The few moments of rest in the sweet, cool air refreshed Jose. He jumped up quickly. The farm-work must be done before nightfall.

Carlos was barking excitedly. Had he caught the red-legged partridge? Jose turned to see. No, the dog was running toward a stranger, who was walking rapidly in their direction.

Could it be Antonio? Jose's heart-beats almost choked him. But no; this was a well-dressed stranger, with shoes on. He was evidently a man from the city, and a traveller, too, because he carried a hand-bag. And he had a black moustache. Of course it was not Antonio. Antonio would be barefooted; Antonio had no moustache.

Jose called to the dog to leave off barking. The stranger drew near. Stopping, he stroked one of the fawn-brown oxen. He looked at Jose with piercing dark eyes. His olive skin was clear and sunburned.

"Do you live near here, boy?"

Jose pulled off his cap as he answered:

"Sim, Senhor—Yes, sir—a half mile away."

"What is your name?"

"Jose Almaida, Senhor."

The stranger dropped his hand-bag. He waited a moment to control his voice before he said: "Jose,—this is your brother Antonio."

The two brothers rushed into each other's arms and kissed each the other on the cheek.

"Accolade!"—Welcome! Jose cried out at last. Antonio, thumping him gently on the shoulders, had drawn back to look into his face.

"Is it truly you, Antonio? You are so changed—so old—so splendidly dressed!"

"It is your brother Antonio. You, too, are so changed, Jose, that I did not know you. Instead of a very small boy I find a tall, grown lad. How are the father and mother, and the sisters? One little sister, Tareja, I have never seen."

Eager talk followed, questions and answers coming close together. The mild-eyed oxen looked around as if to ask the reason why the homeward journey was so long delayed.

"You say the father can never walk again?" Antonio asked sadly.

"We have had the doctor once. He said father may perhaps have the use of his right hand and foot sometime, if he has the best of care."

"Are there any crops on the farm this year? Who could do the work?"

"The apple and fig trees have borne well. We have good crops of maize and melons and gourds, because father had done the early spring planting before his illness came. Joanna and I did the hoeing and took what care we could. The vines are full of grapes. Father had pruned and trimmed them last winter. Joanna and I are gathering the grapes nowadays and beginning to press them. And I sold some to-day."

"Is this your dog, Jose?" Antonio asked. Carlos had burst out again into barking.

"Yes. Inez Castillo, the daughter of Senhor Castillo—you remember our neighbor who lives on the big farm?—gave Carlos to me when he was a puppy, a year ago. He stays with me always when I work and goes with me wherever I go. He barks in such a friendly way at you that I think he must know you belong to the family."

One of the oxen gave a low cry which the other echoed.

Jose picked up the ox-goad and started them forward. "It is time to go on; the night work must be done."

Antonio lifted his hand-bag into the cart. "Who does that work?" he asked.

"I do. Sometimes Joanna helps. You will help now? You have come to stay at home?" Jose's voice was very wistful.

"I shall stay a while to help. We will not talk about this before the others."

"A little while will help. I am growing bigger every day." Jose drew his slight figure to its fullest height.

Antonio was silent.

"Did you get my post-card, Antonio?" Jose asked timidly, after a few moments.

"Yes; that is why I came home, Jose." Antonio threw his arm lovingly over the little brother's shoulder as they walked on, side by side.

"Please, oh please, do not speak about it before the others,—about my writing to you," Jose begged in a half frightened voice.

"I will not speak about it, Jose, I promise you." Antonio looked down at his brother, whom he remembered as little more than a baby. It was hard to realize that this mere child had been the head of the family for five months.