urging. Straightway they began scurrying about, their black eyes shining with delight as they picked up the candy and cakes and tasted them. With their usual unselfishness they took some of them over to their mothers and the grandmother.
Just then Jo Ann noticed José leaning against a near-by tree, a pleased expression on his face as he watched the children’s fun. “Come on and get some dulces,” she called to him.
Smiling, he came over to the porch and took the sweets Jo Ann offered.
While both the older people and the children were enjoying the treat, Jo Ann went out to examine the huge bags of charcoal that almost completely covered the small burro. She laughed aloud as she noticed that only his ears and his feet were visible.
“It’s a good thing that charcoal’s light, or that burro’d never be able to get to town with that load,” she thought.
When she went back to the porch she told José, chiefly by gestures, that she was glad he had made so much charcoal. “When are you going to take it to the village to sell?” she asked him.
“Mañana in the mañana,” he replied.
“That means early in the morning, doesn’t it?” she asked Florence.
Florence nodded.
Jo Ann put her hand on Carlitos’ shoulder. “Are the boys going with you, José?”
José shook his head. “No, I think it better that they do not go.”
Shortly after the children had finished eating their refreshments, each one politely thanked the girls and offered a grimy, sticky little hand in a farewell shake.
As María was leaving with her family she remarked to Florence again, “You have much kindness, señoritas—like Carlitos’ mamá. I have much joy that he has friends Americanos now.”
After they had all left Jo Ann said determinedly, “We’ve simply got to find Carlitos’ relatives right away. María and José are as kind to him as they can be—they treat him as if he were their own child—but they’re so pitifully poor and ignorant.”
Florence shook her head dubiously. “I wish we could find some of his relatives, but it looks as if we’re up against a stone wall now. We’ve done everything we could.”
“Oh, Jo’ll solve the mystery—she’ll climb right over the stone wall,” laughed Peggy. “She’s great on climbing.”
The next day, when the girls were busily preparing dinner on the outdoor fireplace, Jo Ann happened to glance down the road. “Good gracious!” she exclaimed. “Is that Pepito, running like that? It is! Why, he oughtn’t to run like that.”
She rushed out to meet him. “No, no, Pepito! You mustn’t run like that,” she called to him.
Gasping for breath, Pepito ejaculated, “Carlitos! Oh, Carlitos!”
Before Jo Ann could ask any more questions Florence and Peggy came flying out.
“What is the matter, Pepito?” Florence asked quickly. “Why were you running so hard?”
“Car—li—tos—gone!” he panted, his eyes filled with tears.
“Gone!” Florence repeated. She wheeled about. “Girls, he says Carlitos is gone—lost!”
She turned back. “How could he be lost? What’s happened?”
Realizing how exhausted Pepito was from running, Florence led him up to the porch and made him sit down. “Rest a few minutes, then tell me what’s happened,” she ordered.
After he had partially regained his breath, he began telling between sobs that Carlitos and the burro had been stolen. Carlitos, he said, had begged José to let him go to town to help sell the charcoal and that while there both he and the burro had disappeared.
Florence rapidly translated his broken story to the impatient girls.
“Carlitos stolen!” Jo Ann repeated, puzzled. “Does he mean kidnaped?”
“Sounds like it.” Florence began questioning Pepito again. “Where is your papá now?”
“At the cave. When mi papá tell us that Carlitos is lost, I come to you. You can help us find Carlitos.”
Florence repeated his words to the girls, saying, “Poor child, he thinks we can help them because we did before.”
“We’ve got to help,” Jo Ann spoke up emphatically. “We’ve got to find Carlitos. Let’s go down to the cave right now and talk to José and find out exactly what’s happened. Tell Pepito to stay here and rest while we go to the cave.”
When Florence suggested to him that he stay and rest, Pepito shook his head. “No, no, señorita. I go with you.”
