I tell you I
repented of my sins. Some of the men laughed at me when I told
them, as they had laughed at the others. But last night two of the
doubters went up there."
"Exactly. And they saw nothing."
"Your pardon, my Colonel. They came back in a cold sweat, and they
spent the night on their knees. The woman was there again. You
have seen the salt sea at night? Well, her face was aglow, like
that, so they said. They heard the clanking of chains, too, and
the sound of hammers, coming from the very bowels of the earth. It
is all plain enough, when you know the story. But it is
terrifying."
"This is indeed amazing," Cobo acknowledged, "but of course there
is some simple explanation. Spirits, if indeed there are such
things, are made of nothing--they are like thin air. How, then,
could they rattle chains? You probably saw some wretched pacificos
in search of food and imagined the rest."
"Indeed! Then what did I hear with these very ears? Whispers,
murmurs, groans, and the clinkety-clink of old Sebastian's chisel.
For his sins that old slave is chained in some cavern of the
mountain. Soundless! I'm no baby! I know when I'm asleep, and I
know when I'm awake. That place is accursed, and I want no more of
it."
Cobo fell into frowning meditation, allowing his cigarette to
smolder down until it burned his thick fingers.
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