ed,
he had won them, almost to a man.

Meantime, six weeks had passed since Rosendo had departed to take up
his lonely task of self-renouncing love. Then one day he returned,
worn and emaciated, his great frame shaking like a withered leaf in a
chill blast.

"It is the _terciana_, Padre," he said, as he sank shuddering upon
his bed. "It comes every third day. I went as far as Tachi--fifty
leagues from Simiti--and there the fever overtook me. I have been
eight days coming back; and day before yesterday I ran out of
food. Last evening I found a wild melon at the side of the trail. A
coral snake struck at me when I reached for it, but he hit my
_machete_ instead. _Caramba!_"

Jose pressed his wet hand, while Dona Maria laid damp cloths upon his
burning forehead.

"The streams are washed out, Padre," Rosendo continued sadly. "I
worked at Colorado, Popales, and Tambora. But I got no more than five
_pesos_ worth. And that will not pay for half of my supplies. It is
there in a little bag," pointing to his soaked and muddy kit.

Jose's heart was wrung by the suffering and disappointment of the old
man. Sadly he carried the little handful of gold flakes to Don Mario,
and then returned to the exhausted Rosendo.

All through the night the sick man tossed and moaned. By morning he
was delirious. Then Jose and Dona Maria became genuinely alarmed. The
toil and exposure had been too much for Rosendo at his advanced age.
In his delirium he talked brokenly of the swamps through which he had
floundered, for he had taken the trail in the wet season, and fully
half of its one hundred and fifty miles of length was oozy and all but
impassable bog.

By afternoon the fever had greatly increased. Don Mario shook his head
as he stood over him.

"I have seen many in that condition, Padre, and they didn't wake up!
If we had quinine, perhaps he might be saved. But there isn't a flake
in the town."

"Then send Juan to Bodega Central at once for it!" cried Jose, wild
with apprehension.

"I doubt if he would find it there either, Padre. But we can try.
However, Juan cannot make the trip in less than two days. And I fear
Rosendo will not last that long."

Dona Maria sat by the bedside, dumb with grief. Jose wrung his hands
in despair. The day drew slowly to a close. The Alcalde had dispatched
Juan down to the river to signal any steamer that he should meet, if
perchance he might purchase a few grains of the only drug that could
save th