"The saints be praised!" thought Alessandro, as he seated himself
to wait. "This looks as if they would not desert my Senorita."
Thoughts whirled in his brain. Where should they go first? What
would be best? Would they be pursued? Where could they hide?
Where should he seek a new home?
It was bootless thinking, until Ramona was by his side. He must
lay each plan before her. She must decide. The first thing was to
get to San Diego, to the priest, to be married. That would be three
days' hard ride; five for the exhausted Indian pony. What should
they eat on the ways Ah! Alessandro bethought him of the violin at
Hartsel's. Mr. Hartsel would give him money on that; perhaps buy
it. Then Alessandro remembered his own violin. He had not once
thought of it before. It lay in its case on a table in Senor Felipe's
room when he came away, Was it possible? No, of course it could
not be possible that the Senorita would think to bring it. What
would she bring? She would be wise, Alessandro was sure.
How long the hours seemed as he sat thus plotting and
conjecturing; more and more thankful, as each hour went by, to
see the sky still clouded, the darkness dense.
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