Bring him up here, unless somebody has found him already, or you happen to know who he is and where to take him." The vaquero raised his shoulders, half in disappointed expectation of some other command.

"And your brother, senora, he has not himself arrived." A light shadow of impatience crossed her face.

"No," she said, bluntly.
"Come, be quick." She turned towards the house as the man moved away.

Already a gaunt-looking old man had appeared in the porch, and was awaiting her with his hand shadowing his angry, suspicious eyes, and his lips moving querulously.
"Of course, you've got to stand out there and give orders and 'tend to your own business afore you think o' speaking to your own flesh and blood," he said aggrievedly.

"That's all YOU care!" "There was a sick man lying in the road, and I've sent Miguel to look after him," returned the girl, with a certain contemptuous resignation.
"Oh, yes!" struck in another voice, which seemed to belong to the female of the first speaker's species, and to be its equal in age and temper, "and I reckon you saw a jay bird on a tree, or a squirrel on the fence, and either of 'em was more important to you than your own brother." "Steve didn't come by the stage, and didn't send any message," continued the young girl, with the same coldly resigned manner.