He had lain here a number of hours, and now, as he
began to think about evening, he wondered what his father and mother
would do when he did not come home. If they had not worried about
him during the day, they would be alarmed at night.
"There are some coyotes around the neighborhood," thought Jo.
He knew that a number of poultry-yards had suffered from coyotes. Jo
did not suppose that a coyote would usually attack a person.
Chickens, lambs, young pigs, were a coyote's prey, but in Jo's
present situation he did not care to be visited by a coyote.
"I could throw clods at him," thought Jo. "I hope that would scare
him away."
As the sun sank, Jo shouted repeatedly, till his breath was gone. He
hoped that some laborer might take his homeward way across the
unfrequented hill. But the prospect of such relief seemed very
slight, so unused was this place to visitors. Jo saw a wild bird fly
far overhead in the glow of the evening sky. The bird could go home,
but he could not. He could only wait--how long?
After a while, there was the sound of clumsy feet that jolted by the
adobe. Jo heard.
"Come here!" he cried with all his strength. "Come here! Come here!"
The clumsy feet stopped. There was a creaking sound, as of baskets
swung to the ground. A face peered through a break in the wall, and
Quang Po climbed into the adobe.
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