here is a job there. He doesn't belong in this country. And Simiti
will finish him."

"Bah! only another priest less--and a weak-kneed one at that," said
Don Jorge with contempt; "and we have too many of them now, Lord
knows!"

"You forget that I am a priest," chuckled Diego.

"You! Yes, so you are," laughed Don Jorge; "but of the diocese of
hell! Well, we're off. I'll send a runner down the trail when I reach
the Tigui river; and if you will have a letter in Simiti informing me
of the status of things political, he can bring it up. _Conque_,
_adios_, my consummate villain."

The Honda, whistling prodigiously, swung out into mid-stream and set
her course up-river, warily feeling through the velvety darkness for
the uncertain channel. Once she grated over a hidden bar and hung for
a few moments, while her stack vomited torrents of sparks and her
great wheel angrily churned the water into creamy foam in the clear
moonlight. Once, rounding a sharp bend, she collided squarely with a
huge mahogany tree, rolling and plunging menacingly in the seaward
rushing waters.

"_Diablo!_" muttered Don Jorge, as he helped Jose swing his hammock
and adjust the mosquito netting. "I shall offer a candle a foot thick
to the blessed Virgin if I reach Puerto Berrio safely! _Santo Dios!_"
as the boat grazed another sand bar. "I've heard tell of steamers
hanging up on bars in this river for six weeks! And look!" pointing to
the projecting smoke-stack of a sunken steamer. "_Caramba!_ That is
what we just escaped!"

But Jose manifested slight interest in the dangers of river
navigation. His thoughts were revolving about the incidents of the
past few days, and, more especially, about Padre Diego and his
significant words. Don Jorge had volunteered no further explanation of
the man or his conversation; and Jose's reticence would not permit him
to make other inquiry. But, after all, his thought-processes always
evolved the same conclusion: What mattered it now? His interest in
life was at an end. He had not told Don Jorge of his experience with
the leper in Maganguey. He was trying to forget it. But his hand ached
cruelly; and the pain was always associated with loathsome and
repellant thoughts of the event.

* * * * *

The eastern sky was blushing at the approach of the amorous sun when
Jose left his hammock and prepared to endure another day on the river.
To the south the deep blue vault of heav