“Don Frederico must know many remedies, but he does not know that one which never misses its effect,” said the shepherd.
“If you know it, have the extreme kindness to inform me of it,” replied Stein.
“I am unable to tell you,” replied the shepherd. “I know that it exists, and that is all.”
“Who knows it then?” demanded Stein.
“The swallows,” said José.
“The swallows?”
“Yes, sir. It is an herb which is called pito-real, which nobody sees or knows except the swallows: when their little ones lose their sight they rub their eyes with the pito-real, and cure them. This herb has also the virtue to cut iron—every thing it touches.”
“What absurdities this José swallows without chewing, like a real shark!” interrupted Manuel laughing. “Don Frederico, do you comprehend what he said and believes as an article of faith? He believes and says that snakes never die.”
“No, they never die,” replied the shepherd. “When they see death coming they escape from their skin, and run away. With age they become serpents; little by little they are covered with scales and wings: they become dragons, and return to the desert. But you, Manuel, you do not wish to believe any thing. Do you deny also that the lizard is the enemy of the woman, and the friend of man? If you do not believe it, ask then of Miguel.”
“He knows it?”