“It is the little pony, señor, the small one who is my always friend. I cannot be apart from him. No, it is not possible, I come that where he go so I. You are so good. I tell myself that the Señor Doctor who was so kind as to take away that agony in the ear he will not send me back; he will permit me to go back with him to take care of Chico.” All this was poured out in voluble Spanish, beseechingly, tearfully.
“Humph!” The doctor looked at the captain. “This is a pretty kettle of fish, isn’t it?” he said. “He’ll have to go back on the next ship, of course. Meanwhile I will be responsible for him. I suppose you can manage to give him a place to sleep and something to eat.”
The captain’s lips relaxed under his short moustache. “I don’t exactly see where you are responsible, doctor,” he remarked, “and of course we can’t let him starve, can we? He can bunk in somewhere; that’s easily arranged. We asked you to see him because we thought you might be able to identify him, as it was your pony he was concerned about. Certainly he must be returned to his parents. You know them?”
“Ye-es, after a fashion,” the doctor replied. “You see I happened to perform a slight service for them. In some way or other a grain of corn had penetrated this boy’s ear and had begun to sprout, causing him intense pain. One of the waiters at the hotel learned that I was a surgeon, informed this Paulino Lopez, who was a relative of his, and they begged that I would see the boy. Out of sheer humanity I couldn’t refuse. I went out to where Lopez lives, extracted the corn and in a few days the boy was all right.” The doctor paused.
“But where does the pony come in?” asked the captain.
“That is the sequel. One is bound to get some sort of boomerang if he is too soft-hearted. I’m not practising, as you know, and anyway I would have no right to take a fee, besides who would for a little thing like that? As I told you I went out to the Lopez ranch, saw a swarm of half naked children and a horde of black workmen. This Lopez insisted upon giving me this pony then and there, since I wouldn’t take a fee. I refused, of course, knowing the Spanish grand manner of offering gifts, but here comes the little beast after all when I have no use for him, and now appears this boy whom we don’t know what to do with. Pretty hard lines, isn’t it, in return for a common, every-day bit of benevolence?”
The doctor was so testy that the captain laughed. “Well,” he said, “some persons might not think so. I’m glad you can tell us something about the boy. I thought maybe you could. We’ll see that he gets back home all right.” He turned to the boy. “You stay on the steamer till we get to New York, then we send you back home by next steamer. Understand?”
The boy looked bewildered, his lips twitched, his hands twisted nervously. He cast an imploring look at Joanne who was observing him closely. His big, mournful eyes questioned her, then he plumped down on his knees before her, pouring forth a string of Spanish, only a little of which she could understand. Still, what she did gather was enough to make her jump up from the chair impetuously and go to her grandfather, clasping his arm till he should interrupt his talk with the captain long enough so that he might listen to her.
“Grad, Grad,” she said excitedly, “you know you said you couldn’t keep Chico, that’s his name, the boy says—you couldn’t keep him because there would be no one to look after him. I said I would, and you laughed. Now, you see, comes this boy in answer to my prayers. He’s just sent from heaven like the pony. I’ve always been perfectly crazy for a pony, and I’ll be ill, I will, I will, if he is torn from me.” She burst into tears.
Her grandfather looked down at the excited face and then passed his hand over the girl’s hair. “What would you do with such a nervous, excitable little body?” he said to the captain, who shook his head as if that were a question he couldn’t answer.