The clang of the pilot's bell stopped the clumsy craft; but not before
the ragged little negro boy who had served at Jose's table as steward
had been swept far away by the rapid current.

The utmost confusion immediately prevailed. Every one of the rabble
rout of stokers, stewards, and stevedores lost his wits and set up a
frenzied yell. Some who remembered that there was such a thing, tore
at the ropes which held the single lifeboat. But the boat had been put
on for appearance's sake, not for service, and successfully resisted
all efforts at removal. No one dared risk his life in attempted
rescue, for the river swarmed with crocodiles. There was vain racing,
counseling and gesticulating; but at length, the first wave of
excitement over, passengers and crew settled down to watch the outcome
of the boy's struggle for life, while the pilot endeavored to turn the
unwieldy steamer about.

"Now is the time to put up a prayer for the youngster, Padre," said a
voice behind Jose.

The priest turned. The speaker was evidently a native Colombian. Jose
had noticed him on the boat when he embarked at Calamar, and surmised
that he had probably come up from Barranquilla.

"An excellent opportunity to try the merits of a prayer to the Virgin,
no? If she can fish us out of purgatory she ought to pull this boy out
of the river, eh?" continued the speaker with a cynical smile.

"I would rather trust to a canoe and a pair of stout arms than a
prayer at present," returned Jose with candor.

"_Corriente!_" replied the man; "my way of thinking, exactly! But if I
had a good rifle now I'd put that little fellow out of his misery, for
he's going down, sure!"

It was not unkindly said; and Jose appreciated the man's rude
sentiment. Minutes passed in strained silence.

"_Hombre!_" cried the man. "He's going!"

The lad was evidently weakening. The rapid, swirling current
continually frustrated his efforts to reach the shore. Again the head
went under.

"_Dios!_" Jose exclaimed. "Is there no help?"

Jesus had walked the waves. Yet here his earthly representative,
trained in all the learning and culture of Holy Church to be an _Alter
Christus_, stood helplessly by and watched a child drown! God above!
what avail religious creed and churchly dogma? How impotent the
beliefs of men in such an hour! Could the Holy Father himself, with
all his assumptions, spiritual and temporal--with all his power to
loose from sin and from the imaginary