bridge. After a few paces she stopped. In utter despair she let her head drop. Slowly her arms glided down her body until they dangled lifelessly. She turned away from the bridge and with heavily dragging feet she came back to our group.
Old man Garcia was standing with us, and not knowing what better he could do, he began rolling a cigarette.
'Carlos! Carlosito! Carluchito!' Now from this direction, then from that, sometimes nearer, sometimes far away, Manuel's strong voice could be heard calling his kid brother.
Only the jungle answered with its whining.
The boys, spurred by Manuel's anxious search, formed half a dozen groups of two and three and scattered in all directions. Soon from everywhere one heard 'Carlosito!' After each call there was silence for a few seconds so that little Carlos might have his chance to answer, were it ever so faintly. It seemed that even the jungle fell silent for a moment as if it wanted to help save a little child.
11
'Senora! Senora Garcia! Senora Garcia!' The bright and jubilant voices of two boys broke the monotony of the calling of the child's name. These young voices freshened up the heavy atmosphere like a cool breeze wiping the depressing glow off a treeless plain at the height of a midsummer day. And again those animated and exultant voices blared through the night like the cornets of a military band. Running like devils, the two boys, shouting and yelling all the time, were now crossing the bridge.
'Well, well! Now, there, there! There is the boy at last,' the pump-master woman cried out, and blew a deep sigh of relief. 'Haven't I said a hundred times that a healthy boy like him can't get lost? Well, thanks to heaven, that's all over now! "
All faces lost their funny distortions and became ordinary human faces again. Hurriedly uttered words were flying about all groups. Everybody wished to say something very quickly and wanted to confirm that he had said so long before. Some even went so far as to boast that they had known all the time where the boy had been hidden.
A few youngsters and girls left the centre of the square, bored now with all that noise about nothing. It was pure nonsense, the whole excitement was, for how could it be possible that a boy would disappear with a hundred people around?
The Garcia swallowed something which had been in her throat for a long time. Then she licked her dried lips. After this she took a deep breath as if she had not breathed for an hour. Somehow, though, she was not fully taken in by the joy of relief shown by all the others. There was hope rising in her soul, but doubt remained the stronger emotion within her. So hard had she worked her mind into the certainty that her boy was lost that now she had some difficulty in giving her thoughts a new direction. She was perhaps not clear as to her true feelings at this moment. Yet deep in her heart there was something in which her doubts found nourishment. One could read it from her eyes, in which doubt and suspicion mingled with bits of hope and a slight expectation of the best.
The two boys arrived at our group. Breathlessly they said: 'Senora Garcia, you are looking for your chiquito, for your little Carlos, aren't you, senora?'
'Yes, yes, of course, she is. We all have been looking for him a long time.' It was not the Garcia who answered the boys; it was other women in our group who pressed the boys for a quick report. 'Well, where is he? Come, come! Out with it.'
The Garcia was staring at these two boys as if they had come from another world.
'Carlos has ridden to Tlalcozautitlan, that's where he has gone,' the elder of the two boys said, stumbling over his own words, so hurriedly and breathlessly were they spoken.
'Yes, that's true,' confirmed the younger one, 'that's absolutely true, Senora Garcia, cross my heart and soul.'
'Well then, everything is all right now,' the pump-master woman said, slapping the Garcia on her shoulders in a neighbourly way.
'Didn't I say so long ago?'
Old man Garcia was standing with us, and not knowing what better he could do, he began rolling a cigarette.
'Carlos! Carlosito! Carluchito!' Now from this direction, then from that, sometimes nearer, sometimes far away, Manuel's strong voice could be heard calling his kid brother.
Only the jungle answered with its whining.
The boys, spurred by Manuel's anxious search, formed half a dozen groups of two and three and scattered in all directions. Soon from everywhere one heard 'Carlosito!' After each call there was silence for a few seconds so that little Carlos might have his chance to answer, were it ever so faintly. It seemed that even the jungle fell silent for a moment as if it wanted to help save a little child.
11
'Senora! Senora Garcia! Senora Garcia!' The bright and jubilant voices of two boys broke the monotony of the calling of the child's name. These young voices freshened up the heavy atmosphere like a cool breeze wiping the depressing glow off a treeless plain at the height of a midsummer day. And again those animated and exultant voices blared through the night like the cornets of a military band. Running like devils, the two boys, shouting and yelling all the time, were now crossing the bridge.
'Well, well! Now, there, there! There is the boy at last,' the pump-master woman cried out, and blew a deep sigh of relief. 'Haven't I said a hundred times that a healthy boy like him can't get lost? Well, thanks to heaven, that's all over now! "
All faces lost their funny distortions and became ordinary human faces again. Hurriedly uttered words were flying about all groups. Everybody wished to say something very quickly and wanted to confirm that he had said so long before. Some even went so far as to boast that they had known all the time where the boy had been hidden.
A few youngsters and girls left the centre of the square, bored now with all that noise about nothing. It was pure nonsense, the whole excitement was, for how could it be possible that a boy would disappear with a hundred people around?
The Garcia swallowed something which had been in her throat for a long time. Then she licked her dried lips. After this she took a deep breath as if she had not breathed for an hour. Somehow, though, she was not fully taken in by the joy of relief shown by all the others. There was hope rising in her soul, but doubt remained the stronger emotion within her. So hard had she worked her mind into the certainty that her boy was lost that now she had some difficulty in giving her thoughts a new direction. She was perhaps not clear as to her true feelings at this moment. Yet deep in her heart there was something in which her doubts found nourishment. One could read it from her eyes, in which doubt and suspicion mingled with bits of hope and a slight expectation of the best.
The two boys arrived at our group. Breathlessly they said: 'Senora Garcia, you are looking for your chiquito, for your little Carlos, aren't you, senora?'
'Yes, yes, of course, she is. We all have been looking for him a long time.' It was not the Garcia who answered the boys; it was other women in our group who pressed the boys for a quick report. 'Well, where is he? Come, come! Out with it.'
The Garcia was staring at these two boys as if they had come from another world.
'Carlos has ridden to Tlalcozautitlan, that's where he has gone,' the elder of the two boys said, stumbling over his own words, so hurriedly and breathlessly were they spoken.
'Yes, that's true,' confirmed the younger one, 'that's absolutely true, Senora Garcia, cross my heart and soul.'
'Well then, everything is all right now,' the pump-master woman said, slapping the Garcia on her shoulders in a neighbourly way.
'Didn't I say so long ago?'
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