After talking for a few minutes more Jo Ann remarked to Florence, “Ask the mother something more about Carlitos, now. If he isn’t their child, ask her where they got him and what nationality he is—he doesn’t understand English.”
Florence began to laugh. “Hold on! I can’t ask all of those questions at once. I’m a little dubious about asking any at all. They don’t seem to like to talk about him.”
“Yes, I know, but I’ve got to find out about him.”
“We-ell, I’ll see what I can find out, but I can’t promise you much.”
Florence walked back to the mother, who was cooking beans over the fire in the middle of the cave. After chatting with her awhile she tactfully brought up the subject of Carlitos. “How long has Carlitos lived with you?”
“Oh, for a long time. He is as one of our family.”
“How old was he when you took him?”
“Like Rosita over there.” The mother gestured toward the smaller one of the two little girls.
Florence glanced over at the child, who, she judged, must be about a year and a half old. So Carlitos had been with this family about seven years, she thought. “Where is his mother?” she asked.
“Ah, she died and left her baby with me. I was his nurse.”
“That was too bad. Wasn’t there any relative to take him?”
The woman shook her head. “No one.”
The thought darted through Florence’s mind that perhaps after all Carlitos was American or English. Since he had been so young when he was taken into this family, he could not have remembered any of his native language.
“Was his mother an American?” she asked.
“Yes, and she was so good to me and so beautiful. She had eyes of blue just like Carlitos’.”
Just then Jo Ann crossed over to Florence’s side. “Did I hear right? Did she say Carlitos was an American?”
“Yes.”
“So I was right at first about his not being a Mexican. What else did she say?”
Florence quickly recounted all that the mother had told her.
When she had finished, Jo Ann said, “Well, there’s something queer about a beautiful American woman leaving her baby with an ignorant Indian nurse. Ask her where his father is. That child’s bound to have some relatives somewhere. Looks strange to me that, as poor as this family is, they’d keep Carlitos when they can hardly feed their own children.”
“Well, all right, I’ll ask her. She doesn’t seem to mind talking about him today as much as she did yesterday.”
Florence turned to the mother. “Why did you have to keep Carlitos when you have so many children? Where was his father?”
The woman shook her head. “I don’t know. He no come back.”
“Where did he go?”
“To the mine. The beautiful American woman go every day to watch for her husband, but he no come. It was cold, and she got sick. She had much cough, and one day she died.”
To the girls’ surprise the woman walked over to the grandmother and began talking in a low, rapid voice. The grandmother nodded and smiled over at the girls.
“She said something about us, or the grandmother wouldn’t have looked over at us that way,” said Jo Ann. “At least she’s smiling—that’s encouraging.”
They noticed the woman go over into a dark recess, then come back shortly. In the light of the fire they could see that she held a soiled yellowed envelope in her hand.
On coming closer the woman said earnestly, “You are American like his mamá and papá. You have been good to us like they were.” She touched Florence on the cheek first, then Jo Ann. “And you are beautiful like his mamá.”
She held up a sealed envelope. “His mamá give this to me. I keep it for Carlitos. When he get big, I give it to him.”
Florence took the envelope into her hand. She uttered a little gasp. “Why, this is a letter! It is addressed to a man in New York.” She read the name out loud. “Mr. E. P. Eldridge.”
“Well, for Pete’s sake!” exclaimed Jo Ann. “Why didn’t she mail that?”
Not stopping to listen to Jo Ann, Florence asked the woman quickly, “Is Carlitos’ name Eldridge—Carlitos Eldridge?”
The woman hesitated a moment; then, after Florence had repeated the name Eldridge several times, she nodded her head. “Yes, I think that was the name. It has been many years—I forget.”
“This is a letter. Why didn’t you put it in the mail?”
The woman looked blank at this question.
“Didn’t Carlitos’ mother tell you to put this in the mail?” Florence asked.
“No. His mamá speak very little Spanish. She only been in Mexico a little time. When she was dying she give this to me and tell me, ‘No let big mean man get this.’”
