will you send her to her
father?" called some one.

"Yes, Don Mario, she must be taken to Padre Diego at once," piped a
woman's shrill voice.

"_Bien_," shouted the Alcalde, following his words with a long, coarse
laugh, "I was wise enough to know what you would decide, and sent the
girl down the river last night!"

CHAPTER 25

The candles and smoky oil lamps of Banco threw a fitful shimmer out
upon the great river, casting huge, spectral shadows across its muddy,
swirling waters, and seeming rather to intensify the blackness that
lay thick and menacing upon its restless bosom. Rivermen who follow
their hazardous calling along the Magdalena do not lightly risk the
dangers of travel by night in their native canoes, when at any moment
a false stroke, a sudden crash against a tossing forest tree, and a
cry through the inky blackness, might sound to the straining ears of
hushed listeners on the distant banks the elements of another of the
mighty river's grim nocturnal tragedies.

But on the night following the trial of Rosendo in distant Simiti a
canoe stole like a thing ashamed through the heavy shadows along the
river's margin, and poked its blunt nose into the ooze at the upper
edge of the town. Its two scantily clad _bogas_, steaming with
perspiration and flecked with mud from the charged waters, sprang
lightly from the frail craft and quickly made it fast to one of the
long stilts upon which a ramshackle frame house rested. Then they
assisted the third occupant of the canoe, a girl, to alight; and
together they wended their way up the slippery bank and toward the
town above.

"_Caramba_, _compadre_!" ejaculated one of the men, stumbling into a
deep rut, "it is well you know where we go. _Hombre_! but I travel no
more on the river by night. And, _compadre_, we had best ask Padre
Diego to offer a candle to the Virgin for our safe arrival, no?"

The other man chuckled. "To be sure, friend Julio. Don Diego has much
influence with virgins."

"_Hombre_! I like not his dirty work."

"_Bien, amigo_, what would you? You are well paid; and besides, you
score against that baby-faced priest, Jose, who drove you out of
Simiti because you were not married to your woman. You cannot
complain, _compadre_."

"_Caramba!_ I have yet to see the color of the _pesos_. I do not much
trust your Padre Diego."

"_Na, amigo_, a bit of rum will put new life into your soaked gizzard.
_Cierto_, this trip down the river was a