Chapter VII - Page 2

"Look," said Anastacio, abruptly. "We are here. It is a pueblo of my fathers, and will serve us now."

He pointed with his riding switch through the trees to a vague whiteness, and in a moment they emerged into another open. It was a clearing some three hundred feet square, crowded with dilapidated hovels, white under a light fall of snow. It was in the heart of the Sierras, on the flat of a peak; and high on every side reared other peaks, glittering with snow, black with redwoods. The snow clouds had passed. The moon rode in a dark blue sky set thick with stars. The silence, the repose, were appalling.

Roldan jumped to the ground, and accompanied by Anastacio, ran up and down to get the cold and fatigue of night travel out of his body. In a few moments they were joined by Adan, who came waddling up, his broad face knit with perplexity and delight.

"I leave you now," said Anastacio, "but remember--if you attempt to escape you carry poisoned arrows in your backs."

"Ay, Roldan!" exclaimed Adan, when their formidable host was out of hearing. "But this was more than we bargained for. I don't know whether I like it or not."

"I must say I don't like the idea of being in the power of savages-- Indians," said Roldan, contemptuously. "But as we started out for adventure we must take black bread with white. I think I do rather like this, but I shall not if we have to stay here too long and nothing happens."

"Isn't anything likely to happen?" asked Adan, anxiously.

"How can one tell? And who could find this place? But if worst comes to worst we'll run away--and not with poisoned arrows in our backs, either."

"That we will," said Adan, emphatically. "We've done that before."

The boys were given a good supper of meat roasted over coals, and a slice of Mission cake, then were escorted by Anastacio to the largest of the huts.

"Enter and sleep," he said. "It is my hut. I shall sleep beside you."