“How did you happen to think of putting that piece of pottery over his mouth?”
“Well, there’s a law in this country that requires a corpse to be buried within a few hours after death. Daddy told me that several times he has used a piece of glass in this way to prove to the officials that a patient was not really dead.”
“It’s a blessing you knew about that. I’ve never seen people more helpless in my life than those poor peons.”
“Daddy says most peons know nothing of modern medicine and are ignorant of some of the simplest remedies.”
By this time they had reached a cool, shady spot beside a spring, and Florence called to the father to stop. “Put him down here.”
No sooner had he laid the boy on the ground than she and Jo Ann began bathing his face with their dampened handkerchiefs.
“One minute, señorita. I bring you water,” spoke up the father. He lined the deep crown of his hat with large green leaves and filled it with water, then brought it over to the girls.
Florence dipped her hands into the water and let it drip gently on the boy’s face and neck.
As soon as the cold water touched his face the boy’s eyelids fluttered open.
Florence turned to the father. “Bring me more water—I want to give him a drink.”