Calling in some hombres from the rear of the hacienda, he gave
them ample instructions, with medicine and food, and an hour
later Harry and I were lying side by side in his own bed--a rude
affair, but infinitely better than granite--refreshed, bandaged,
and as comfortable as their kindly ministrations could make us.
The old Spaniard was a direct descendant of the good Samaritan
--despite the slight difference in nationality. For many weeks he
nursed us and fed us and coaxed back the spark of life in our
exhausted and wounded bodies.
Our last ounce of strength seemed to have been used up in our
desperate struggle down the side of the mountain; for many days
we lay on our backs absolutely unable to move a muscle and barely
conscious of life.
But the spark revived and fluttered. The day came when we could
hobble, with his assistance, to the door of the hacienda and sit
for hours in the invigorating sunshine; and thenceforward our
convalescence proceeded rapidly. Color came to our cheeks and
light to our eyes; and one sunny afternoon it was decided that we
should set out for Cerro de Pasco on the following day.
Harry proposed a postponement of our departure for two days,
saying that he wished to make an excursion up the mountain.
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