“Don’t be silly. I’d shoot him before he got near you, anyway.”
“But suppose you missed him?”
“Quit talking such foolishness and wipe the rest of those dishes. Let’s hurry and finish in a jiffy and go on down to the enclosure where they have the pigs and look about for the safest spot in which to wait for Mr. Bear.”
“Well, I s’pose it won’t do any harm to go down and look, but I believe Mrs. Blackwell won’t let——”
“Don’t be a wet blanket, Peg. I’m going to ask her right now, and you’ll soon see that she will.” Jo Ann hastily took her hands out of the dishwater, dried them, and then went over to the door of the bedroom. In another moment she came back. “Mrs. Blackwell’s asleep, so I’ll have to wait to ask her. Florence is sound asleep too. I’m sure Mrs. Blackwell wouldn’t object to our going down now just to look at the enclosure.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Not exactly, but I think I can find it. We’ll follow the path down toward the goat ranch.”
They finished the dishes and put the kitchen in order, then slipped quietly around to the back of the house.
“Here’s the path, Peg. Follow me.” Jo Ann led the way down the path she and Florence had taken the afternoon before.
As they neared the goat ranch Jo Ann began looking for some sign which might lead them to the enclosure.
“It’s bound to be up this way somewhere,” Jo Ann said finally. “Let’s follow this ravine a little ways.”
“But suppose we get lost.”
“We can turn around and go back, can’t we?”
They followed a narrow path leading into the cool, shady depths of a deep ravine, a rugged, precipitous wall towering on their right.
“What a beau-ti-ful place,” breathed Peggy, a few minutes later, as they stopped to rest and cool off.
“Listen! Doesn’t that sound to you like the roar of water?” asked Jo Ann. “The river must not be far away.”
Both girls listened a moment. “It surely does,” agreed Peggy, “but how could that be?”
“We must’ve gone around in a circle and’ll come out not far from our spring. Come on, let’s see.”
They started eagerly up the steep narrow path. A moment later they were startled by the sound of a shrill squeal above the roar of the river.
“Oh, do you suppose the bear’s after another pig?” whispered Peggy, grabbing Jo Ann by the arm. “What’ll we do?”
“I don’t know. I wish I’d brought the gun.”
“Let’s go back,” begged Peggy, but Jo Ann shook her head. “Wait a minute.”
They listened intently a moment, then, to their relief, the squeals changed to contented grunts.
Jo Ann laughed. “Juan must be feeding the pigs, but it did frighten me for a minute.”
A moment later they came in sight of a crude enclosure built against the overhanging wall of the cliff. Tall poles were lashed together around a recess in the wall, making a small circular pen. The next moment they spied Juan working at strengthening a weak place in the wall. It appeared impenetrable, as it was, to them, and they wondered that any animal, even one as large as a bear, could break through such a barricade.
Juan turned from his work as he saw the girls approaching. After the customary salutation he went on in Spanish. “The bear very bad—very ferocious. He like much the pig.”
Jo Ann nodded her head. “Sí, sí—but why can’t we shoot him? I’ll kill him for you.”
Juan shook his head and looked puzzled, and Jo Ann realized he had not understood a word she had said.
She racked her brain for a way to make her meaning clear to him. Finally she picked up a stick and, after pointing to herself, put it to her shoulder and pretended to pull a trigger. “Pling! See! El oso muerto [The bear dead].”
Juan smiled approval; then, jabbering rapidly, he pointed to himself and shook his head.
“No—not you,” Jo Ann tried again, motioning to herself. “Me! See—I’ll shoot him!”
Finally, after several attempts, she succeeded in making him understand.
But Juan shook his head. “The Señora no like,” he said.
“I know,” agreed Jo Ann, “but if you come with Peg and me”—she pointed to each of them—“I think it’ll be all right.”
For a while Peggy enjoyed watching the pantomime, interrupted now and then with a few English and Spanish words. Never before had she seen anyone go to so much trouble to make herself understood. Jo Ann certainly was a determined person.
After a little, however, Peggy became restless and began gathering some of the dainty little ferns growing at the base of the cliff. She wandered over to the bank of the mountain stream and stood for a few moments watching the water as it rushed and tumbled down the rocky gorge. Then her thoughts drifted back to the bear. She wondered if he could be hiding somewhere near, waiting for a chance to steal another pig.
She glanced nervously about, then called over to Jo Ann, “Aren’t you ready to go? They’ll be wondering what’s become of us.”
