“The crocodile pulled her under the water, Padre, and she was drowned. But he did not eat her; and we got her body and buried her here in the cemetery. We were very grateful.”
Sancta simplicitas! That such childish credulity might be turned into proper channels!
But there were times when fish were scarce in the lake. Then the crocodiles became bold; and many babes had been seized and dragged off by them, never to return. The fishing this season had been very poor. And more than one fisherman had asked Josè to invoke the Virgin in his behalf.
Nearer crept the monster toward the unsuspecting girl. Suddenly she turned and looked squarely at it. She might almost have touched it with her hand. For Josè it was one of those crises that “crowd eternity into an hour.” The child and the reptile might have been painted against that wondrous tropic background. The great brute stood bolt upright on its squat legs, its hideous jaws partly open. The girl made no motion, but seemed to hold it with her steady gaze. Then––the creature dropped; its jaws snapped shut; and it scampered into the water.
“God above!” cried Josè, as he rushed to the girl and clasped her in his arms. “Forgive me if I ever doubted the miracles of Jesus!”
Doña Maria turned and quietly resumed her work; but the man was completely unstrung.
“What is it, Padre?” Carmen asked in unfeigned surprise. “I am not afraid of crocodiles––are you? You couldn’t be, if you knew that God is everywhere.”
“But don’t you know, child, that crocodiles have carried off––”
He checked himself. No––he would not say it. He had had his lesson.
“What, Padre?”