Nan Sherwood on the Mexican Border Part 12

"I know," Nan was genuinely sympathetic, "but don't you worry, we probably won't see her at all. Mexico, after all, is a pretty big place."

"Yes, it has twenty-seven states, besides the Federal District and the Territory of Lower California." Laura quoted the guidebook glibly.

"Doesn't make any difference," Bess said firmly. "If she's anywhere in the country, there's no escaping her. We'll meet her." She ended positively.

How truly Bess spoke, the crowd was soon to find out, but the circ.u.mstances and the far-reaching results must be left to other chapters.

CHAPTER XIII

NAN TURNS PHOTOGRAPHER

"Well, what's on the program this morning?" Adair MacKenzie was in a genial mood the day after the telegram had informed the girls that Rhoda's mother was going to recover.

He had had a good night's sleep and a generous well-cooked breakfast in the fashionable hotel where he had chosen to take his brood. Though he had complained about the coffee in no uncertain terms, as is the custom of most Americans traveling in foreign countries, the rest of the food had seemed good and now he acted as though he was entirely at the disposal of his guests.

"What do you say, Jamieson?" He turned to the young newspaper man. "Got any ideas?"

"Only those that we talked over at Wells Fargo's yesterday." Walker Jamieson a.s.sumed a mysterious air.

"Oh, that, that has to wait until the afternoon," Adair MacKenzie looked mysterious too.

"Then we might just explore the city, take the buses and street cars and find out how the natives get around. We might let the girls get a glimpse of The Cathedral, one of the most important in all of the Americas. It was built over the old Aztec Templo Mayor and it took two and a half centuries to build."

"Two and a half centuries to build a church!" Laura exclaimed.

"What can you expect?" Adair MacKenzie asked in a tone that indicated he was not the least bit surprised, "of a nation that has 'manana' for its motto?"

Walker Jamieson laughed heartily at this. "Well, maybe you are right,"

he admitted, "but I don't think you'll find your interpretation in any guidebook. They say merely that the Indians contributed a third of the cost and all the work and that 'many died each day due to the long hours of unaccustomed strenuous work.'"

"That's right, they'll never admit they are wrong," Adair shook his head as though this fact grieved him deeply. "Never be afraid, you Nan,"

he pointed his finger sternly at his young cousin, "to admit you are wrong. Best medicine in the world. If you are wrong say so. It's good for you." Adair MacKenzie had a habit of talking thus in circles, agreeing with himself over some great truth. Now he nodded his head with great satisfaction as though he himself made a practice of admitting his mistakes.

Walker looked at Alice. Alice looked at Walker. They both laughed. Both knew that the old man had never in his life admitted that he had made a mistake. Both at this moment thought him charming and lovable.

"Well, shall we leave The Cathedral out then?" Walker Jamieson was always willing to give in in little particulars. "There's plenty else to see, palaces, parks, markets. Why, there's a whole new city to explore."

"Won't leave anything out," Adair MacKenzie looked at his watch as he spoke, "but we've got to do everything up in a hurry. Haven't got much time to stay in this city. Got a telegram this morning from the caretaker at the Hacienda. Expects us there within the next couple of days."

"Oh, daddy," Alice laughed. "That's the way you always are. Always wanting to move on just as soon as we arrive at a place."

"And you," he twitted, "manana is always good enough for you. You're just a lazy beggar. Now, what do you want to do today."

"Oh, everything, just everything," Alice looked as though she would like to do it all and do it now. She had that happy faculty that some people have of always having a good time no matter what happens.

Nan had it too. The word "bore" which slips so easily from the tongues of many young people who really shouldn't know what boredom is, had never crossed her lips. Life seemed too full of adventure, too full of a number of things to do for her to even think of applying it to herself.

Linda Riggs might have used the word, but never Nan, and never Alice.

"Well, there's your answer," Adair MacKenzie turned to Walker when Alice answered that she wanted to do "just everything." "It's a typical woman's answer. Now, do what you want to with it."

"O-kay." Walker Jamieson a.s.sumed the responsibility willingly enough.

"Now, listen here," he turned to the girls and a.s.sumed a serious air and a stern one that unfortunately didn't impress them at all, and said, "we've got just about four hours in this day to do with as you want to do."

"Four hours!" Nan exclaimed, "why, how short the days are here! It's only nine o'clock now, or is Amelia's watch slow?" She had been looking at Amelia's wrist as she spoke.

"I said four hours." Walker repeated, still sternly.

"He said four hours." Adair MacKenzie was equally stern.

"Then, why don't you get started," Alice teased.

"Come on, here. We are." Walker pretended that he was angry and that Alice's remark was just the last straw. He took her by the arm and with the others following after, they all left the dining room, walked through the lounge and then out into the morning sunshine.

The four hours flew by. They shopped in the busy Mexican markets, bartered with natives, dressed in brilliantly colored blankets and huge sombreros, bought serapes, beautiful Indian pottery, some opals that were sold by the dozen, handwoven baskets and a million and one little things that Walker declared would fill a trunk.

Nan took her camera along and snapped pictures of everyone, pretty Mexican senoritas selling flowers, little Mexican boys who were boot-blacks, proud of the American slang they had learned in the movies, and whole families complete with shawls, squatting over low fires making tortillas for whomsoever would buy.

She took pictures until in her enthusiasm she forgot herself entirely and asked Adair MacKenzie if he would please hold a little Mexican baby while she photographed it.

As soon as the question was out of her mouth, she realized that she had made a mistake.

What a torrent it brought forth! Adair MacKenzie bl.u.s.tered as he had never bl.u.s.tered before. He would see himself tied and hung before she would ever find him even touching one of those kids. Why, the idea. Did she think he was an emba.s.sador of good will, that he was down there to kiss babies and wear serapes to show that he was just one of the people.

Did--d--did she think he was--why, what did she think he was? He stuttered in his surprise.

Finally, Nan and Walker and Alice and all the rest broke down in laughter, for Adair MacKenzie was certainly outdoing himself.

With this, he stopped in amazement. And they were laughing at him! "No respect any more at all," he muttered and then he laughed too.

"You, Walker, you," he took the remaining bit of his impatience out on that able young man, "you've no sense at all in that head of yours. Let the girls get out of hand all the time. Now, I'm going to take charge of the party. Had enough of your nonsense. Come on, you," he turned to Nan and the rest with this, "there'll be no more pictures today. We're going back to the hotel now."

"And then what?" Alice ventured to ask.

"You'll see. Just wait. You'll see. This is my party now." So, he right-about-faced and went striding from the market with the others following him.

CHAPTER XIV

SMUGGLERS

"A bullfight, Bess, we're going to a bullfight," Nan exclaimed as she and Bess dressed for the afternoon excursion with Adair MacKenzie.