sparkling and
his head uncovered. Upon seeing him, many laughed, while a number of
the women knit their eyebrows in scorn. The old man seemed to take
no notice of these manifestations, but went directly toward a pile
of skulls, knelt down and began to search among the bones. After he
had sorted over with considerable care the skulls one by one, he drew
his eyebrows together, as though he did not find what he was looking
for, moved his head from side to side, looked in all directions,
and finally got up and went over toward a grave-digger.

"Eh, there!" he shouted to him.

The grave-digger raised his head.

"Do you know where that beautiful skull is, the one white as the meat
of a cocoanut, with a complete set of teeth, which I had over there
at the foot of the cross under those leaves?"

The grave-digger shrugged his shoulders.

"Look you!" added the little old man, bringing out of his pocket a
handful of silver. "I have more than that, but I will give it to you
if you find the skull for me."

The glitter of the coin made the grave-digger reflect. He looked
over in the direction of the bone pile and said: "Isn't it over
there? No? Then I don't know where it is."

"Don't you know? When my debtors pay me, I will give you more,"
continued the old man. "It was my wife's skull, and if you find it
for me----"

"Isn't it there. Then I don't know where it is," repeated the
grave-digger with emphasis. "But I will give you another."

"You are like the grave that you are digging," cried the old man
irritably. "You don't know the value of what you lose. For whom is
this grave?"

"For a dead person, of course," replied the bad-humored man.

"Like a tomb! Like a tomb!" repeated the old man dryly. "You don't
know what you throw out nor what you swallow. Dig! dig!"

At this the old man, who was Tasio, the village philosopher, turned
and started toward the gate.

In the meantime, the grave-digger had finished his job, and two
little mounds of fresh, red clay were piled on either side of the
grave. He took some betel nut out of his broad-brimmed hat, and began
to chew away, looking with an air of stupidity at everything within
his horizon.

CHAPTER VIII

IBARRA AND THE GRAVE-DIGGER.

Just as the old man was leaving the cemetery, a carriage stopped at the
entrance. It looked as though it had made a long journey; the horses
were sweating and the vehicle was covered with dust. Ibarra stepped out
and was fo