“Who was the big mean man?” Florence asked, puzzled at this new turn in her story.
The woman broke into a confused account which Florence later translated to Jo Ann. “I can’t make out exactly what she’s talking about, but she says some big man who had something to do with the mine was mean to Carlitos’ mother after her husband had disappeared. She said they were all afraid of him.”
“But that’s no excuse for her not mailing the letter,” Jo Ann said.
“All she understood was to keep this from that man,” Florence explained. “She’d never seen a letter before in her life. She couldn’t read or write. And the American woman couldn’t explain it to her, you know. The only other people at this mine were Indian peons like themselves, so there was no one she could go to.”
“It’s hard to realize that she didn’t know what a letter was when she saw one,” Jo Ann remarked, then looked down at the envelope with renewed interest. “I wish we dared to open this and read it, but of course we can’t do that.”
“No; the only thing for us to do is to mail it now.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Jo Ann replied quickly. “It might get lost. It has to be carried so far before it even gets to a postoffice. Besides, it’s about seven years since this letter was written. Why not write a letter to this address explaining the situation?”
Florence pondered over this plan a moment, then spoke up briskly: “I have a better idea than that. I’ll write to Daddy and explain it all to him and have him telegraph to this Mr. Eldridge in New York. That’ll save lots of time.”
“You’re right, it certainly will.”
Florence turned and explained to the woman that she and Jo Ann were going to send word to this man whose name was written on the envelope. “It may help Carlitos,” she ended.
“Ah, you are so good to want to help Carlitos,” the woman exclaimed.
“I wish we could find something to write this address on, but we can’t,” said Florence. “We must look at it very carefully so as to be sure we get it right.”
Both girls read and reread the address, then repeated it aloud to each other.
“Now let’s hurry and get home before we forget it,” said Jo Ann.
After a hasty “Adios” to the family, the two hurried out of the cave.
When the girls reached the house, almost breathless from their rapid climb, Jo Ann immediately burst out, “I was right! There is a mystery—about the blue-eyed boy!”
“Wait a minute, Jo,” put in Florence. “Let’s get that address down first of all.” She grabbed up a piece of paper and scribbled down the address, then showed it to Jo Ann. “Is this right?”
Jo Ann studied it carefully. “Yes, I’m sure it is.” She turned back to Peggy and Mrs. Blackwell. “That boy’s an American! He’s an orphan.”
“Why, I thought you said he couldn’t speak English!” exclaimed Peggy.
“I did—and he can’t. He was left with this family when he was a baby, and so naturally doesn’t know anything but Spanish. This Indian woman, María, was his mother’s servant while she was up at the mine.”
“That sounds as if the boy must have come from a well-to-do family.”
“I’m sure he did,” Jo Ann replied, and Florence added, “I gathered from what María said that his father was either the owner of the mine or had an interest in it.”
“Suppose you tell us the whole story from beginning to end, Florence,” suggested Peggy. “It sounds so unlikely that an American boy of good family would be left with poor ignorant Indians like this.”
“I haven’t got it straight in my mind either. It’s a mystery all right—a mystery that’s far from being solved. I’ll tell you all we found out.” Florence recounted all that María had told her and showed both her mother and Peggy the piece of paper with the address which they had seen on the envelope at the cave.
“Jo and I think we ought to write to Daddy at once and ask him to telegraph to this Mr. Eldridge,” she ended. “What do you think of that plan, Mother?”
“I believe it’d be a wise thing,” Mrs. Blackwell answered thoughtfully. “It’d save a great deal of time, I’m sure.”
“I know it would. Fortunately today’s the day we get our mail. I’ll write my letter right away and when the man comes, I’ll give it to him to take back. We won’t get our mail again till next Tuesday—four whole days to wait before we can hear from Daddy!”
“He ought to have some interesting information for us by that time,” put in Jo Ann.
