Chapter V: The Siesta Hour

All the way home from the market Jo Ann kept wondering what excuse she would make to Florence so that she might go back after the rope.

To her delight the opportunity came sooner than she expected. While the three girls were at the table lingering over their late breakfast, Felipe entered with a message for Florence from her father.

“Daddy needs my help for about half an hour in the office,” she explained. “I often assist him in the simple cases. You girls amuse yourselves any way you wish while I’m busy.”

“All right,” Peggy answered promptly. “I believe I’ll run across the Plaza to that curio store we saw yesterday and buy some postcards. I’d like to look at the curios, too.”

“The sun’s getting so hot now that you’d better carry my parasol, if you’re going out,” Florence suggested over her shoulder as she left the room.

Although Jo Ann had not said a word, she immediately decided that here was her chance to go back to the market after the rope.

Jo Ann got the parasol and then hastened out the door, Peggy at her heels.

“Let’s go back to the market for the rope first before we go to the curio store,” Jo Ann suggested as soon as they reached the street.

“All right, but let’s hurry so I’ll be sure to have time to stop and get the cards,” replied Peggy.

When they reached the market the crowd had thinned considerably, and without much difficulty they found the booth and bought the rope.

Peggy smiled widely as they left the booth and remarked teasingly, “I notice you didn’t ask for _ropa_ this time.”

Jo Ann grinned good-naturedly. “No, I looked it up in my dictionary and found the right word for rope.”

As it had taken longer to make the trip than they had anticipated, Jo Ann hurried Peggy along.

“I’ve got to get this rope inside the house and hidden before Florence finishes helping her father.”

Just as they turned the corner by the Plaza, Jo Ann halted abruptly. “Peg, look, standing there in the doorway—Felipe! I can’t go past him, carrying the rope loose like this.”

“Well—I’ll tell you, Jo. We’ve forgotten the postcards. Let’s go to the store and get them, and maybe by the time we get back he’ll be gone.”

To their vexation, when they returned to the same corner fifteen minutes later, they found that Felipe was still standing in the doorway.

“Look, Peg! The watchdog is still there. I’m not going to throw this rope away now that I’ve got this near home with it. What shall I——” She stopped abruptly. “I’ve got it! I’ll slip it inside the parasol.”

Putting her words into action, she closed the parasol and slipped the coil of rope inside.

Peggy laughed, “That’s a funny-looking parasol, I must say.”

“I don’t care if it is funny. You walk close to me, and I’ll carry the parasol between us. Now, how’s that?”

“All right, I suppose—only I’m sure Felipe is wondering why we’re not carrying it over our heads as we’re supposed to do.”

With an effort to conceal their amusement, they hurried on past Felipe and up to their room.

Quickly snatching the rope from its hiding place, Jo Ann threw it into her trunk and slammed the lid down with a bang.

“There now—I’m glad that much is done,” she remarked with a sigh of satisfaction. “I hope I don’t have as much trouble using this rope as I’ve had getting it.”

Even as she spoke these words she began thinking of the many problems she still had to solve before she could reach the mysterious window. Would she be able to climb the crude scaffold? How would she be able to fasten the rope after she got to the roof? And how could she manage to do all this without being seen?

All through lunch and later that afternoon during the siesta hour these questions kept racing through her mind.

Just as they had done the day before, Florence and Peggy quickly succumbed to the heavy, drowsy stillness. But not Jo Ann. The harder she tried to sleep, the more wide awake she became.

Finally in desperation she got up and sat gazing out of the window. How could she stand this quiet and inaction so long? Glancing down at her watch, she realized it would be at least an hour before Florence and Peggy were awake.

“Even being outdoors in the hot sun’s better than sitting here doing nothing,” she told herself.

No sooner had this thought entered her mind than she decided to go outside and examine the scaffold on the building at the end of the block.

“It’ll take only a few minutes, and I’ll be back before the girls are awake,” she thought.

Quickly she rose and slipped noiselessly out of the room and past the sleeping Felipe at the head of the stairs. Once outside she hastened on around the corner and looked anxiously down the street to the farther end of the block to see if the scaffold were still there.

“Good! It’s there!” she exclaimed to herself the next moment.

