"Manuel must be half way there by now," said Alma, counting off the time as if the thread of it were being drawn through her heart.
"Without a priest, I tell you—oh, I'd laugh in their faces without a priest!"
"It will take him thirty minutes, at the fastest he can ride, to come here from the hay-ranch," Alma said.
"He will strike them down like the thunder!" Teresa said. "Five men are in my kitchen, five thieves. Wait till the hot water hits them when I begin to throw it out of the boiler—when Meester Barrett comes!"
"Teresa!" Alma drew her into the room, whispering, eager.
"Teresa, I'm going to take my gun and walk out of this house! If I can't get a horse I'll run down the road till I meet him. I'll not let him come here to be murdered by this gang!"
"No, no!" Teresa protested. "You couldn't go, unless you had the wings of a dove you couldn't go. They're out there like dogs under the feet, thieves everywhere. But what are they to Meester Barrett? No-thing!"
"He can't fight twenty of them! I must go and meet him—I must go!"
"Manuel will bring him into the house like a spirit that comes through the door when it is shut. No, palomita, you must not go."
Alma clutched the fat Teresa's arm, clinging to her in a new sweep of terror.
"Oh! What if they stopped Manuel? What if he doesn't come?"