“Yes, I’m ready,” Jo Ann called back. “Everything’s all set for the surprise party tonight. See that ledge up there?” She pointed to a narrow ledge about fifteen feet straight up the side of the cliff. “That’s where you and I are going to wait for Mr. Bear. We couldn’t be in any danger there—unless you got scared and tumbled off.”
“But how’re we going to get up there?” Peggy asked quickly. “I’m not a bird or a lizard.”
“That’s easy. Juan’s going to cut notches in a pole for us to climb up on,” explained Jo Ann. “But come on, I’ve got lots to do to get ready for tonight.”
She turned and called to Juan, “Don’t you forget.”
He nodded his head vigorously to reassure her, and then she and Peggy started down the path for home.
“Where on earth have you girls been?” Florence called to them.
“Exploring,” Jo Ann called back.
As soon as they reached the porch Jo Ann began talking as rapidly as her tongue could fly, explaining about Juan’s consent to help them on their bear hunt, the ledge above the enclosure where they could wait in safety, and the other details of her plans. She ended with a vigorous appeal to Mrs. Blackwell: “You’ll let us go, won’t you, now that Juan’s consented to go with us and that we’ll be in no danger? We’ve got to help Juan kill that bear before he gets the rest of the pigs.”
Mrs. Blackwell was silent for several moments before answering. After what seemed to Jo Ann to be an age, she said slowly, “If Juan’ll be with you—and if you’ll promise not to take any unnecessary risks, I’ll let you two go.”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Blackwell. That’s grand!” cried Jo Ann.
“I’ll see that Jo Ann doesn’t do anything rash,” put in Peggy.
Florence smiled over at Jo Ann. “Maybe you won’t be so enthusiastic by the time that bear hugs you. I’m glad I’m going to stay here with Mother.”
Jo Ann merely smiled back at Florence and caught Peggy by the arm. “Come on, let’s go in and get our things ready for the hunt.”
The two girls went on into the house, and Jo Ann quickly opened her bag and took out several garments and handed them to Peggy. “We’ll need these knickers. We can’t be bothered with skirts flapping about our legs tonight,” she said.
“No, we surely can’t. They’d be a terrible nuisance.”
“Get the flashlight, and I’ll get the gun. This is a peach of a gun,” Jo Ann added a moment later, running her hand lovingly over the polished surface of the stock. “I wish it were mine.”
“Why? Is it different from any other gun?” Peggy asked.
“Different! I should say it is. It’s two guns in one, a double-barrel shotgun and a 30-30 rifle. This little barrel underneath is the rifle barrel.” She opened a box and held it out to Peggy. “See what vicious-looking cartridges you shoot in it. They’ll blow a hole clear through that bear.”
Peggy’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “I’ve never seen a gun like that before.”
“I never have, either. They’re very expensive. Florence said her father ordered this one so he wouldn’t have to carry two guns when he went hunting. You see, in the mountains you never know whether you’ll run into wild turkeys or mountain lions, and with this gun you’re ready for anything. I want to get started as early as possible tonight.”
They hurried outdoors, built the fire and began preparations for supper.
Later that evening, after the supper things were cleared away, they sat out under the stars, watching a full round moon rise from behind the mountain range across the valley. As it rose higher and higher the shadows began to disappear, and soon it was almost as light as day.
Jo Ann was very thankful for the bright moonlight. It made their daring adventure seem a little less dangerous. Now that it was so light she decided it was time to leave. She sprang up, saying, “I believe it’s light enough for us to see now, Peg. Come on; let’s change our clothes and get started.”
In a few more minutes two knicker-clad figures disappeared down the path.
When they neared the deep gorge which had looked so beautiful to them that afternoon, the girls began to feel a little nervous. They peered at every shadow, almost expecting it to rush at them. Jo Ann held the gun ready to throw it into position in a second. She had the safety on, but the gun was loaded, ready to use. Peggy stayed as close behind her as she possibly could without getting in her way.
When they saw Juan coming to meet them they breathed a sigh of relief. He wore the usual white trousers and loose white shirt of the peon, and they made him look like a ghost walking in the moonlight. But Jo Ann and Peggy were not afraid of ghosts just now. They were looking for something big and black and terrifying.
Jo Ann started to speak, but Juan motioned to her to be quiet. He led them to the base of the cliff, then pointed to the crude notched pole which he had placed against the ledge.