Without a thought about the extreme heat she ran down the street to the corner. As she gazed up at the high, crude scaffold made of peeled poles fastened together, a slight tinge of fear passed over her. How high it looked! And what a blank wall it was fastened on! There wasn’t a sign of a window or opening—not even a ledge—to break the smooth, regular surface of the wall.

“That’s the crudest scaffold I’ve ever laid eyes on,” she thought, as she examined the hardwood poles which were fastened to the wall in several places by wooden pegs.

Near the top of the poles she noticed that there was a rough platform from which dangled a long rope with a bucket attached to the end.

“I wonder how the workmen get up to that platform,” she thought.

Going over to the other side of the scaffold she discovered that deep notches had been cut at regular intervals in one of the poles, for footholds. “So this is the way they get up! These notches look awfully far apart, though. I wonder if I could reach them.”

Carefully she pulled herself up to the first notch, and then on to the second and third.

“Sure, I can climb this!” she exulted. “This is more fun than I’ve had in a long time.”

Up she climbed to the platform and then scrambled over onto it.

While she was sitting there resting a moment, she was busily examining the rest of the scaffold to see if she could reach the top of the building. She noticed that, although there were no more notches cut in the pole, there was a crosspiece near the top to hold the scaffold in position against the building.

“If I can only reach that crosspiece, I know I can climb up on the roof,” she told herself.

Cautiously she rose and, wrapping her legs and arms around the pole, slowly pulled herself up to the crosspiece; then balancing herself on it she climbed over the edge of the roof.

However, hot as she was, she knew that she had no time to cool off, since the siesta hour was almost over, and the girls would soon be awake.

“I must not get caught again,” she told herself.

She looked hastily around the curious roof, noting with surprise that it resembled a flat cement floor with a low, thick stone wall around it.

“How on earth can I fasten a rope to a roof like this?” she asked herself in dismay. “While I’m up here I’ve just got to see the roof over that mysterious window. If it’s like this, what will I do?”

Hurrying to the division wall, she scrambled over it, only to be confronted by another wall. Undaunted, she climbed over it, and then over still another, till she came in sight of a chimney.

“This must be the chimney of the big fireplace in the kitchen,” she told herself.

Climbing up on the broad outer wall of the roof she peered over, trying to find the position of the mysterious window.

“Why don’t they have window casings or something to show where their windows are?” she thought in disgust.

She lay flat on her stomach and leaned farther out over the edge of the building. Although the hot stones burned her, she kept on persistently examining the surface of the wall below till she made out the outlines of the mysterious opening.

“Whew!” she exclaimed aloud. “I know I’m scorched.”

She sprang down quickly, took a pin out of her hair, and tried to scratch a mark with it on the wall directly in line with the window. To her disgust the hairpin proved to be too frail a tool to have any effect upon the old plaster of the wall. Tossing the pin away, she looked about for some other object with which to mark the spot, but on finding nothing she hurried off toward the scaffold.

“I’ve got to rush, or the girls’ll be awake and miss me,” she told herself as she vaulted the first division wall.

In a surprisingly short time she reached the end of the building. Leaning over the wall, she looked about for the crosspiece on which she must get a foothold before sliding down to the platform below.

The next instant she gasped and drew back. Surely her eyes were deceiving her.

Cautiously she peeped over the wall again. Yes, there on the platform only a few feet beneath her sat a Mexican with a bucket of paint beside him. Just then loud, coarse laughter sounded from the street, and peering down she saw several workmen applauding one of their number who, poised at the bottom of the scaffold, was dramatizing a love scene. Pulling out a piece of white material from his girdle, he pressed it first to his lips, then to his heart, talking rapidly all the time.

Only two words floated up to her—_señorita_ and _amor_. As the actor waved the white material in response to the applause, an expression of consternation came into Jo Ann’s eyes. That was her handkerchief! She must have dropped it when she was climbing. The señorita of this silly farce was no other than herself.

Horrified, she drew back out of sight. What must she do now? She dared not climb down with those awful men there. If her handkerchief had caused such guffawing, what would happen when they saw her?

Alarmed by these thoughts, she fled back toward the chimney. It would offer a little shelter, at least.

“What a mess I’ve made of things!” she thought as she ran. “Peggy’s right about my curiosity getting me in trouble. I’m in it now.”