Before starting to the cave Florence ran inside to tell her mother what had happened. “Peggy says she’ll stay and finish getting dinner while Jo and I go down and find out the details from José.”
“All right,” her mother replied. “I hope they’ll be able to find Carlitos before night.”
By the time Florence came back, Jo Ann was hurrying down the trail, Pepito following. Suddenly realizing that Pepito must not walk so rapidly, Jo Ann checked her pace, although she could hardly wait to find out from José what had really happened.
“I wonder if it’s possible that Carlitos has been kidnaped,” she thought anxiously. “That mean mine boss tried to get him once—maybe he’s had something to do with his disappearance.”
Just then Florence caught up with her and began talking over this new trouble. “We’ll have to do something to help find Carlitos, Jo. Had it occurred to you that that mean boss might’ve had a hand in his disappearance?”
Jo Ann nodded. “I was just thinking that very same thing. The fact that Carlitos is the rightful owner of the mine would give him a reason for wanting to get him out of the way.”
“That sounds terrible,” Florence shuddered, “but it’s possible, all right.”
As they neared the cave, the girls could hear the mother and grandmother talking rapidly in shrill excited voices. On entering they saw José crouched disconsolately in a corner, his face buried in his hands.
They stepped across to his side, and Florence began quickly, “José, Pepito has told us about Carlitos. Tell us all about what happened to him—how he disappeared—and where you saw him last. Maybe we can help you find him.”
José raised his head, his dark troubled eyes lighting a little at sight of the two girls who had helped to save his son’s life only a few days before.
“Ah, Papá,” put in María just then. “The señoritas—our friends—they will help us find Carlitos.”
“We hope we’ll be able to help,” Florence told them earnestly.
Brokenly then José began by telling how after several efforts he had succeeded in selling only a few centavos’ worth of the charcoal, and so he decided to exchange some of it for food. Leaving Carlitos outside to watch the burro, he had gone into the little general store of the village. After he had bargained with the storekeeper to exchange corn, frijoles and coffee for a bag of charcoal, he had hurried out to get it.
To his amazement Carlitos and the burro were not in sight. Thinking they might have wandered down the street, he started off to look for them. They were nowhere to be seen, and after he had searched in vain all over the few streets of the village, he was in despair. Finally, after inquiring of several people, he found a man who said he’d seen a boy and a man go by driving a burro—only there were no bags of charcoal on the burro.
“I search much then, but I cannot find Carlitos or the burro,” he ended sorrowfully. “I have much fear that harm has come to Carlitos.”
As soon as José had stopped talking, Florence translated his story to Jo Ann.
When she reached the part about the man’s having seen a boy and a man driving a burro without any charcoal, Jo Ann spoke up quickly, “Maybe that boy was Carlitos.”
Florence turned back to José. “Do you suppose that boy was Carlitos who was helping to drive the burro?”
José shook his head. “No, no. The man say this boy hit much the burro. Carlitos no hit our burro.”
Jo Ann, who had caught the meaning of José’s words, put in, “Florence, maybe the man was making the boy hit the burro so he could hurry him out of the village. He probably wanted the burro too.”
When Florence translated this idea to José, he replied, “I thought of that too. I try to find them, but it was impossible. I hunt for many hours, but I find nothing.” He shook his head mournfully. “Carlitos gone—the burro gone—the charcoal gone—no have money to buy food for my children. Ah Dios, it is terrible!”
“I believe it’s that man from the mine who’s back of it all,” Jo Ann declared again. “He could easily have taken the charcoal off the burro and hidden it, and have frightened Carlitos into going with him.”
“That’s true,” agreed Florence. “He might’ve forced him to go at the point of a gun. That mean boss wouldn’t stop at anything.”
“Well, we must do something about it right now. Let’s go to the village and see if we can’t find out more about that man and boy. Will your mother let us go to the village with José?”
