So far, barring their
sojourn in the Sierras, they had been favoured with fine weather; but
winter was growing older every day, and the sky was thick and grey this
morning.
The Casa Ortega stood on the shores of a large lake. The banks were
thickly wooded. On its southern curve was a high mountain. As the boys
approached, a vaquero sprang upon a mustang and rode toward them
rapidly. Roldan recognised one of the men that had been at the rodeo.
"At your feet, senores," said the vaquero. "The Senor Don is away, and
all the family; but I am mayor domo, and in his absence I place the
house at your disposal."
"My father will reward you," said Roldan, graciously. "We would ask that
you give us dinner, a thick poncho each, for I fear that it will rain
before we reach Los Angeles, and that you will direct us which way to
go. The ponchos shall be replaced with fine new ones as soon as we have
returned home."
"Don Carlos would not hear of the return of the ponchos, senor. But
surely the senores will remain a few days, until the storm is over?"
"We dare not. But we will rest; and we have good appetites."
The mayor domo, still protesting, held the horses while the boys
dismounted, then showed them to two bedrooms and bade them rest while
dinner was preparing.
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