The courage of the man was magnificent. On its rebound it carried him over the protest of Doña Maria and the gloomy forebodings of his fellow-townsmen, and launched him again on the desolate trail.
But Josè had uttered no protest. He moved about wrapped in undefinable awe. For he believed he had seen Rosendo lifted from the bed of death. And no one might tell him that it was not by the same power that long ago had raised the dead man of Nain. Carmen had not spoken of the incident again; and something laid a restraint upon Josè’s lips.
The eyes of the Alcalde bulged with astonishment when Rosendo entered his store that morning in quest of further supplies.
“Caramba! Go back to your bed, compadre!” he exclaimed, bounding from his chair. “You are walking in your delirium!”
“Na, amigo,” replied Rosendo with a smile, “the fever has left me. And now I must have another month’s supplies, for I go back to Guamocó as soon as my legs tremble less.”
“Caramba! caramba!”
The Alcalde acted as if he were in the presence of a ghost. But at length becoming convinced that Rosendo was there on matters of business, and in his right mind, he checked further expression of wonder and, with a shrug of his fat shoulders, assumed his wonted air of a man of large affairs.
“I can allow you five pesos oro on account of the gold which the Cura brought me yesterday,” he said severely. “But that leaves you still owing ten pesos for your first supplies; and thirty if I give you what you ask for now. If you cannot pay this amount when you return, you will have to work it out for me.”
His little eyes grew steely and cold. Rosendo well knew what the threat implied. But he did not falter.