Jim tried to sit up and take the cup into his own hand but he could not; so, with unexpected gentleness, the man slipped his arm under his patient’s shoulders and raised him to a half-sitting posture. Then he held the cup to Jim’s lips, who drank eagerly, the muddy coffee seeming like nectar to his dry, parched throat.
The drink refreshed him but he was still too weak to rise, or even care to do so. Dozing and waking, wondering a little over his situation yet mostly indifferent to everything, the hours passed.
Jim’s interest was next aroused by the man’s dressing of his arm. He did this with real skill, removing the big leaves of some healing plant, with which it had been bound, and replacing these with fresh ones, confining them in place by long strips of split reeds.
The soft, cool leaves were wonderfully comforting and with the easing of the pain serious thoughts came. To the injured lad everything now seemed a blank from the evening meal at San Leon, after his arrival there, until now. Why he had left that ranch and why he had come to this queer place he could not imagine; but the picture of the beautiful, mission-like house was distinct, and of Dorothy walking across its lawn beside him.
Dorothy! It seemed a long time since he had seen her or heard her sweet voice chide him for his misdoings. Why—now he remembered—he hadn’t said good-night to Dorothy, his first faithful friend. But it is needless to follow the gropings of Jim’s mind back to the realization of his present situation. Yet the first and strongest feeling which possessed him was that he must tell Dorothy where he was. Dolly was such a hand to worry, silly Dolly! And she was his best, earliest friend.
The Mexican brought him his breakfast of bacon and corn bread, with another cup of that coffee which always stood upon the stove. A child came with the man and gazed at Jim with solemn, wondering eyes.
Jim returned the stare with interest. This was the first small Indian he had ever seen and to judge by the little fellow’s face he might have been an old, old man—he was so grave and dignified.
“How are you, sonny?” said Jim.
The midget simply blinked.
“Can’t you talk, kid?” again questioned the stranger, holding out his hand.