hey had acquired, and that
for all his mental incoherency and stumbling behaviour he must have
courage and do his best to learn, and at that all the people in the
door-way murmured encouragingly. He said the night--for the blind
call their day night--was now far gone, and it behooved everyone to
go back to sleep. He asked Nunez if he knew how to sleep, and
Nunez said he did, but that before sleep he wanted food. They
brought him food, llama's milk in a bowl and rough salted bread,
and led him into a lonely place to eat out of their hearing, and
afterwards to slumber until the chill of the mountain evening
roused them to begin their day again. But Nunez slumbered not at
all.

Instead, he sat up in the place where they had left him,
resting his limbs and turning the unanticipated circumstances of
his arrival over and over in his mind.

Every now and then he laughed, sometimes with amusement and
sometimes with indignation.

"Unformed mind!" he said. "Got no senses yet! They little
know they've been insulting their Heaven-sent King and master . .
. . .

"I see I must bring them to reason.

"Let me think.

"Let me think."

He was still thinking when the sun set.

Nunez had an eye for all beautiful things, and it seemed to
him that the glow upon the snow-fields and glaciers that rose about
the valley on every side was the most beautiful thing he had ever
seen. His eyes went from that inaccessible glory to the village
and irrigated fields, fast sinking into the twilight, and suddenly
a wave of emotion took him, and he thanked God from the bottom of
his heart that the power of sight had been given him.

He heard a voice calling to him from out of the village.

"Yaho there, Bogota! Come hither!"

At that he stood up, smiling. He would show these people once
and for all what sight would do for a man. They would seek him,
but not find him.

"You move not, Bogota," said the voice.

He laughed noiselessly and made two stealthy steps aside from
the path.

"Trample not on the grass, Bogota; that is not allowed."

Nunez had scarcely heard the sound he made himself. He
stopped, amazed.

The owner of the voice came running up the piebald path
towards him.

He stepped back into the pathway. "Here I am," he said.

"Why did you not come when I called you?" said the blind man.
"Must you be led like a child? Cannot you hear the path as you
walk?"

Nunez laughed. "I can see it," he said.

"There is