Plainly, that rush of ragged men, those shots,
those ferocious shouts from the plaza, were too much for the
peaceful shopkeeper and his family, and they had taken refuge in
some neighbor's garden.
There was no time to waste. Johnnie dismounted and, walking to the
shelves where some imported canned goods were displayed, he began
to select those delicacies for which he had been sent. The devoted
Jacket was at his side. The little Cuban exercised no restraint;
he seized whatever was most handy, meanwhile cursing ferociously,
as befitted a bloodthirsty bandit. Boys are natural robbers, and
at this opportunity for loot Jacket's soul flamed savagely and he
swept the shelves bare as he went.
"Hey, Leslie! Get something to carry this stuff in," O'Reilly
directed over his shoulder. Receiving only a muttered reply, he
turned to find that his fellow-countryman had cut down a string of
perhaps two dozen large straw sombreros and was attempting to
select one that fitted his head.
"Oh, look!" Branch murmured. "Forty dollars' worth of lids, but--
all too small. They must have been made on the head of a cane."
"Take the whole string, but get us something to wrap up this grub
in. Hurry!"
Spurred by O'Reilly's tone and by a lively rattle of rifle-shots
outside, Leslie disappeared into the living-quarters at the back
of the store.
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