was redoubled. One
morning, in the absence of the _capataz_, one of the men struck him,
because he had delayed in fetching the water. And then they all began to
take turns at it, when they gave him an order, dealing him a kick,
saying: "Take that, you vagabond! Carry that to your mother!"

His heart was breaking. He fell ill; for three days he remained in the
wagon, with a coverlet over him, fighting a fever, and seeing no one
except the _capataz_, who came to give him his drink and feel his pulse.
And then he believed that he was lost, and invoked his mother in
despair, calling her a hundred times by name: "O my mother! my mother!
Help me! Come to me, for I am dying! Oh, my poor mother, I shall never
see you again! My poor mother, who will find me dead beside the way!"
And he folded his hands over his bosom and prayed. Then he grew better,
thanks to the care of the _capataz_, and recovered; but with his
recovery arrived the most terrible day of his journey, the day on which
he was to be left to his own devices. They had been on the way for more
than two weeks; when they arrived at the point where the road to
Tucuman parted from that which leads to Santiago dell'Estero, the
_capataz_ announced to him that they must separate. He gave him some
instructions with regard to the road, tied his bag on his shoulders in a
manner which would not annoy him as he walked, and, breaking off short,
as though he feared that he should be affected, he bade him farewell.
The boy had barely time to kiss him on one arm. The other men, too, who
had treated him so harshly, seemed to feel a little pity at the sight of
him left thus alone, and they made signs of farewell to him as they
moved away. And he returned the salute with his hand, stood watching the
convoy until it was lost to sight in the red dust of the plain, and then
set out sadly on his road.

[Illustration: "HE STOOD WATCHING THE CONVOY UNTIL IT WAS LOST TO
SIGHT."--Page 263.]

One thing, on the other hand, comforted him a little from the first.
After all those days of travel across that endless plain, which was
forever the same, he saw before him a chain of mountains very high and
blue, with white summits, which reminded him of the Alps, and gave him
the feeling of having drawn near to his own country once more. They were
the Andes, the dorsal spine of the American continent, that immense
chain which extends from Tierra del Fuego to the glacial sea of the
Arctic pole,