“Yes, I’m sure she will. It’s not so far there.” She turned to José and said, “We want you to go back to the village with us and see if we can find out something more about Carlitos. Go to the goat ranch and tell Juan to let us have two burros. We’ll go up to the house to tell my mother and then meet you at the cart road.”
José nodded assent. “Bien, señorita, I go immediately.”
The girls hurried up to the house, and Florence quickly explained their plans to her mother.
“I think it’ll be all right for you to go,” Mrs. Blackwell replied. “I hope you can find Carlitos, but be very careful. That man is probably capable of doing anything.”
“Oh, Mrs. Blackwell, he can’t be more dangerous than that bear,” put in Jo Ann. “We’ll be careful. I believe I’ll take the gun along. I’ll feel safer.”
“No, let’s take the pistol instead,” Florence put in. “The gun’s too heavy.” She took a pistol out of her bag and handed it to Jo Ann, then they set off down the trail and a little later found José at the road waiting for them with the burros.
Jo Ann hesitated a moment before getting on her burro. “This is my first experience riding without a saddle or a bridle.”
“Oh, it’s easy after you get used to it,” Florence encouraged. “You guide a burro, you know, by hitting him on the neck with a stick.” She sprang up nimbly onto the pack on the donkey’s back.
After Jo Ann had mounted on her burro she remarked, smiling, “This burro’s so small and my legs’re so long that they almost drag on the ground.”
“Sit farther back, the way the Mexicans do,” Florence called back. “It’s much easier riding that way.”
José followed, walking closely behind Jo Ann, having no difficulty in keeping up with the donkey’s pace.
“Isn’t there any way to make these animals go faster?” Jo Ann called to Florence impatiently a few minutes later.
“They’ll trot a little ways, but they really make as good time by keeping their steady pace. Remember you’re in Mexico, Jo.”
As soon as the three had reached the village, José took the girls to the store in front of which he had left Carlitos and the charcoal-laden burro a few hours before. “I know this storekeeper,” Florence told Jo Ann. “He’ll probably know if any strangers have been in the village lately. His store’s a meeting place for everybody in the village, and he hears all the gossip.”
She went inside and began questioning the storekeeper. “Have you heard of any strangers being in the village in the last day or two besides this man?” She pointed to José.
The storekeeper nodded his head, “Sí, señorita. I saw a man this morning that I have never seen before. He bought some cigarettes from me.”
“Did he come in before this man—José—did?”
“Sí. He said he was looking for a family that had lived at a mining camp across the mountains.”
Florence gave a little start. “Did he say why he wanted to find this family?”
“He say they were his friends.” The storekeeper shrugged his shoulders Mexican fashion and added, “I tell him I know nothing, and then he leave.”
Florence hurriedly recounted this information to Jo Ann, ending indignantly, “I believe that man was either the mean boss or someone he’d sent to get Carlitos. José knows what the boss looks like, so we can find out if the stranger was he.” She wheeled around to José and asked, “What’d that mean boss look like?”
“Very fat.” José gestured with his hands to indicate a Santa Claus figure, then twisted an imaginary mustache, adding, “and a big black mustache.” He turned to the storekeeper. “Did that man look like that?”
The storekeeper shook his head. “No. He very small—no mustache.”
“I’m glad it’s not the boss,” exclaimed Jo Ann.
“I am, too,” Florence agreed. She turned to José and said, “Take us down the street now where that man you talked to said he saw the strange man and the boy driving the burro.”
While José was guiding them to this street which led to the outskirts of the village, Florence caught sight of a familiar figure standing in an open doorway. “Wait a minute,” she explained. “There’s a woman I know. I’ll ask if she saw them pass.”
Florence hurried across the street and began explaining to the woman about their search for Carlitos and the burro. “Have you seen anybody of his description or heard anything about him?”
The woman shook her head, “No.”
Florence’s face fell. “Well, have you heard about anyone’s finding any bags of charcoal? This boy’s burro was carrying two bags of charcoal when he came to the village.”
