Again we met low cliff, long stony
ledges sunk in the forest, invisible from below. I began
to see that they would not know how to follow. Caonabo
might know well the mountains of Cibao, but this sierra
that was straight behind Guarico, Guarico knew. It is a
blessed habit of their priests to go wandering in the forest,
making their medicine, learning the country, discovering,
using certain haunts for meditation. Sometimes they are
gone from their villages for days and weeks. None indeed
of these wild peoples fear reasonable solitude. Out of all
which comes the fact that Guarin knew this mountain. We
were not far, as flies the bird, from the burned town of
Guarico, from the sea without sail, from the ruined La
Navidad. When the dawn broke we saw ocean.
He took me straight to a cavern, such another as that in
which Jerez and Luis Torres and I had harbored in Cuba.
But this had fine sand for floor, and a row of calabashes,
and wood laid for fire.
Here Juan Lepe dropped, for all his head was swimming
with weariness.
The sun was up, the place glistered. Guarin showed how
it was hidden. "I found it when I was a boy, and none but
Guarin hath ever come here until you come, Juan Lepe!"
He had no fear, it was evident, of Caonabo's coming. "They
will think your idol helped you away. If they look for you,
it will be in the cloud.
Pages:
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243