“That’s fine. We brought you some corn for your tortillas and some milk for Pepito. He must eat lots and drink much milk, then he will get strong.”
The mother caught hold of Florence’s hand, saying, “A thousand thanks, señorita.”
With a smile of greeting to the family, Jo Ann crossed over to Pepito, who was lying on the petate beside the baby watching his grandmother knot a long slender fiber rope.
“What are you doing?” Jo Ann asked the grandmother curiously, after she had talked a moment.
“Making bags for the charcoal,” she replied.
“But how can you——” she began, then, not knowing the word for carry, she called over to Florence, “Does she mean they’re going to carry charcoal in that thing? I should think it’d fall through such big holes.”
Florence came over beside Jo Ann and smilingly translated her question into Spanish.
“No, it won’t fall through,” Pepito replied earnestly. He raised up and took the partly finished bag from his grandmother and held it up for Jo Ann to see. “The charcoal is big. We pack it with much care, and it no fall through these holes,” he added, shaking his head.
“They fasten a large bag of charcoal on each side of the burro so that all you can see is his long ears sticking out between the bags,” Florence explained. “It looks as if the bags of charcoal were walking down the road.”
After watching how deftly the grandmother’s gnarled old hands tied the knots in the wiry rope, Jo Ann said, “I’d like to have a hammock made like that. Ask her, Florence, if she could make me a long strip that I could use for a hammock. Tell her I’ll buy it from her.”