The woman’s black eyes lit with interest. “Sí, señorita. Adela, the woman who lives at the corner, told me she had found two bags of charcoal in her yard this morning. She did not know how they got there.”
“Will you take us to her house and ask her to let us see the bags of charcoal? This man”—she nodded over at José—“will know if they’re his bags. His mother made them herself.”
The woman readily agreed to go with them, and in a few minutes they were shown the bags of charcoal.
A gleam of recognition immediately shone in José’s eyes. “Sí, señorita. These are the bags made by my mother.” His voice changed to a mournful note. “That boy was Carlitos. That man was making him beat the burro—he throw this charcoal over the wall. He very bad hombre.”
Jo Ann, who had caught the meaning of José’s words, put in quickly, “We’ve got to find that man and get Carlitos away from him. There’s no telling what he’ll do to him.”
“But José said he followed him for some distance out this way.” Florence wheeled about. “José,” she asked, “which direction do you go to get to that mine you came from?”
“You follow this road.” He gestured toward the winding road leading across the valley to the range of mountains.
Jo Ann spoke up impatiently, “Let’s start after Carlitos this minute. If we could find some horses to ride, we could overtake that man and Carlitos even if they did have several hours’ start. That man wouldn’t have taken the burro if he hadn’t intended using it. I know he can’t be traveling fast with a burro along. Come on, let’s see if we can find some horses.”
“We can get some horses here, I’m sure. Dad always gets his horse here when he comes to see us—a burro’s too slow for him.” Florence stopped a moment, then added hastily, “I believe I’ll call Dad—I can phone to him from here—and tell him what’s happened and——”
“Oh, Florence,” Jo Ann broke in, “ask him if we can’t go straight on to the mine. Tell him we’ll take José with us, and tell him if we don’t follow that man and Carlitos at once we’ll never see Carlitos again!”
“Well, all right. Come on. We’ll go back to the store—that’s where the only telephone in the village is. Come on, José.”
As Florence led the way back to the store, she told José of their plans to get the horses and follow the man and Carlitos. “Can you guide us across the mountains to the mine?”
“Sí, señorita, I sabe. I take you there.”
A few minutes later the three were back at the store, and Florence had succeeded in getting her father on the telephone. It was anything but easy for her to make him understand at first about Carlitos’ disappearance and their desire to hunt for him. When she finally made the situation clear, a note of excitement came into his voice.
“I’m glad you’ve phoned,” he told her, “because I’ve just got in touch with a man by the name of Eldridge who, I believe, is Carlitos’ uncle. Ask José again the name of that mine Carlitos’ father owned, and get him to tell you as nearly as possible where it is. I want to be sure that that is the mine and Carlitos the boy that this man Eldridge has been hunting.”
Florence quickly turned to José. “Didn’t you say the name of the mine was La Esperanza?”
“Sí,” José nodded.
“Tell me again how you get there.”
With many gestures José told her as nearly as he could where the mine was located. “Over that mountain to the east,” he kept saying, pointing to the range beyond.
As soon as Florence repeated José’s answer to her father, he replied that he would telegraph at once to Mr. Eldridge. The name and location of the mine, he said, corresponded with what he had told him.
“But, Daddy,” Florence put in, in a pleading tone, “if we don’t find Carlitos right away I’m afraid it’ll be too late. We’re afraid that mean boss’ll do something terrible to him—maybe kill him. We’re sure the boss is back of this kidnaping. The reason José left the mine was to keep that man from getting Carlitos. We must go right now and hunt for him. We know the kidnaper has started toward the mine with him.”
“Tell your father if we get horses we’re sure we can overtake the man and Carlitos, because they had only a burro,” burst out Jo Ann eagerly.
Florence nodded and repeated her words over the telephone.