Huddling behind the chimney in an effort to hide from the workmen should they come up on the roof, and to escape the direct rays of the sun, she racked her brain for a way to get out of this predicament without disgracing herself.

“I must not do anything that will hurt Florence or her father,” she told herself. “Florence said it would never do for a girl to do anything that’d attract attention in any way. If I were back home and these were American workmen, I wouldn’t have a bit of trouble getting out of this predicament. But down here—! I’d have a time trying to make them understand me. They might think I was crazy or something, but I wouldn’t care if it weren’t for the Blackwells. There must be some way out of this embarrassing situation.”

At the same time that Jo Ann was puzzling over her problem Peggy was arousing from her siesta. With half-opened eyes, she stretched lazily and looked about the room. Florence was beginning to stir, but where was Jo Ann?

“These lazy, quiet hours are hard on a girl of Jo’s temperament,” Peggy mused. “I wonder where she is and what she’s doing?”

The next moment Florence sat up, yawned two or three times, then asked drowsily, “Where’s Jo?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. I just woke up and discovered the bird had flown.”

“Maybe she got tired waiting for us to wake up and went down to the drugstore for a drink. She ought to be back in a few minutes.”

As Florence slipped out of bed she remarked tentatively, “I’ve planned a shopping tour for this afternoon. I thought you’d be interested in seeing some of the souvenirs and drawnwork in the stores.”

“We’d love it,” replied Peggy promptly, rising at once. “I’ll hurry and get ready so we’ll have a long time to shop. I want to get some of those dainty little handkerchiefs like you sent me for my birthday.”

“I’m so glad you like them. The Mexicans really do beautiful handwork, but unless you see something you especially want this afternoon, you’d better wait and get the handkerchiefs directly from the women who make them. They’ll be much cheaper that way.”

A half-hour later Peggy announced proudly, “I’m all ready—how about you? Don’t you think it’s time Jo was back?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t see what’s keeping her. I’ll ask Felipe how long she’s been gone.”

When Florence returned a few minutes later there was a look of bewilderment on her face. “Felipe says he hasn’t seen her,” she announced.

Peggy’s eyes opened wide. “Where do you suppose she can be, then?”

“I’m sure I can’t imagine,” replied Florence, shaking her head dubiously.

“Do you suppose—she surely wouldn’t——”

“What in the world are you talking about?” broke in Florence, seeing the alarm on Peggy’s face.

“I was just wondering if she’d slipped down that back street again. She can’t get that mysterious window out of her mind, you know.”

“That’s so, but, surely, after getting caught yesterday, she wouldn’t risk it again. I’m afraid for her to be in the sun so much when she’s not used to it.”

“Jo doesn’t really mean to do anything that isn’t right,” Peggy defended, “but when she makes up her mind, there’s no stopping her.”

A little frown appeared on Florence’s forehead. “I’m really worried about her going on with this scheme. I don’t see how she can carry it out without being in great danger. Isn’t there some way you could persuade her to give it up?”

“No. She isn’t afraid of anything, and she’s the most determined person I’ve ever seen.”

“Let’s go into Dad’s office and out on his balcony so we can watch for her,” suggested Florence a moment later. “She’ll surely be back in a few minutes.”

“I’m going to give her a piece of my mind,” fumed Peggy. “She ought to know better than to go off that way. Something might happen to her.”

Looking in every direction, the girls were dismayed at seeing no signs of Jo Ann.

“She seems to have disappeared in thin air,” said Peggy anxiously. “Something must be wrong. She wouldn’t stay away this long.”

Almost simultaneously Florence turned her head, listening. “What was that? Didn’t you hear someone whistle?”

The next moment a faint but distinct whistling note sounded.

“That’s Jo’s whistle,” exclaimed Peggy. “But where is she?”

“Here I am!” called a low voice. “Up on the roof.”

“What!” The girls gasped in amazement.

Blankly they stared above them as a red, flushed face, framed with tousled hair, peeped over the edge of the roof.

“What in the world are you doing up there?” called Peggy, finding her tongue.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” Jo Ann called down, “but I’m caught and can’t get down.”

“Well, how did you get up there in the first place, and why can’t you get down?”

“I climbed that scaffold—it was easy—but while I was up here the workmen came, and now I can’t get down. It’s hot as the mischief up here in the sun.”