ed one.

"Down out of the rocks."

"Over the mountains I come," said Nunez, "out of the country
beyond there--where men can see. From near Bogota--where there are
a hundred thousands of people, and where the city passes out of
sight."

"Sight?" muttered Pedro. "Sight?"

"He comes," said the second blind man, "out of the rocks."

The cloth of their coats, Nunez saw was curious fashioned,
each with a different sort of stitching.

They startled him by a simultaneous movement towards him, each
with a hand outstretched. He stepped back from the advance of
these spread fingers.

"Come hither," said the third blind man, following his motion
and clutching him neatly.

And they held Nunez and felt him over, saying no word further
until they had done so.

"Carefully," he cried, with a finger in his eye, and found
they thought that organ, with its fluttering lids, a queer thing in
him. They went over it again.

"A strange creature, Correa," said the one called Pedro.
"Feel the coarseness of his hair. Like a llama's hair."

"Rough he is as the rocks that begot him," said Correa,
investigating Nunez's unshaven chin with a soft and slightly moist
hand. "Perhaps he will grow finer."

Nunez struggled a little under their examination, but they
gripped him firm.

"Carefully," he said again.

"He speaks," said the third man. "Certainly he is a man."

"Ugh!" said Pedro, at the roughness of his coat.

"And you have come into the world?" asked Pedro.

"_Out_ of the world. Over mountains and glaciers; right
over above there, half-way to the sun. Out of the great, big world
that goes down, twelve days' journey to the sea."

They scarcely seemed to heed him. "Our fathers have told us
men may be made by the forces of Nature," said Correa. "It is the
warmth of things, and moisture, and rottenness--rottenness."

"Let us lead him to the elders," said Pedro.

"Shout first," said Correa, "lest the children be afraid.
This is a marvellous occasion."

So they shouted, and Pedro went first and took Nunez by the
hand to lead him to the houses.

He drew his hand away. "I can see," he said.

"See?" said Correa.

"Yes; see," said Nunez, turning towards him, and stumbled
against Pedro's pail.

"His senses are still imperfect," said the third blind man.
"He stumbles, and talks unmeaning words. Lead him by the hand."

"As you will," said Nunez, and was led along laughing.

It seemed they knew nothing of sight