After a momentary silence Dr. Blackwell answered slowly, “Well, as soon as I send the telegram to Mr. Eldridge, I’ll start for the mine too. I’m sure I can get there before you do, as I’ve found an Indian guide who knows where it is. I want to be there before you arrive, in case any trouble should come up. I can’t have you girls risking your necks, even to save Carlitos.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you’ll be there!” Florence replied.
Jo Ann’s eyes shone as she heard Florence’s answer. She knew that meant that they could start following the kidnaper and Carlitos right away. As soon as Florence put up the receiver, she caught her by the hand, saying, “Let’s hurry as fast’s we can and get the horses.”
“Not yet. I’ve got to write a note to Mother first and give it to the man who brings our mail. He can take the burros back to Juan, too.”
While Florence was still speaking, Jo Ann began looking about impatiently for some paper. “I can’t get used to stores not having wrapping paper as they do back home,” she said. A few moments later the storekeeper unearthed a scrap of soiled brown paper and proudly handed it to Florence.
She hastily scratched a few lines to her mother, explaining the situation and the new plan.
To Jo Ann’s annoyance a half hour passed before they could find the man who carried the mail and arrange to get the horses and everything else they needed.
When, at last, they were actually mounted on the horses and had started off down the road, Jo Ann gave a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness we’re on the way at last. Let’s ride fast now, because we’ll have to slow down when we reach the mountain.”
She tapped her horse sharply on his neck with her switch, and off she galloped, Florence and José following closely.
When they reached the foot of the mountain, Florence called to Jo Ann, “We’ll have to let José lead the way from now on. He says we leave the road here.”
Somewhat reluctantly Jo Ann checked her horse’s pace to allow José to lead. Slowly and in single file they began winding their way up a rocky trail. After about an hour’s climb it became so steep and narrow that even Jo Ann, experienced rider that she was, began to grow nervous.
With the towering wall of rock on her right and the deep canyon below, she realized that if her horse should make a single misstep it might be fatal. She shuddered at the thought of how easy it would be for the kidnaper to make away with Carlitos in such a place as this. One little push would mean death.
“Florence,” she called back, “I’ve been thinking how easy it’d be to make away with anyone in such a wild, lonesome spot. You don’t think that man’d push Carlitos off this precipice, do you?”
“No, no,” Florence called back quickly. “I’m sure he’ll take him on to the mine. That mean boss wouldn’t pay him a large sum of money till he was sure he had the right boy.”
“I believe you’re right.” Encouraged by Florence’s words, Jo Ann rode on in better spirits. “If that kidnaper takes Carlitos clear to the mine, then we’ll be sure to overtake them,” she thought.
About half an hour later, as the horses were struggling up an unusually steep place, Jo Ann suddenly cried out a sharp, “José, stop!”
Startled, José checked his horse and looked back.
Jo Ann pointed down at a boy’s hat caught on a sharp point of rock jutting out from the edge of the cliff. “See! Carlitos’ hat!”
“Ay Dios! I have fear that it is the hat of Carlitos.” He leaped off his horse and began hunting about for a stick with which to reach the hat. Finally, having found a long stick, he leaned over as far as he dared and carefully worked the stick up under the frayed edge of the hat. Both girls sprang off their horses to watch his efforts.
When at last he had the hat in his hands, he exclaimed, “Dios mio! It is his hat!” He pointed to the cord around the crown. “The grandmother made this cord for him.”
Jo Ann suddenly gasped and pointed down into the abyss-like gorge. “Oh, José, do you think Carlitos——” She broke off in the middle of her sentence, shuddering at the thought of Carlitos hurled down over the jagged rocks to the bottom of the gorge hundreds of feet below.
Florence broke in quickly, “Maybe his hat just blew off. If he had fallen over, we ought to be able to see some sign of loosened rocks or broken bushes where he slipped.”
She and Jo Ann, as well as José, began searching for some sign along the edge of the precipice. After a few moments Jo Ann walked up the trail a short distance and, leaning over, examined the path.
All at once her face lit. “Florence! José! Come here—look!” she called.
