“Plowing is too hard work for poor Tano,” Doña Josefa said, looking at Victoriano working in a field near the house, while the sad tears ran down her pale cheeks.
“Yes, mamma, it is; and I begged him not to try to plow again, but he insisted on doing so,” Mercedes replied.
“What is the matter? Did he fall down?” Doña Josefa exclaimed, alarmed, drawing her chair close to the window.
Mercedes arose from hers, and came to look down the orchard. Yes, there was Victoriano sitting on the ground, and Everett standing by him. Presently Everett sat down beside him, and an Indian boy, who had also been plowing with another team, came up, leading his horses towards the house.
Doña Josefa thought that they wanted to put the boy at some other work, and that Tano was resting, so she sat quietly waiting to see whether he would walk.
Mercedes now sat by her mother, also to watch Victoriano. She said:
“Mamma, tell Tano not to try plowing, the ground is very damp. He will have that lameness again.”
“I have told him, but he says he must work now, since we are so poor, and have only land with a title that no one believes in, and no one will buy. So what is he to do but work? And he has been working very hard all the fall and winter, but I fear he is getting that lameness again. He walks lame already.”
They now saw that the Indian boy had run to the house to hitch his horses to Clarence's phæton and drive to where Tano was sitting. Assisted by the Indian, Everett put Victoriano in the phæton, and brought him to the house.
It was as his mother and sister had feared—Victoriano was again unable to walk. With great difficulty, assisted by Everett and the servant boy, he reached his bed.