While Florence busied herself with writing the letter to her father, Jo Ann kept up a steady chatter about the mystery of the blue-eyed boy. “I’d certainly like to find out more about that man that María kept calling the ‘mean man.’ What reason could he have had for having been so hateful to Carlitos’ mother? From what María said everybody else liked her. Another thing I want to know is why his father disappeared so suddenly and where he went. A mystery within a mystery.”
Peggy smiled. “You ought to be satisfied this time, Jo. It’ll keep you busy for a long time if you untangle all this mix-up.”
About a half hour later, Jo Ann caught sight of a man with a big sombrero riding a burro leisurely up the cart road toward the house.
“Somebody’s coming,” she called to Florence. “Is it the man that brings the mail?”
Florence came running out on the porch. “Yes—that’s the one. He’s bringing us some groceries, too.”
“Let’s run down and meet him. I can’t wait to see if I have any letters.”
The three girls tore off down the road.
“Got any mail for us?” Florence asked on nearing the rider.
The man nodded his head. “Ah, many letters!”
“Give them to me,” Florence cried in Spanish, then added to Peggy and Jo Ann, “I know Mother and I’ll have one from Dad.”
“And I ought to have two or three!” exclaimed Peggy.
“Here too,” added Jo Ann.
The Indian slipped off the back of his burro and slowly began untying one of the bundles.
“I wish he’d hurry,” grumbled Jo Ann. “He’s the slowest thing I ever saw.”
“Just have patience. You can’t hurry him.”
“One thing’s certain, none of the mail could’ve been lost out of that bundle—it’s tied so tightly,” smiled Peggy.
Finally the man handed a bunch of letters and papers to Florence, and she sorted them out quickly and gave Peggy and Jo Ann their share; then all three hurried back to the house. Several minutes later the man brought in the groceries and other articles that they had ordered sent out from the city.
Florence gave him the letter she had just written to her father, saying, “Be very careful—don’t lose this letter. It’s very important.”
“Sí, señorita, I sabe! I’ll be careful.” The man nodded, then went back to his burro.
As soon as the girls had finished reading their mail, they picked up their groceries and carried them out to the kitchen.
When Jo Ann unwrapped the butter and the bacon, she remarked, “What’ll we do with these things? We won’t dare put them in our refrigerator box down at the spring. That old bear would be sure to find them again. We’ve just got to get him. I was too excited over saving Pepito yesterday to think about anything else. But we must watch again tonight for that bear. He’ll be getting hungry by this time and’ll come back for another pig. Your mother’ll let us go, won’t she, Florence?”
“I imagine so.”
“Well, if we go, I’m going to take a sweater and a cushion,” spoke up Peggy. “I got cold the other night, and it was so uncomfortable sitting on that rough hard ledge.”
The other two began to laugh, and Jo Ann added, “Whoever heard of taking a cushion on a bear hunt?”
“If you get too comfortable, you’ll go to sleep and tumble off the ledge,” put in Florence. “Then the bear won’t have to break into the pen for his supper.”
“Not with Jo around,” Peggy laughed teasingly. “Why, she’s such a good shot she’d have the bear killed before he could take a step toward me!”
Jo Ann grinned. “You just wait till I get a chance to demonstrate my marksmanship, Peg. I’ll show you that I am a good shot.”
“Changing the subject—what’re we going to do with this butter and bacon?” Florence queried, looking at the two packages on the table.
“Let’s don’t leave the bacon in the kitchen,” Peggy cut in. “The bear might smell it and come snooping around here.”
“How about putting both the bacon and butter in jars and hiding them down in the water under a rock?” suggested Jo Ann. “That way he could neither smell nor see the food.”
“Good plan,” approved Florence.
“She does get a brilliant idea once in a blue moon,” laughed Peggy.
They set to work at once to carry out Jo Ann’s plan and soon had the bacon and butter safely hidden down in the stream just below the spring.
After the girls had eaten their midday meal and washed the dishes, they stretched out on their cots for a siesta.
Jo Ann called over to Peggy teasingly, “Be sure to take a long nap today. I don’t want you to go to sleep and tumble off the ledge tonight. You’d make so much noise that you’d scare the bear away, and I want to get him tonight sure.”
