“But, Mrs. Blackwell, we wouldn’t be in any danger,” protested Jo Ann. “We’d hide in a safe place and watch for the bear; then, when he came for another pig, we’d shoot him—that’s all.”
“I’m afraid, my dear, that it wouldn’t be as simple as that.”
Florence, seeing the worried expression on her mother’s face, changed the subject. “The bear must’ve smelled the bacon, and that’s the reason he found our box at the spring. By the way, I wonder what time it is.” She got up and walked to the door. As she looked in at the clock sitting on their improvised dressing table, she gasped, “Good gracious! I had no idea it was so late. If we’re going to have any dinner around here today, I’ll have to start the fire this very minute.”
She went on through the house toward the kitchen, Peggy and Jo Ann following a moment later.
“I’ll build the fire, Florence,” offered Jo Ann, taking the wood out of her hands. “I’ll have it burning before you and Peg get something ready to cook on it—and I’ll start it Mexican fashion, too.”
“Don’t be too sure, Jo,” teased Peggy. “Suppose there aren’t any live coals left?”
“We’ll see.”
Peggy and Florence disappeared into the kitchen, and Jo Ann placed her armful of wood down beside the outdoor fireplace. She stirred the coals left from their breakfast fire then carefully laid several small pieces of wood over them. Leaning down, she began blowing on the coals as she had seen the peon women do. Soon, to her delight, tiny flames began licking at the wood. She kept on blowing a few minutes longer, then sat back on her heels to look with satisfaction at the fire which was now burning brightly in the fireplace.
“When in Mexico do as the Mexicans do,” she called gaily to Florence and Peggy. “I’m getting good. I beat you, and I didn’t have to use a match, either. Now bring on your dinner.”
“You didn’t beat us much. Here, put these potatoes on to boil,” Peggy replied as she handed a pot of potatoes to Jo Ann. “I used the last of the water over them. Hadn’t I better get some more?”