A few minutes later both girls had climbed up the narrow rocky ledge and were wriggling about trying to find a comfortable position. Statue-like Juan took his place just below. Jo Ann held the gun across her lap, ready to throw it into position in an instant.
The moonlight, filtering through the trees, cast grotesque shadows on the ground below them. Several times Jo Ann was sure she saw a dark hulk shambling toward the enclosure, only to discover it was the shadow of a tree swaying in the night breeze. She strained her eyes till they hurt, trying to peer into the dark depths of the ravine from which they expected the bear to appear.
In the excitement of making plans for the bear hunt, Jo Ann had forgotten about the blue-eyed boy, but now her mind drifted back to him and the mysterious way in which he and the rest of the family had disappeared. It was almost as though the earth had opened and swallowed them, she thought. She went over the events of the last two days in her mind and tried to plan some course of action. She did not intend to leave one stone unturned that might help in solving the mystery.
While she sat there dreaming, she was startled by a tiny stone hitting her on the arm. She glanced around quickly and saw Peggy pointing questioningly to the high range of mountains on their right. With difficulty Jo Ann turned partly around on the ledge. A tiny light flickering against the blackness of the mountains caught and held her attention. For a moment she thought it was a star falling; then she noticed that it did not move. What could it be? She looked at Peggy and shook her head to indicate that she did not know what it was.
For a while they watched the light. There was something mysterious about the way it flared up brightly then almost flickered out, only to brighten up again. That could not be a campfire, she decided. Florence had said no one lived up on the side of that mountain. It was too wild for habitation. At that distance a tiny campfire could scarcely be seen.
Suddenly a thought flashed through her mind. It was a signal light. Someone was trying to send a message across the valley. Perhaps the blue-eyed boy had been kidnaped, after all, and that was why the family had disappeared so suddenly.
She turned to tell this to Peggy, then realized she must not talk. The next instant she was half ashamed for being so suspicious. If that boy had been kidnaped, she felt sure those people had not done it—they were merely tools in the employ of someone else, she decided.
Peggy and Jo Ann continued to wait silently for the stealthy appearance of the bear. Myriads of tiny stars winked down at them as they watched the full round moon sail slowly across the deep sapphire sky. Now and then the chirp of a near-by cricket or the croak of a frog could be heard above the constant splashing of the river.
In their hasty preparations for the bear hunt they had forgotten their sweaters, and now they shivered a little, both from excitement and the chill mountain air. The jagged edges of the rock felt anything but comfortable, and their muscles ached from sitting in one position so long. Jo Ann felt dizzy from trying to watch the light high on the mountain side and the dark shadows below her at one and the same time. Was there some connection between this new mystery and the mystery of the blue-eyed boy? she wondered.
When the girls felt they could keep still no longer, Juan stepped out from the shadows and called up to them in Spanish, “The bear no come tonight.”
Jo Ann shook her head. “No, I don’t think he’s coming either. Come on, Peg,” she said, turning around on the ledge. “Let’s get down and stretch our legs.”
Stiffly the two girls scrambled down the pole and began kicking and stretching in an effort to relax their cramped muscles.
Juan began jabbering rapidly in Spanish, and Jo Ann stopped a moment to listen. “The bear no have hambre tonight,” he told her.
She gazed at him questioningly. “Hombre? Man?” she repeated. “No sabe [I do not understand].”
Juan shook his head and began rubbing his hand over his stomach. “No—no hombre, h-ambre.”
Jo Ann’s face broke into a smile, “Ah, sí,” she replied, then turning to Peggy she explained: “He’s trying to tell us that the bear isn’t hungry tonight.”
“I guess he’s right,” agreed Peggy. “Anyway, I’ve had enough. I’m going to the house.”
She started off but had only gone a few steps when she realized Jo Ann was not following. “Aren’t you coming, Jo?” she called to her.
“Yes, in a minute. I want to ask Juan about that light.” Pointing to the light, she asked, “What is it, Juan?”
“Ah, that. It is the light of a carbonero.”
“But what is a carbonero?” she asked again.
Juan rattled off more Spanish, but Jo Ann shook her head.
“Oh, well, I’ll ask Florence,” she said to herself, then turned to follow Peggy. “Buenas noches, Juan,” she called back to him. “Tomorrow night we watch again, sabe?”
Juan nodded his head, “Sí, señorita.”