“You’ll need plenty of sleep yourself to keep your eyes open to watch for him.”
Florence called over, “You both’d better stop talking and go on to sleep, or you’ll both tumble off the ledge.”
Shortly after dark that evening Peggy and Jo Ann started off toward the enclosure where the pigs were kept.
“We certainly need the flashlight tonight,” Peggy remarked. “It’s dark, isn’t it? The moon isn’t up nearly so high as it was the other night.”
They had not gone far till they spied the white-clad figure of Juan coming toward them.
“I certainly am glad to see him,” exclaimed Peggy. “I’ve been dreading crossing that ravine. It’s so dark and spooky down there.”
“I’m not sorry to see him myself,” admitted Jo Ann.
When Juan drew near, he motioned to them to be quiet. In a low voice he said to Jo Ann, “I think the bear come tonight.”
“What’d he say?” asked Peggy curiously.
“I don’t know for sure, but it was something about the bear.”
Juan turned and led the way to the enclosure. As he drew near he pointed over to it, saying something about the pigs and the bear.
“I believe he’s saying something about the pigs being restless,” Jo Ann told Peggy in a low voice. “Don’t you hear them? They didn’t do that way the other night. Sometimes animals know instinctively when danger’s near, and I believe those pigs do.”
“Well, let’s hurry and get up on that ledge before the bear comes,” Peggy whispered.
They climbed up the notched pole as rapidly as they could and settled themselves on the ledge, Jo Ann with her gun cocked, lying across her lap. Juan remained below at the foot of the pole, as he had before.
For what seemed an interminable time to them they sat perfectly still waiting for the coming of the bear. Every now and then Jo Ann would fancy that she saw a dark shadow moving below and would raise her gun, only to discover that it was merely the shadow of a tree swaying in the breeze. She noticed, too, that the pigs were growing more restless. “That old bear must be prowling around near here,” she thought. She leaned over and strained her eyes to peer into the darkness of the ravine beyond the moonlit space directly below her.
Not long afterwards she heard a slight cracking sound. She peered instantly in the direction from which it had come. Her eyes widened as she saw a black shaggy head rear up above the enclosure, one paw tearing at the poles.
Simultaneously she heard Peggy gasp in fright.
Jo Ann raised her gun, waiting to get a good aim before pulling the trigger. “I mustn’t miss him. I’ve got to kill him the first shot,” she told herself. “If I miss, he’ll get back in those dark shadows, and I can’t see him then.”
Just then there was a loud crashing noise. The bear’s head dropped out of sight as he pulled out one of the poles.
A few seconds later the bear reared up again and Jo Ann saw a long black arm reach through the narrow opening. Just as he was jerking out another pole she pulled the trigger.
Almost simultaneously with the report of the gun Jo Ann heard a deep growl, then the thud of a heavy body falling. A few moments later she was amazed to see a dark hulk shamble off toward the darkness.
Instantly she pulled the trigger again. “Oh, shucks! I’ve missed him!” she thought.
After the reverberations had died away she turned to Peggy. “I’m sure I hit him. He must be wounded or he wouldn’t have fallen so hard.”
“I heard him make a queer choking noise, above the squealing of the pigs!” Peggy declared excitedly.
Just then Juan called up, “You hit him! You hit him!”
“Sí, sí. I think so too,” Jo Ann replied.
The three listened intently to the snapping of branches and the clatter of loosened stones as the bear made his way up the ravine. When the sounds finally died away, Peggy started climbing down the pole. When she was about halfway down there sounded a loud crashing, and she hurriedly scrambled back up the pole to the ledge.
“I believe the bear’s coming back again,” she cried.
After listening intently for a few moments, Jo Ann said, “No, I don’t think he’s coming back. I believe he’s wounded—badly wounded.” She called down to Juan. “Is it all right for us to come down now?”
“Sí, señoritas,” he called back. “The bear gone.” He waved his hand in the direction of the ravine.
