This the girl did not know: she repeated it among her friends, who all seemed puzzled. Then one man said:
“Anselmo?”
“Si,” Hi repeated. “Anselmo.”
“Si,” the man said, with a swift jabber of assent and explanation to the company. “Anselmo.” He seemed to add that it could be reached through San Marco.
“Yes,” the girl called, “you get Anselmo there.”
“I’m not very tidy for riding with you,” Hi said, shewing the wreck of his clothes, torn in forty places and mired to the throat.
“That doesn’t matter,” the girl said. “Can you climb up?”
He could not climb up; he found that he could hardly stand. The girl and one of the men helped to steady him on his feet; then the men in the brake got hold of him and heaved him in, with cries of:
“Welcome the stranger.”
“Since thou mayst be Jesus, welcome: yet if thou beest not, welcome.”