The burro also said the bulbs, or potatoes as Delbert called them, were good, and ate all Delbert would give him; so afterwards they tried them themselves. They found them somewhat like rather poor sweet potatoes, but they were a welcome change for their bill of fare, nevertheless. But they could not find them very often.
The baby burro was a great comfort to the children. Sometimes, when they were quite sure his mother was not near, they would let him out of the corral, and he would follow them about like a dog. They even made him drag home little bundles of wood for them sometimes. The other burros were quite tame, but not enough so to be handled at will.
Often the children had glimpses of the deer and sometimes of the pigs. Marian had been afraid at first that these latter might be the wild peccaries and more or less dangerous, but, after seeing them quite close one time, she concluded that they were not, for they certainly looked like the domesticated pig except that they were not at all fat.
Always they kept watch of the sea, never forgetting that each day might bring rescue, but, though many and many a sail passed by in the distant Gulf, never a one turned into San Moros. Sometimes, indeed, Indian canoes had been seen inside the narrow sandbars that divided San Moros from the Gulf, hunting turtles maybe, but they did not come within signaling distance of Smugglers’.
Marian’s white skirt was flapping itself to tatters. Sometimes a heavy wind and rain tore it down altogether, and they would find it beaten into the sand, but it was always rescued, washed, dried, and sent aloft again.
The rainy days were the dreariest. Then there was nothing to do but curl up at the Cave. The brush shade they had built in front did not avail to keep out the rain. Before the rainy season was over they got so sick and tired of huddling in the Cave every time it rained that they would reduce their clothing to a minimum and go on with their occupations as if nothing were happening. If you really don’t mind getting wet, there is a fascination in becoming a part of the gray, drizzling landscape. But they preferred the sunshine.
One day, as Jennie tossed down an armload of wood beside the fire down by the beach, something about her suddenly arrested Marian’s attention. She looked startled.
“Jennie,” she said, “come here.”
Jennie came wondering, while Marian, dish-towel in hand, stood motionless, gazing at her.
“What is it?” asked the sweet-faced little girl.