It’s thur usooal way ’mong these hyur Mexikin sheemales.
Ye’re more o’ a woman than she air, I guess; an twenty times more o’ a fool.
Thet I’m sartint o’.
I know her a leetle by sight, an somethin’ more by reeport.
What hev fetched the critter hyur ain’t so difeequilt to comprehend; tho’ it may be to git it out o’ her, seein’ as she kin only talk thet thur Mexikin lingo; the which this chile can’t, nor wudn’t ef he kud.”
“Sowl, Misther Stump! yez be mistaken.
She spakes English too.
Don’t yez, misthress?”
“Little Inglees,” returned the Mexican, who up to this time had remained listening. “Inglees poco pocito.”
“O—ah!” exclaimed Zeb, slightly abashed at what he had been saying. “I beg your pardin, saynoritta.
Ye kin habla a bit o’ Amerikin, kin ye?
Moocho bono—so much the betterer.
Ye’ll be able to tell me what ye mout be a wantin’ out hyur.
Ye hain’t lost yur way, hev ye?”
“No, senor,” was the reply, after a pause.
“In that case, ye know whar ye air?”
“Si, senor—si—yes, of Don Mauricio Zyerral, this the—house?”
“Thet air the name, near as a Mexikin mouth kin make it, I reck’n. ’Tain’t much o’ a house; but it air his’n.
Preehaps ye want to see the master o’t?”
“O, senor—yees—that is for why I here am—por esta yo soy aqui.”
“Wal; I reck’n, thur kin be no objecshun to yur seein’ him.
Yur intenshuns ain’t noways hostile to the young fellur, I kalklate.
But thur ain’t much good in yur talkin’ to him now.
He won’t know yo from a side o’ sole-leather.”
“He is ill?
Has met with some misfortune?
El guero has said so.”
“Yis. I towlt her that,” interposed Phelim, whose carroty hair had earned for him the appellation
“El guero.” “Sartin,” answered Zeb.
“He air wounded a bit; an jest now a leetle dulleerious.
I reck’n it ain’t o’ much consekwence.
He’ll be hisself agin soon’s the ravin’ fit’s gone off o’ him.”
“O, sir! can I be his nurse till then?
Por amor dios! Let me enter, and watch over him?
I am his friend—un amigo muy afficionado.”
“Wal; I don’t see as thur’s any harm in it.
Weemen makes the best o’ nusses I’ve heern say; tho’, for meself, I hain’t hed much chance o’ tryin’ ’em, sincst I kivered up my ole gurl unner the sods o’ Massissipi.
Ef ye want to take a spell by the side o’ the young fellur, ye’re wilkim—seein’ ye’re his friend.
Ye kin look arter him, till we git back, an see thet he don’t tummel out o’ the bed, or claw off them thur bandidges, I’ve tied roun him.”
“Trust me, good sir, I shall take every care of him.
But tell me what has caused it?
The Indians?
No, they are not near?
Has there been a quarrel with any one?”
“In thet, saynoritta; ye’re beout as wise as I air meself.
Thur’s been a quarrel wi’ coyeats; but that ain’t what’s gin him the ugly knee.
I foun’ him yesterday, clost upon sun-down, in the chapparal beyont.
When we kim upon him, he war up to his waist in the water o’ a crik as runs through thur, jest beout to be attakted by one o’ them spotty critters yur people call tigers.
Wal, I relieved him o’ that bit o’ danger; but what happened afore air a mystery to me.
The young fellur had tuk leeve o’ his senses, an ked gie no account o’ hisself.