Mandeville cheered and strained its
eyes after all the boats, but chiefly was its attention directed
to "La Juanita."
"Ah, voila, eet is ahead!"
"Mais non, c'est un autre!"
"La Juanita! La Juanita!"
"Regardez Grandpere Colomes!"
Old Colomes on the big pier with Madame Alvarez and his
granddaughter was intently straining his weather-beaten face in
the direction of Nott's Point, his back resolutely turned upon
the scudding white wings. A sudden chuckle of grim satisfaction
caused La Petite's head to toss petulantly.
But only for a minute, for Grandpere Colomes' chuckle was
followed by a shout of dismay from those whose glance had
followed his. You must know that it is around Nott's Point that
the storm king shows his wings first, for the little peninsula
guards the entrance which leads into the southeast waters of the
stormy Rigolets and the blustering Gulf. You would know, if you
lived in Mandeville, that when the pines on Nott's Point darken
and when the water shows white beyond like the teeth of a hungry
wolf, it is time to steer your boat into the mouth of some one of
the many calm bayous which flow silently throughout St. Tammany
parish into the lake. Small wonder that the cry of dismay went
up now, for Nott's Point was black, with a lurid light overhead,
and the roar of the grim southeast wind came ominously over the
water.
La Juanita clasped her hands and strained her eyes for her
namesake.
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