Well, there is no reason we should not eat, and, thanks be to that good
mayor domo, we still have a bottle of wine. But I would give something
for a gourd of water. However, we have not been girls yet, and we will
not begin now, my friend."
The boys ate their breakfast, but their spirits felt little lighter,
even after a long draught of wine. The awful quiet of the place, broken
only by an occasional whinny from the mustangs, seemed to press hard
about them, thickening the blood in their veins. Roldan was filled with
forebodings he could not analyse, and strove to coax forth from its
remote brain-cell something that had wandered in, he could not recall
when nor where.
They saddled the mustangs, mounted, and were about to make for the
northwest when Adan gave a hoarse gurgle, caught Roldan's arm, pulled
him about, and pointed with shaking hand to the south.
"Dios de mi alma!" exclaimed Roldan. "It is Los Angeles. We were right,
after all. But why were we never told that it was so beautiful?"
On the southern horizon, half veiled in pale blue mist, showed a stately
city, with domes and turrets and spires and many lofty cathedrals.
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