The two girls hurried back to the house, and on entering they found Florence and her mother fast asleep. They quickly slipped into their pajamas and snuggled up under the warm blankets. Peggy, worn out from their long vigil, soon fell asleep, but Jo Ann kept wondering about the light. Why was it there? And why did it flare up and die down as it had? The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it had something to do with the blue-eyed boy. She would climb the mountain the next day and find the answer to these questions, she decided. If that really was a signal light, she was going to find out what it was all about. Finally, when the faint rose of dawn was beginning to show in the east, Jo Ann drifted off to sleep.
It seemed to her that she had scarcely closed her eyes when she was conscious of someone calling, “Jo, Jo, wake up. If you want any breakfast you’ll have to hurry.”
There was a strong aroma of coffee and the clatter of dishes being placed on the table. Jo Ann opened her eyes and stared around in surprise as she saw Peggy putting the finishing touches to the breakfast table and Florence helping her mother to her chair.
She sprang quickly out of bed. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner? I didn’t mean to sleep so late. I don’t know what made me——”
She stopped suddenly. The events of the night before flashed through her mind: the bear hunt, the mysterious light, the trip of investigation she had planned up the mountain. If she were to accomplish all she wanted to do today, she had no time to waste.
After a brief sketchy toilet, she slipped into her place at the table and began eating rapidly, scarcely conscious of the food she was putting into her mouth. In spite of Peggy’s and Florence’s pointed remarks, she ate in unruffled silence, her mind apparently a million miles away. “Jo’s on the trail of another mystery,” Peggy laughingly remarked to Florence and Mrs. Blackwell.
Just then Jo Ann looked up and asked, “What does carbonero mean, Florence?”
“A maker of charcoal.” Florence smiled. “I know why you’re asking that question. Peggy told me all about your mysterious light and how you killed the big bad bear.” She laughed teasingly, then added, “That light was just from a charcoal maker’s fire.” Jo Ann felt a wave of disappointment sweep over her. She had been so sure there was some mystery about the light and that it would lead her to the blue-eyed boy, and now Florence said it was only the light of a charcoal maker’s fire. “Every now and then an Indian family will go up in the mountains and stay there several days to make charcoal; then they carry it to the villages to sell.”
At these words a sudden new idea leaped into Jo Ann’s mind. It was so simple that she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.
“Girls, I believe I’ve solved the mystery!” she exclaimed. “That Mexican family of the cave have gone up there on the mountain to make charcoal. I’m on their trail again.”
“I shouldn’t wonder but that you’re right,” agreed Florence. “That would explain why those two boys were gathering wood the other afternoon. They were going to use it to make charcoal.”
Jo Ann burst out impulsively, “I’m going up there on the mountain and see if that really is our family of the cave. Who wants to go with me?”
“I think you’re probably going on a wild-goose chase, but I’ll go with you,” Florence replied. “It’ll not be any easy matter to locate the family, even if we can see the smoke from their fire.” She turned to her mother, “You don’t object, do you, if we go up there?”
Mrs. Blackwell hesitated a moment, then answered, “Oh, I think it’ll be all right for you to go if you’ll be very careful and be back before dark.” She smiled over at Jo Ann. “I know you’ll never be satisfied till you find out if your blue-eyed boy’s up there.”
“It won’t take us long,” Jo Ann said confidently. “That light didn’t look as if it were very far away.”
Florence and her mother exchanged amused glances, and then Florence remarked, “We’d better take some lunch with us. It’s lots farther than you think, Jo.”
“I’m not going,” spoke up Peggy. “I’m going to stay here with Mrs. Blackwell.”
Jo Ann sprang up from the table. “Well, let’s get busy this minute and get our work done and get started.” She began stacking the dishes hurriedly.
A few minutes later she was washing the dishes so vigorously that Florence prophesied there wouldn’t be enough left unbroken to set the table for supper. In a surprisingly short time they had finished the dishes, packed the lunch, and were ready to start.
“I believe I’ll carry the gun along,” Jo Ann remarked. “We might see a rabbit or squirrel—or something.”
Soon the two girls were winding their way up a donkey trail that led up the mountain side. From the very first they kept stopping now and then to scan the mountain for the smoke from the charcoal maker’s fire.
Finally Jo Ann cried triumphantly, “I see it! Look, right up there!”
“Yes, that’s it!”
Both girls began searching for a path leading toward the spiral of smoke.