At the joyous note in Jo Ann’s voice both Florence and José came up to her side and stared down at the footprints in the limestone dust.
“See,” she said. “These small prints were made by Carlitos’ bare feet. They’re just his size.”
“Sí, sí,” José agreed. He pointed to some larger footprints beside them. “And these are made by the sandals of the man who is taking him off. And here’re the burro’s marks.”
Both Jo Ann and Florence drew deep sighs of relief. “I feel more certain than ever now that the man’ll take him clear to the mine.”
The next moment Jo Ann frowned and pointed to the ground a few feet ahead. “That rascal made Carlitos get off the burro so he could ride. See! There’re no signs of his footprints from there on—just Carlitos’ and the burro’s.”
“I believe you’re right,” Florence agreed. “I wonder if it’s very far to the mine now.” She turned to José, “How much farther is it to the mine?”
“Three or four more hours and we’ll be there.”
“I didn’t think it was that far. Why, it’ll be dark before we get there.” There was a note of anxiety in Florence’s voice.
Jo Ann shivered. “How in the world will we ever get over this trail in the dark? It’s scary enough in the daylight. Let’s hurry and get going.”
Soon all three were on their horses again and climbing steadily upward. After they had ridden about an hour, the trail began to drop downward.
“Wh—ew!” Jo Ann ejaculated. “I’ve ridden horses in lots of places, but nothing like this toboggan slide.”
Just as she was finishing this sentence, José’s horse dropped back on his haunches, his four feet braced together, and began sliding in the loose gravel of the almost perpendicular incline.
Both girls caught their breath.
The next moment Jo Ann felt her horse begin to slide. A feeling of horror overwhelmed her. She realized that she had no control over him whatsoever. Would her horse and Florence’s be able to keep from slipping over the edge of that horrible precipice?
It seemed to Jo Ann that years passed before her horse came to a stop. She drew a quick breath of relief, then turned about quickly to see if Florence were safe.
“Thank goodness!” she ejaculated as she saw that Florence’s horse, though still slipping, was over the worst of the incline, and that Florence was hanging on pluckily.
“O—oh, José!” Jo Ann ejaculated. “This is terrible!”
“Sí, sí,” José agreed, watching Florence anxiously.
Shortly after Florence’s horse had come to a safe halt, she called out between gasps, “José—are there—any more—places—this bad?”
“No, señorita. This is the worst.”
In spite of the fact that their horses were getting tired they urged them on, as darkness was beginning to settle down over the mountains.
“I thought surely we’d have caught up with Carlitos and that man by this time,” thought Jo Ann. “The poor child must be nearly dead, walking so fast. I’m tired, and we’ve been riding all the way.”
When she saw how swiftly the shadows were deepening, she wondered how they would ever be able to follow the trail from now on. But they must.
“If that mean boss ever gets his hands on Carlitos, that’ll be the last we’ll ever see of him,” she thought. “That boss wants to keep the mine, and he won’t stop at anything to have his way.”
After they had ridden for about an hour, the darkness grew so thick that it was almost impenetrable.
Jo Ann called back in a low anxious voice to Florence, “I can’t see a thing—it’s so black. I’m glad, though, the trail’s not so dangerous along here. It must be almost time for the moon to be up.”
“I’m sure it is,” Florence answered, then called to José, “Isn’t it time for the moon to come up?”
“Sí, señorita, but I have much fear there will be no moon tonight. I think there will be a storm.”
Even as he was speaking the girls saw a flash of lightning and heard the distant rumbling of thunder. A few moments later great drops of rain began to pelt into their faces as a gust of wind blew against them. With almost incredible swiftness the storm broke in all its fury. Blinding flashes of lightning darted in every direction, deafening rolls of thunder echoed and re-echoed over the mountains.
Never had Jo Ann heard such thunder—it growled and raged like some horrible monster. The rain began sweeping down in torrents, lashing them furiously.