The girls cautiously climbed down the pole.
Jo Ann reloaded her gun and, holding it in readiness, she made her way with Juan and Peggy to the hole the bear had torn in the enclosure.
“Shine your flashlight down here, Peg,” she ordered. The next moment she exclaimed, “Oh, look, here’s some blood! I knew I hit him!”
“You certainly did!” Peggy cried.
“Sí, señorita, you much good!” Juan ejaculated, then began jabbering so fast that Jo Ann could not understand a single word. He kept gesturing toward the trickle of blood leading toward the ravine.
Jo Ann shook her head. “Not tonight, Juan. Mañana we go.”
“Sí, mañana,” he agreed and then set to work repairing the hole the bear had torn in the enclosure, while Peggy held the flashlight for him.
“I believe it’ll be a long time before Mr. Bear comes back here,” Jo Ann declared in a satisfied tone.
As soon as Juan had finished, the girls, with a “Buenas noches,” to him, started off toward the house.
When Jo Ann and Peggy reached the house, Florence met them at the door. “My, I’m glad to see you!” she exclaimed. “Ever since we heard those shots, Mother and I’ve been worried. Did you kill the bear?”
“I’m not sure. I know I wounded him, because I saw the blood on the ground,” Jo Ann replied, “and I kind of believe I killed him. We heard him shamble off up the ravine, but I don’t believe he went very far.”
“Judging by that stream of blood, I feel sure he couldn’t have lasted long,” Peggy added.
“That’s fine!” praised Florence. “Now Juan won’t lose any more of his pigs.”
“As soon as it’s daylight, I want to follow his trail and see if I can find him,” Jo Ann said. “Peggy wants to go, too.”
“You’re not going to leave me behind this time,” Florence put in, smiling. “I’m going with you.”
“O. K.,” Peggy and Jo Ann agreed together, and Jo Ann added, “Whoever wakes up first in the morning calls the other two.”
Shortly after the first faint rays of dawn had appeared the three girls set off down to the enclosure, Jo Ann carrying the gun as before. On reaching it they picked up the bloodstained trail and followed it up the ravine.
After they had gone a short distance, the trail led to the bank of the stream.
“Look here!” Jo Ann exclaimed. “Here’s a great big spot of blood. This must be the place where we heard him stop last night.”
Florence pointed down to the prints made by the bear’s paw. “Poor thing! He was trying to stop his wound with mud.”
Jo Ann’s and Peggy’s eyes widened in surprise. “I never heard of such a thing!” declared Peggy.
“I never did either,” said Jo Ann. “I didn’t know bears had that much sense.”
“Daddy told me they did it, and he’s had a good deal of experience hunting. You can see for yourself how the bear scraped up the mud here.”
“He succeeded pretty well in stopping the flow of blood,” observed Jo Ann. “The trail isn’t nearly as plain now.”
They followed the faint marks upward a short distance. Suddenly they heard something moving just ahead of them. They stopped instantly. Jo Ann threw the gun to her shoulder, then cautiously crept around a boulder so she could get a better view.
Just at that moment she saw Juan rise up to his feet.
“Oh, Juan!” she cried. “I thought you were the bear! I nearly shot you.”
Juan did not understand a word of what Jo Ann had said, but he pointed excitedly, “Look! Here is the bear! You killed him!”
The three girls hurriedly climbed up beside Juan. Their eyes widened in amazement as they saw the size of the shaggy black animal lying on the ground before them.
“My, isn’t he immense!” gasped Florence.
“No wonder he could tear down those poles so easily,” Jo Ann remarked.
“If I’d known he was that big I’d have been scared to death!” exclaimed Peggy.
Hunter-like, Jo Ann stooped down and pointed to the bullet wound in the animal’s left side. “See! Here’s where my bullet came out. I hit him in the right shoulder when he was reaching for that other pole.”
“I can breathe much more freely now that he’s actually dead,” put in Peggy.