“I know they couldn’t have climbed up this steep place,” Jo Ann remarked. “They’d have had to be human flies to do that. That old grandmother and the little children couldn’t possibly have made it up here.”
“Well, the only thing to do is to follow this trail a little farther and see if we can’t find some trace of the way they did go.” Florence started along the path, Jo Ann close at her heels.
“What on earth made them go to such an outlandish place to make their charcoal, Florence? It looks as if they could’ve found a much better place.”
“Well, you see, the Indian has no way to cut his wood except with a machete—that’s just a big, long butcher knife. He hunts for the fallen limbs and trees that don’t require much chopping.”
“Believe me, if I were a charcoal maker, I’d hunt an easier place to reach than that.”
After they had walked for some distance without noticing any sign of another path leading up the mountain, Jo Ann called, “Say, I believe we’ve gone too far. We must’ve missed their path. That smoke’s back of us now.”
“You’re right. So it is. We’ll have to turn around and go back. If we don’t find that path soon, I think we’d better go back home. The sun is terrifically hot now.”
They began retracing their steps, searching more carefully than before.
“That family would’ve been bound to leave some sort of a trail,” Jo Ann kept saying.
When at last they reached the spot where they had first seen the smoke, Florence said in a discouraged tone, “How about giving it up and going back home now? I’m tired and hot.”
“Not yet,” Jo Ann urged as she wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “Let’s sit down in the shade of this cliff and rest for a while, and then we’ll feel more like going on.” She dropped down on the ground and leaned back against the cool rock.
Wearily Florence followed her example and began fanning herself with her hat.
After she had rested a few minutes, Jo Ann rose, saying, “I’m going to take another look around here while you rest awhile longer.”
She wandered down the trail a short distance beyond the cliff, searching for a place where it would be possible to climb up the mountain side. “If we can’t find their path, then I’m going to find another way to get up there,” she told herself determinedly.
A few minutes later she started up the steep bank, steadying herself now and then by catching hold of the scrubby bushes growing out of the crevices of the rocks. After climbing about twenty-five or thirty feet she found herself on a rocky ledge above the cliff.
Her eyes suddenly began to twinkle. “I believe I’ll slip around this ledge till I’m right above Florence and drop a pebble or two on her, just for fun.”
As she was slipping quietly along the ledge she heard a faint moaning sound. She stopped instantly and listened. “What on earth is that? Sounds like someone in distress. Just suppose it’s a wild animal!” She strained her ears again to listen. Once more the moaning sound floated down to her a little more distinctly.
“That’s a human being!” she told herself excitedly. “I believe it’s more than one person. Sounds as if there must be several in distress. I wonder if it could be that family from the cave in some kind of trouble.”
She leaned over the edge of the cliff and called down excitedly, “Florence! Oh, Florence!”
“Where are you?” Florence called back in a surprised voice.
“Right over you.”
Florence stepped out hastily and stared up at Jo Ann. “How did you ever manage to get——”
“Did you hear that queer moaning sound a minute ago?” Jo Ann broke in.
“Why, no—what——”
“I believe someone’s in terrible trouble. Come on up here and let’s see if we can find them. Be sure to bring the gun.”
“How can I get up there?” Florence asked hesitatingly.
“Go down the trail a little way, and I’ll show you.”
In a few minutes Jo Ann was helping to pull Florence up the bank. No sooner had she reached the ledge than Jo Ann ejaculated, “Listen! There’s that sound again.”
Florence’s eyes stretched to their widest as the cry of distress reached her ears.
“Mercy! That’s awful,” she murmured, low voiced.
“That sound’s coming from right up there!” Jo Ann pointed almost straight above. “Come on, I believe we can get up around this way.”
Jo Ann started climbing the steep bank, Florence following as closely as possible. After they had struggled upward a short distance, Jo Ann caught sight of a faintly marked trail which showed signs of having been used recently.
“Here’s the way they went!” she exclaimed. “We’re on the right track at last.”
“I believe you’re right, because it seems to be winding up toward that smoke,” Florence agreed.
Just as she had finished speaking the moaning sounded again, more clearly than ever.
“Let’s hurry!” cried Jo Ann.
After starting up the faintly marked path, the girls were able to make much better time. Without wasting a moment in conversation they hurried on as fast as they could go. A few minutes later at a turn in the path they came in sight of a crude shelter of boughs thrown up in a hurried fashion against the steep face of rock.
