CHAPTER VIII FRIENDS AT LAST
Jo Ann started climbing the steep bank, Florence following as closely aspossible. After they had struggled upward a short distance, Jo Ann caughtsight of a faintly marked trail which showed signs of having been usedrecently.
"Here's the way they went!" she exclaimed. "We're on the right track atlast."
"I believe you're right, because it seems to be winding up toward thatsmoke," Florence agreed.
Just as she had finished speaking the moaning sounded again, more clearlythan ever.
"Let's hurry!" cried Jo Ann.
After starting up the faintly marked path, the girls were able to makemuch better time. Without wasting a moment in conversation they hurriedon as fast as they could go. A few minutes later at a turn in the paththey came in sight of a crude shelter of boughs thrown up in a hurriedfashion against the steep face of rock.
Simultaneously the piteous wailing of several voices burst upon theirears with such heart-rending sadness that involuntarily both girls werefilled with sympathy.
The next moment, through an open space in the shelter, Jo Ann saw thewhite-clad figure of a boy stretched out on the floor. Huddled around himwere two women and several little girls, their heads bowed and theirfaces almost concealed by their black _rebosas_.
Catching Florence by the hand, Jo Ann quickly led her to the entrance ofthe shack. As they stepped inside, the mourners raised startled eyes.
Immediately the two girls recognized the two women as the mother andgrandmother they had seen in the cave. Swiftly then Jo Ann's eyes flew tothe still, white-clad figure lying on a mat on the ground.
"He's dead!" flashed through her mind as she dropped on her knees andplaced a comforting hand on the mother's shoulder.
Before she could think of a single Spanish word of sympathy, the poormother began wailing, "_A Dios!_ My son--my Pepito! He is dead!"
Over and over she intoned this lament, along with the groaning of thegrandmother and the little girls.
"How could that boy have died so suddenly?" Jo Ann thought. "He lookedfrail and undernourished, but----"
Her train of thought was broken by hearing Florence begin questioning themother. She listened intently to see if she could discover what they weresaying. She could catch only a few words now and then, but she understoodthe mother to say that the boy had died that morning. He and the otherboy had gone higher up on the mountain the night before to help thefather to gather the wood and start the fire for making the charcoal. Theboy had taken sick suddenly--the father had brought him down and he haddied soon afterwards.
Before the mother had finished speaking, Jo Ann saw Florence kneel downbeside the still figure of the boy and feel first his pulse then touchhis 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 thisinstant! Hurry!"
"Why on earth does she want a piece of glass?" Jo Ann thought, butwithout stopping to question she began looking about the scantilyfurnished hut.
"There's no sign of any kind of glass here. Won't this do instead?" sheasked 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 andquickly broke the mug against the stone _metate_, then handed her one ofthe pieces.
Wide eyed, she watched Florence place the piece of pottery, glazed sidedown, over the boy's mouth. After a short interval she saw her take it upand examine it.
"Look here, Jo! There's a tiny speck of moisture on this! Don't you seeit?" Florence exclaimed excitedly.
"Yes, but----"
"That means he's not dead! There's a fighting chance for him yet." Sheturned 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 anddown, being careful to press them against his sides each time. While shewas 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 footstepsback of her, then a deep voice demanding, "What are you doing? My son isdead. Why are you disturbing him?"
She turned about quickly and saw a dark, grimy, bearded man and behindhim the blue-eyed boy. With a gesture to Jo Ann to continue theartificial respiration, Florence rose and began explaining why shethought 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 tinyflickering of his eyelids. "See!" she cried triumphantly, pointing to hiseyelids. "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 himback to life!"
"_Si, Papa!_ They have performed a miracle!" the mother agreed, smilingthrough her tears.
Florence placed her hand over his heart, then she looked up at theparents, saying, "His heart very bad. It is necessary that you take himdown from here immediately. It is too high up here."
"_Si--si_, senorita. Whatever you say I will do," the father said.
Florence and Jo Ann lifted the boy gently and placed him, head loweredslightly, over his father's shoulder.
As he began to shift the child into a more upright position, Florencespoke up quickly, "No, no--you carry him like this, and the blood willrun to his head--then he will get better more quickly."
"_Bien_," the father assented, and started down the path at the easyrhythmical pace of the peon, Florence and Jo Ann following closely.
When they had gone a short distance, the mother caught up with them. "Icome with my Pepito," she said.
"Florence, what made you think that boy might not be dead?" Jo Ann askeda moment later.
"Daddy has told me of several cases like that one. Some people, he said,could not stand the high altitude. That boy was frail and undernourishedto begin with, and I figured that the hard work and the high altitudecombined were too much for him."
"How did you happen to think of putting that piece of pottery over hismouth?"
"Well, there's a law in this country that requires a corpse to be buriedwithin a few hours after death. Daddy told me that several times he hasused a piece of glass in this way to prove to the officials that apatient was not really dead."
"It's a blessing you knew about that. I've never seen people morehelpless in my life than those poor peons."
"Daddy says most peons know nothing of modern medicine and are ignorantof some of the simplest remedies."
By this time they had reached a cool, shady spot beside a spring, andFlorence called to the father to stop. "Put him down here."
No sooner had he laid the boy on the ground than she and Jo Ann beganbathing his face with their dampened handkerchiefs.
"One minute, senorita. I bring you water," spoke up the father. He linedthe deep crown of his hat with large green leaves and filled it withwater, then brought it over to the girls.
Florence dipped her hands into the water and let it drip gently on theboy's face and neck.
As soon as the cold water touched his face the boy's eyelids flutteredopen.
Florence turned to the father. "Bring me more water--I want to give him adrink."
With a nod of assent, the man stooped down, broke off a large leaf froman elephant's-ear plant near by and folded it into a cup which he quicklyfilled with water.
Florence then lifted the boy's head slightly and held it while Jo Annheld the improvised cup to his lips. After she had laid him down again,his eyes opened wider, and he stared blankly at the girls for a moment.
Then his gaze fell upon his mother, and he murmured faintly,"_Mi--Ma-ma!_"
With a cry of joy, she exclaimed. "Ah, my
Pepito. You have come back tome!"
"It is necessary that we be very careful," Florence cautioned theparents. "The boy must not talk yet. After he rests longer, then he cantalk."
"_Bien!_ Just as you say." The tears began to flow down the father'scheeks again as he added in a choked voice, "If it had not been for you,senoritas, my Pepito would have been buried. Carlitos and I were digginghis grave when you came."
A shudder of horror swept over both girls as they realized how narrow hadbeen the escape from such a tragedy.
"You must not take your little boy back up on the mountain," Florencewent on. "He will be sick again, if you do."
"Ask him to move his family down to the cave," spoke up Jo Ann eagerly.The thought darted through her mind, "I could find out about theblue-eyed boy, then."
"Good idea!" Florence replied, then translated her suggestion to thefather.
He hesitated a moment then began haltingly, "But my charcoal----"
The mother broke in rapidly, "You can come Up here and make yourcharcoal. We will stay at the cave."
"But--who----" A strange expression of fear passed over his face as heglanced at the girls, then at his wife.
She stepped over hastily to his side and began talking to him in a lowtone.
Surprised at these strange actions, the girls looked questioningly ateach other.
As Florence turned to see how the boy was faring, she overheard themother say, "It will be all right, _Papa_. These are our friends."