Not so, to the stranger, Alessandro's grateful reply in Spanish.
"Another o' these no-'count Mexicans, by thunder!" thought Jeff
Hyer to himself. "Blamed ef I'd lived in a country all my life, ef I
wouldn't know better'n to git caught out in such weather's this!"
And as he put the crying babe into his wife's arms, he said half
impatiently, "Ef I'd knowed 't wuz Mexicans, Ri, I wouldn't ev'
gone out ter 'um. They're more ter hum 'n I am, 'n these yer
tropicks."
"Naow, Jeff, yer know yer wouldn't let ennythin' in shape ev a
human creetur go perishin' past aour fire sech weather's this,"
replied the woman, as she took the baby, which recognized the
motherly hand at its first touch, and ceased crying.
"Why, yer pooty, blue-eyed little thing!" she exclaimed, as she
looked into the baby's face. "I declar, Jos, think o' sech a mite's this
bein' aout'n this weather. I'll jest warm up some milk for it this
minnit."
"Better see't th' mother fust, Ri," said Jeff, leading, half carrying,
Ramona into the hut. "She's nigh abaout froze stiff!"
But the sight of her baby safe and smiling was a better restorative
for Ramona than anything else, and in a few moments she had
fully recovered.
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