Simultaneously the piteous wailing of several voices burst upon their ears with such heart-rending sadness that involuntarily both girls were filled with sympathy.
The next moment, through an open space in the shelter, Jo Ann saw the white-clad figure of a boy stretched out on the floor. Huddled around him were two women and several little girls, their heads bowed and their faces almost concealed by their black rebosas.
Catching Florence by the hand, Jo Ann quickly led her to the entrance of the shack. As they stepped inside, the mourners raised startled eyes.
Immediately the two girls recognized the two women as the mother and grandmother they had seen in the cave. Swiftly then Jo Ann’s eyes flew to the still, white-clad figure lying on a mat on the ground.
“He’s dead!” flashed through her mind as she dropped on her knees and placed a comforting hand on the mother’s shoulder.
Before she could think of a single Spanish word of sympathy, the poor mother began wailing, “A Dios! My son—my Pepito! He is dead!”
Over and over she intoned this lament, along with the groaning of the grandmother and the little girls.
“How could that boy have died so suddenly?” Jo Ann thought. “He looked frail and undernourished, but——”
Her train of thought was broken by hearing Florence begin questioning the mother. She listened intently to see if she could discover what they were saying. She could catch only a few words now and then, but she understood the mother to say that the boy had died that morning. He and the other boy had gone higher up on the mountain the night before to help the father to gather the wood and start the fire for making the charcoal. The boy had taken sick suddenly—the father had brought him down and he had died soon afterwards.
Before the mother had finished speaking, Jo Ann saw Florence kneel down beside the still figure of the boy and feel first his pulse then touch his forehead and cheek.
“How strange!” Jo Ann thought. “He’s dead—why is she doing that?”
The next moment Florence exclaimed, “Jo, find me a piece of glass this instant! Hurry!”
“Why on earth does she want a piece of glass?” Jo Ann thought, but without stopping to question she began looking about the scantily furnished hut.
“There’s no sign of any kind of glass here. Won’t this do instead?” she asked a moment later as she handed her a small glazed pottery mug.
“It’ll have to do. Break it—I want only a small piece.”
“Why do——” Jo Ann checked the question at the end of her tongue and quickly broke the mug against the stone metate, then handed her one of the pieces.
Wide eyed, she watched Florence place the piece of pottery, glazed side down, over the boy’s mouth. After a short interval she saw her take it up and examine it.
“Look here, Jo! There’s a tiny speck of moisture on this! Don’t you see it?” Florence exclaimed excitedly.
“Yes, but——”
“That means he’s not dead! There’s a fighting chance for him yet.” She turned and repeated this to the mother.
“Let’s try artificial respiration,” Jo Ann put in excitedly. “I know how! I can help you.”
Florence nodded assent as she began lifting the thin little arms up and down, being careful to press them against his sides each time. While she was doing this, the mother and grandmother were mumbling their prayers, the tears rolling down their cheeks.
After Florence had worked for several minutes, she heard sudden footsteps back of her, then a deep voice demanding, “What are you doing? My son is dead. Why are you disturbing him?”
She turned about quickly and saw a dark, grimy, bearded man and behind him the blue-eyed boy. With a gesture to Jo Ann to continue the artificial respiration, Florence rose and began explaining why she thought the boy was alive. She picked up the piece of pottery, saying, “Look! I’ll show you.”
Just as she was placing it over the boy’s mouth, she noticed a tiny flickering of his eyelids. “See!” she cried triumphantly, pointing to his eyelids. “He is alive!”
A look of mingled joy and awe came over the man’s face. “Madre de Dios! My son lives!” he cried. “You are an angel of mercy. You have brought him back to life!”
“Sí, Papá! They have performed a miracle!” the mother agreed, smiling through her tears.
Florence placed her hand over his heart, then she looked up at the parents, saying, “His heart very bad. It is necessary that you take him down from here immediately. It is too high up here.”
“Si—sí, señorita. Whatever you say I will do,” the father said.
Florence and Jo Ann lifted the boy gently and placed him, head lowered slightly, over his father’s shoulder.
As he began to shift the child into a more upright position, Florence spoke up quickly, “No, no—you carry him like this, and the blood will run to his head—then he will get better more quickly.”
“Bien,” the father assented, and started down the path at the easy rhythmical pace of the peon, Florence and Jo Ann following closely.
When they had gone a short distance, the mother caught up with them. “I come with my Pepito,” she said.