Reginald Wright Kauffman

“ He was an ugly fellow with a heavy scowl and an unduly large mouth. The stone had cut him slightly between the eye, and a trickle of blood ran down his nose. He sprang to his feet and whipped out a revolver. ”

“ The courtyard clay, pounded hard by the bare feet of one generation of peons after another, was set aglow with the heat until it looked like a bed of living coal. The dancing air was incandescent; it burned the eyes. From human interference the fugitives might be immediately safe in the patio, but here and everywhere else where there was no shade, there lurked the deadly menace of the skies.
“We can't stand this,” Stone continued. “We'll never get anywhere on foot. We've got to get horses somehow.” He addressed Luis. ”

“ It is the lucky hour of the siesta.”
“You mean they're napping?” asked the incredulous Dan.
“But of course, all except the guards, and everybody thinks this door guarded. They have all had a little bread and a great deal of wine, the peons, and so they now repose themselves. It is their right. It is the one right that they have; they could not live without it.”
Inwardly, Stone upbraided himself for his criticism of her. He was glad, even at such a crisis, that he had kept it silent.
“Hurry!” said Luis. ”