When he came to himself he was lying upon a matting of some kind
and to his ears came the faint sound of a guitar, followed a few
moments later by sounds of girlish laughter.
He sat up and looked around, but could see nothing, except a ray
of light coming in through a little crack between a couple of
blankets that formed a curtain in a doorway.
"Where in the name of common sense am I?" he muttered.
He attempted to get to his feet, but the pain in his ankle
brought him quickly to himself.
"Now I remember!" he exclaimed. "I fell and sprained my ankle.
But how did I get here?"
He started to call, but at that moment the music ceased and a
minute later he heard voices saying good night. Then a door was
closed and immediately the curtains were thrown open and a peon
woman stood in the door.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, upon seeing Adrian sitting up and looking at
her. "Then you are not dead?"
"I should say not. Did you think I was?"
"I was afraid so."
"Why?"
"Because your death might be laid at my door."
"Evidently she hasn't discovered I am an American," thought
Adrian. "Well, I'll not tell her until I have to."
The woman turned around and called to some one in the other room
and another figure appeared in the door--that of a girl some
fifteen years of age.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183