“You are her son?” he asked.
Basilio nodded his head.
“What are you going to do?”
“Bury her.”
“In the cemetery?”
“I have no money—if you would help me——”
“I am too weak,” said the man, sinking gradually to the ground. “I am wounded. For two days I have not eaten or slept. Has no one been here to-night?” And the man sat still, watching the child’s attractive face.
“Listen,” said he, in a voice growing feebler, “I too shall be dead before morning. Twenty paces from here, beyond the spring, is a pile of wood; put our two bodies on it, and light the fire.”
Basilio listened.
“Then, if nobody comes, you are to dig here; you will find a lot of gold, and it will be all yours. Study!”