ers in height rose the confused
and complicated scaffolding. Four thick posts sunk in the ground
served as a frame, fastened to each other by huge timbers crossing
diagonally and joined by large nails driven in only half-way, perhaps
for the reason that the apparatus was simply for temporary use and
thus might easily be taken down again. Huge cables stretched from all
sides gave an appearance of solidity and grandeur to the whole. At
the top it was crowned with many-colored banners, streaming pennants,
and enormous garlands of flowers and leaves artistically interwoven.

There at the top in the shadow made by the posts, the garlands, and
the banners, hung fastened with cords and iron hooks an unusually
large three-wheeled pulley over the polished sides of which passed
in a crotch three cables even larger than the others. These held
suspended the smooth, massive stone hollowed out in the center
to form with a similar hole in the lower stone, already in place,
the little space intended to contain the records of contemporaneous
history, such as newspapers, manuscripts, money, medals, and the like,
and perhaps to transmit them to very remote generations. The cables
extended downward and connected with another equally large pulley
at the bottom of the apparatus, whence they passed to the drum of
a windlass held in place by means of heavy timbers. This windlass,
which could be turned with two cranks, increased the strength of a
man a hundredfold by the movement of notched wheels, although it is
true that what was gained in force was lost in velocity.

"Look," said the yellowish individual, turning the crank, "look,
Nor Juan, how with merely my own strength I can raise and lower the
great stone. It's so well arranged that at will I can regulate the
rise or fall inch by inch, so that a man in the trench can easily
fit the stones together while I manage it from here."

Nor Juan could not but gaze in admiration at the speaker, who was
smiling in his peculiar way. Curious bystanders made remarks praising
the yellowish individual.

"Who taught you mechanics?" asked Nor Juan.

"My father, my dead father," was the answer, accompanied by his
peculiar smile.

"Who taught your father?"

"Don Saturnino, the grandfather of Don Crisostomo."

"I didn't know that Don Saturnino--"

"Oh, he knew a lot of things! He not only beat his laborers well and
exposed them out in the sun, but he also knew how to wake the sleepers
and put the