brought it in.
There was neither pole nor paddle in it. And it was half full of
water. It must have drifted all night. Did it break away from its
mooring, think you?"

Rosendo looked at Jose. The latter replied quickly: "That is the most
reasonable supposition, Juan. But Rosendo is very grateful to you for
securing it again."

When the lad had gone, Rosendo sat with bowed head, deeply perplexed.

"The pole and paddle, Padre, were left on the island. I took them out
when we landed. Diego pushed off without them. He--the boat--it must
have drifted long. But--did he land? Or--"

He stopped and scratched his head. "Padre," he said, looking up
suddenly with an expression of awe upon his face, "do you suppose--do
you think that the Virgin--that she--made him fall from the canoe into
the lake--and that a _cayman_ ate him? _Ca-ram-ba!_"

Jose did not vouchsafe a reply. But his heart leaped with a great
hope. Rosendo, wrapped in profound meditation, wandered back to his
house, his head bent, and his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

CHAPTER 29

The rainy season dragged its reeking length through the Simiti valley
with fearful deliberation. Jose thought that he should never again see
the sun. The lake steamed like a cauldron. Great clouds of heavy vapor
rolled incessantly upward from the dripping jungle. The rain fell in
cloud-bursts, and the narrow streets of the old town ran like streams
in a freshet.

Then, one day, Rosendo abruptly announced, "Padre, the rains are
breaking. The dry season is at hand. And the little Carmen is fourteen
years old to-day."

It gave the priest a shock. He had been six years in Simiti! And
Carmen was no longer a child. Youth ripens quickly into maturity in
these tropic lands. The past year had sped like a meteor across an
evening sky, leaving a train of mingled light and darkness. Of Diego's
fate Jose had learned nothing. Ricardo and his companion had
disappeared without causing even a ripple of comment in Simiti. Don
Mario remained quiet for many weeks. But he often eyed Jose and
Rosendo malignantly through the wooden grill at his window, and once
he ordered Fernando to stop Rosendo and ply him with many and pointed
questions. The old man was noncommittal, but he left a dark suspicion,
which was transmitted to the receptive mind of the Alcalde.
Acting-Bishop Wenceslas likewise was growing apprehensive as the weeks
went by, and both Jose and Don Mario were the recipients