“And what do you want?” the grandfather asked Basilio. The boy got up and went to the old man.
“Señor,” he said, “have I been ill more than a month?”
“Since we found you, faint and covered with wounds, two moons have passed. We thought you were going to die——”
“May God reward you; we are very poor,” said Basilio; “but as to-day is Christmas, I want to go to the pueblo to see my mother and my little brother. They must have been looking everywhere for me.”
“But, son, you aren’t well yet, and it is far to your pueblo. You would not get there till midnight. My sons will want to see you when they come from the forest.”
“You have many children, but my mother has only us two; perhaps she thinks me dead already. I want to give her a present to-night—a son!”
The grandfather felt his eyes grow dim.
“You are as sensible as an old man! Go, find your mother, give her her present! Go, my son. God and the Lord Jesus go with you!”
“What, you’re not going to stay and see my fire-crackers?” said the little boy.
“I want you to play hide and seek!” pouted the little girl; “nothing else is so much fun.”