“Isn’t he a beauty,” Jo Ann admired. “It’s too bad I had to kill him, but we just couldn’t have him prowling around here. I’m going to have a bearskin rug to take home with me now, to show what a good hunter I am. Florence, I wish you’d tell Juan to skin him for me. Tell him to be careful about skinning the feet and to be sure to leave on the claws.”
Florence quickly relayed Jo Ann’s request to Juan, and he nodded assent, “Bien, señoritas,” and went on in a rapid flow of Spanish.
“He wants to know if we want some of the meat,” Florence translated to the girls.
Peggy tilted her nose disdainfully. “Bear meat! That doesn’t sound good to me.”
“I never have tasted bear steak,” Jo Ann put in. “I’d like to try it, wouldn’t you, Florence?”
“We might try a little. I’ll tell him to cut us off a small piece.”
“Oh, tell him to take a great big piece to the cave family.”
“That’s a fine idea!” Florence praised. “They’ll have a feast. That’ll probably be the first meat they’ve had in many a day.”
After Florence had delivered this message to Juan and they had exclaimed over the size of the bear again, they turned around and set off for the house.
When they came near they saw Mrs. Blackwell waiting for them on the porch.
“Oh, Mother!” Florence called. “Jo got the bear all right! You just ought to see him. He’s huge!”
“He must’ve been the old granddaddy of all the bears in this part of the country,” Peggy added impressively.
Mrs. Blackwell smiled. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that. I’ve been worried every time you girls’ve been out of sight.”
Every now and then the rest of the day the girls’ conversation would drift back to the subject of the bear.
The next morning, when they were eating breakfast, Jo Ann suggested that they go down to the cave and see how the family was getting along.
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Florence. “I hope they haven’t let Pepito eat too much of that bear meat.”
“We’ll get to see Carlitos again, and the father, José,” Jo Ann added. “I have lots of questions that I want to ask José. I believe he can tell us more about Carlitos than María could. I want to find out more about that big mean man that she kept referring to.”
“Well, I’m going without fail this time,” put in Peggy. “I want to see that wonderful blue-eyed boy.”
“We’ll hardly have time to go this morning—we got up so late. Let’s have lunch a little earlier so we’ll have a long time this afternoon to stay with the cave family,” suggested Florence.
Mrs. Blackwell spoke up, smiling: “I’m as curious as Peggy is to see the blue-eyed boy. I wonder if you couldn’t bring him up here and let me take a look at him. I’d like to see Pepito too.”
“All right, we’ll do that very thing,” Jo Ann replied.
“Pepito’ll probably not be strong enough to come yet,” Florence said quickly. “We’ll see how he is today, and maybe he’ll be able to make the trip up here in a few more days.”
Jo Ann’s eyes began to shine. “I know what let’s do! As soon as Pepito’s well enough to come, let’s have a little party for the cave children and the ones at the goat ranch.” She asked hastily, “Would that disturb you too much, Mrs. Blackwell?”
Mrs. Blackwell shook her head. “No; I’d love to have a party for them. I doubt if they’ve ever had one in all their lives.”
“I feel sure they haven’t,” agreed Florence, “and it’ll be almost as much fun for us as it will be for them. Don’t you think so, Peggy?”
“Indeed I do. I’m strong for the party.”
Just after they had sat down to eat their lunch, a few hours later, they heard the clattering sound of hoofbeats coming down the road. “Listen! That isn’t a burro—sounds like a horse!” exclaimed Florence. “Who in the world would be riding a horse around here? I’m going to see who’s coming.”
She sprang up and started to the door, the other two quickly following her example. They had not watched long before they saw a horse and rider appear over the edge of the mesa.
A few minutes later Florence suddenly cried excitedly, “Why, it’s Daddy!” Off she flew down the trail, fleet as a deer, to meet him. Peggy turned to Mrs. Blackwell and passed on the good news of Dr. Blackwell’s coming.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” ejaculated Mrs. Blackwell, her eyes sparkling. She hurried out on the porch and waited eagerly for him and Florence.
