stolen it were it not that you are such a very good Manuelito whom he loves too much to steal anything from.'
Manuel looked around the square, hoping to see his kid brother pop up that very second from the depth of the darkness to make faces at them. So vividly was the kid in Manuel's mind that he could not believe that anything serious had happened to him. Something so lively and so full of pep as that kid couldn't disappear like a feather. There must be a trace or a fight or a yell or something.
Garcia stood up slowly. For a while he did not know what to do. He had laid his fiddle on the bench. Feeling something in his right hand he looked down and saw that it was the bow. He turned around and laid it close to the fiddle. Then he stared with empty eyes into the night.
The pump-master woman came up to Manuel and his stepmother. A few women followed her, and two men walked up to hear what had happened. So far only Garcia's family and we four men knew that the kid was missing.
The pump-master woman reasoned with the Garcia. She had children herself, she said, and there was not a day in the year when she didn't have to work to find one or the other, and more often than not in places where no Christian soul would ever think a child might be. Why, they had even been found inside of hollow trees, and no one on earth knew how they wriggled in, since the hole was too small and they had to be cut out with an axe. 'Children, dear me, don't tell me anything about children, least of all about little boys. Once we found our Roberto inside the boiler and it was only by a holy chance that the boiler was inspected before water was poured in and the fire started.'
Other women, all mothers, made fun of the Garcia woman's fear, telling her she wouldn't worry so much if she had a dozen brats and not just this one. 'Don't tell me anything about these little rascals,' one woman said; 'these little vermin and good-for-nothings return home always. That's just the trouble with them. I wish some of mine would stay away for good and look out for themselves. Don't you get excited, Carmelita. As soon as he gets hungry he will be back and will make a big row if he doesn't find his frijoles and tortillas ready for him. A boy like that can't just fly off like a mosquito, seen by nobody. You'll see him soon enough and then give him a good whipping so that he knows where he belongs. They are like puppies, that's what they're like.'
Manuel had walked away. After a few minutes we heard him calling in the darkness: 'Carlos! Carlosito! I've got candy, Carlosito! Where are you? I got candy, Carlos. Carlosito!' His voice went farther into the night and finally was heard no longer.
Talk ceased. Everybody listened for an answer from the kid. Yet there was only the whining, the singing, the chirping, the humming from the jungle, at intervals interrupted by Manuel's distant shouts.
Stirred up by Manuel, other groups on the square became interested in what was going on. They all began to move, to fall in line for the dance to which the ghostly music was playing faster every minute.
The pump-master went to the open shed where the pump and the boiler were located. With lighted matches he peered into every corner. Those who were near him watched his every move and expected him any minute to drag out the boy from some hidden retreat behind or under the pump. On seeing him return empty-handed, everybody thought it very silly to have believed the kid to be under the pump or inside the boiler or in the ash pit.
The Garcia looked pitifully from one to another. Holding one fist against her mouth, she nibbled thoughtlessly at her fingers. Her eyes were like an animal's which sees some danger approaching and finds itself without means of defence. A certain thought entered her mind. She took her fist away from her face and hid it in the palm of her left hand. For a while she pressed both hands against her breast. With a jerk she turned around and hurried towards the
Manuel looked around the square, hoping to see his kid brother pop up that very second from the depth of the darkness to make faces at them. So vividly was the kid in Manuel's mind that he could not believe that anything serious had happened to him. Something so lively and so full of pep as that kid couldn't disappear like a feather. There must be a trace or a fight or a yell or something.
Garcia stood up slowly. For a while he did not know what to do. He had laid his fiddle on the bench. Feeling something in his right hand he looked down and saw that it was the bow. He turned around and laid it close to the fiddle. Then he stared with empty eyes into the night.
The pump-master woman came up to Manuel and his stepmother. A few women followed her, and two men walked up to hear what had happened. So far only Garcia's family and we four men knew that the kid was missing.
The pump-master woman reasoned with the Garcia. She had children herself, she said, and there was not a day in the year when she didn't have to work to find one or the other, and more often than not in places where no Christian soul would ever think a child might be. Why, they had even been found inside of hollow trees, and no one on earth knew how they wriggled in, since the hole was too small and they had to be cut out with an axe. 'Children, dear me, don't tell me anything about children, least of all about little boys. Once we found our Roberto inside the boiler and it was only by a holy chance that the boiler was inspected before water was poured in and the fire started.'
Other women, all mothers, made fun of the Garcia woman's fear, telling her she wouldn't worry so much if she had a dozen brats and not just this one. 'Don't tell me anything about these little rascals,' one woman said; 'these little vermin and good-for-nothings return home always. That's just the trouble with them. I wish some of mine would stay away for good and look out for themselves. Don't you get excited, Carmelita. As soon as he gets hungry he will be back and will make a big row if he doesn't find his frijoles and tortillas ready for him. A boy like that can't just fly off like a mosquito, seen by nobody. You'll see him soon enough and then give him a good whipping so that he knows where he belongs. They are like puppies, that's what they're like.'
Manuel had walked away. After a few minutes we heard him calling in the darkness: 'Carlos! Carlosito! I've got candy, Carlosito! Where are you? I got candy, Carlos. Carlosito!' His voice went farther into the night and finally was heard no longer.
Talk ceased. Everybody listened for an answer from the kid. Yet there was only the whining, the singing, the chirping, the humming from the jungle, at intervals interrupted by Manuel's distant shouts.
Stirred up by Manuel, other groups on the square became interested in what was going on. They all began to move, to fall in line for the dance to which the ghostly music was playing faster every minute.
The pump-master went to the open shed where the pump and the boiler were located. With lighted matches he peered into every corner. Those who were near him watched his every move and expected him any minute to drag out the boy from some hidden retreat behind or under the pump. On seeing him return empty-handed, everybody thought it very silly to have believed the kid to be under the pump or inside the boiler or in the ash pit.
The Garcia looked pitifully from one to another. Holding one fist against her mouth, she nibbled thoughtlessly at her fingers. Her eyes were like an animal's which sees some danger approaching and finds itself without means of defence. A certain thought entered her mind. She took her fist away from her face and hid it in the palm of her left hand. For a while she pressed both hands against her breast. With a jerk she turned around and hurried towards the
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