As soon as the first greetings had been exchanged, Dr. Blackwell gazed down at his wife appraisingly and remarked, “How well you look! You’re recuperating much more rapidly than I’d thought possible.”
“With this invigorating mountain air and such good nurses I couldn’t help but get well in a hurry,” Mrs. Blackwell replied, with a smile that included all three girls.
In a little break in the conversation Florence spoke up, “You’re just in time for lunch, Daddy. We had just sat down to the table. Come on before everything gets cold.”
“I won’t need a second invitation. I’m terribly hungry after that long hot ride,” Dr. Blackwell replied as he escorted his wife to the table.
No sooner were they all seated than Jo Ann asked Dr. Blackwell, “Did you send that telegram to that Mr. Eldridge?”
He nodded. “Yes, I sent it, but I got word there was no one by that name at that address.”
“Oh, that’s terrible!” exclaimed Jo Ann. “I was so in hopes we could find some of Carlitos’ relatives. What’ll we do now?”
“I’ve already written to the chief of police to see if he can trace this Mr. Eldridge,” Dr. Blackwell replied. He smiled over at Florence. “I couldn’t make much out of part of your letter—I couldn’t get the connection between a blue-eyed boy in the poor Indian family and the man in New York. Suppose you girls start at the beginning and tell me all you know about them.”
Florence nodded over at Jo Ann. “It’s your story. You tell it. You’re the one who discovered the blue-eyed boy and became interested in him.”
“All right.” Jo Ann plunged into an account of seeing Carlitos and Pepito the first time, then on till she came to the trip up the mountain. She stopped and smiled over at Florence. “It’s your turn now. You were the star actor and doctor in this part of the story.”
Florence obediently took up the account where Jo Ann had broken off.
Dr. Blackwell listened attentively to their every word, and when they had finished he praised both girls highly, Jo Ann for her detective ability, and Florence for her first-aid skill in saving the boy’s life. “I’d like to see this sick boy while I’m up here and give him a thorough examination. And I certainly want to see the blue-eyed boy. I’m as interested in his story as you are. All the time you’ve been talking about this mysterious boy I’ve been racking my brain to recall a rumor I heard some time ago about an American who was down here searching for a brother whom he had not heard from for several years. I was wondering if there could possibly be any connection between him and your story. When I go back to the city, I’ll see if I can find out anything more about this man.”
“We’d already planned to go down to see the cave family this afternoon, and so we’ll take you with us,” spoke up Florence. “It’s not very far to the cave.”
Dr. Blackwell looked over questioningly at his wife, saying, “I don’t like to go off and leave you.”
“That’ll be all right,” Mrs. Blackwell replied. “I always take a nap right after lunch.” She smiled and added, “Your orders, you know.”
Dr. Blackwell turned to Florence again. “I’ll go with you girls while your mother’s taking her nap, but I won’t stay long.”
A short time later the three girls and Dr. Blackwell went down to the cave, reaching there just as the family were finishing their feast of bear meat and the other food the girls had given them.
“Let me go in and talk to them first and tell them who you are, Dad,” Florence murmured.
She walked on inside and quickly explained to José that her father, who was a doctor, had come down to see how Pepito was getting along.
José stepped forward and politely shook hands with Dr. Blackwell; then each member of his family timidly followed his example.
“I’m much interested in your son Pepito,” Dr. Blackwell told José in his fluent Spanish. “I’d like to see if there’s anything I can do to help him.”
José hesitated a moment, then began apologetically, “I no have money and——”
With a little gesture of his hand Dr. Blackwell dismissed this objection. “That’s all right. I don’t want money.”
On hearing this José turned and called Pepito to his side.
Knowing the nature of the Indian so well, Dr. Blackwell realized that he must win Pepito’s confidence first before he could make a complete examination.
While he was busy with Pepito, María called the three girls to the back of the cave. She gestured proudly to the baby lying in a rope hammock. “See, my Pepito fix this like you say.”
Jo Ann smiled approvingly. “That was clever of Pepito to use my idea of a charcoal bag for a hammock, wasn’t it, girls?”
“It was clever of him to fasten it to these stalactites, too,” added Peggy. “Aren’t they beautiful? They’re so white and sparkling back here where the smoke hasn’t reached them. Stalactites always remind me of big icicles hanging from the roof.”
Noticing Carlitos at her side just then, Jo Ann remarked to Florence, “Before you forget it, you’d better tell Carlitos and the other children about the party.”
“All right.” As Florence knew that the word party had no meaning for the children she began explaining about the cakes and dulces that she and the girls would have up at the house for them. Immediately their faces began to beam.
“Oh, señorita, we’ll be most happy to come!” Carlitos explained, acting as spokesman for the younger children.
As soon as Dr. Blackwell had completed the examination of Pepito, he came over beside the girls. With the keenest interest he eyed Carlitos and talked to him for a few minutes; then he turned to Florence and said, “I’m going back to your mother now, but you girls may stay as long as you like.”
“We’ll be along in a little while,” Florence replied. “We’re not quite ready to leave.”
After he had given the parents a few directions about caring for Pepito, he bade them all “Adios” and left.
No sooner had he gone than Jo Ann suggested to Florence that she ask José about the part the big mean boss had played in Carlitos’ life. “Ask him what made that man so mean to Carlitos’ mother and if he has any idea what became of his father.”
“Well, I’ll do my best, but first I want to tell María about Daddy’s not being able to find that Mr. Eldridge.”
After Florence had talked to María a few minutes, she began questioning José. Jo Ann listened intently to their conversation, but José talked so rapidly that she could catch only a word now and then. Finally, discouraged, she remarked to Peggy, “Why is it that foreigners always talk so much faster than Americans?”
Peggy laughed. “It does sound that way, but I suppose they really don’t.”
In spite of her failure to understand much, Jo Ann persisted in listening and watching the expression on their faces. All at once she saw Florence’s eyes widen as if in surprise. “What is it, Florence?” she broke out impulsively. “What did he tell you then?”
Florence turned quickly. “Oh, he said this mean boss was plotting to get rid of Carlitos! That’s why he took his family away from that mine and has been hiding up here in the mountains.”
“But why did that man want to get rid of Carlitos?” Jo Ann asked quickly.
“I can’t figure that out yet. He said that this mean boss had given orders for all the boys who were large enough to help at the mine. José and María sent Pepito up to work but kept Carlitos away—they were afraid the man would mistreat him.”
“But why should this man want to mistreat Carlitos?” Jo Ann queried curiously.
“One reason, José said, was that this man had been so mean to Carlitos’ mother. They had also suspected that he’d had something to do with the disappearance of his father and so were afraid to let him know that they even had Carlitos. José said they moved ’way back up in the mountains to keep him from finding out about Carlitos. José himself kept on working at the mine, though. All went well till one day when Pepito was sick and couldn’t go to work and Carlitos slipped off to the mine and took his place, because he was afraid the boss would beat Pepito when he returned.”
“That man must’ve been a terrible creature,” put in Jo Ann indignantly. “But go on. What happened?”
“Well, while Carlitos was working at the mine, the boss saw him and became suspicious about him. He asked José all kinds of questions about Carlitos, but José wouldn’t answer. He just shrugged his shoulders, threw up his hands and kept saying, ‘No sabe.’ That made the boss furious, as well as more suspicious, and he ordered José to make Carlitos work all the time thereafter. That evening, when José was leaving the mine, he chanced to overhear one of the miners bragging to another about the easy money he was going to get from the boss for kidnaping the blue-eyed boy for him. José was immediately terrified, because he knew that the boy was Carlitos.”
“Horrible!” Jo Ann ejaculated.
Florence turned back to José, and after talking to him again she translated to Jo Ann and Peggy, “José said on hearing this that he rushed home and told María and the grandmother that they must all leave immediately. They packed up their few possessions on the burro and left that very night. They wandered over the mountains then till they came here.”