Pilar thought Pepe himself looked like the Rock of Gibraltar. She had seen pictures of the great, solid rock. It belongs to England, and just across Gibraltar Bay is the lazy little Spanish seaport town of Algeciras.
Pilar usually liked to listen to Pepe's tales of his travels. The boy's father often took him away to places where they saw interesting and curious sights.
| GIBRALTAR |
But today it was impossible to pay attention. She tried to get away from Pepe and walked faster and faster.
He followed doggedly, breaking into a gallop and crying out in little gasps, "Hi! But listen, Pilar."
And so eager was he to reach her that he did not notice where he was going, and all of a sudden—pff! bang! He had crashed into a man wearing what looked like a ballet skirt of tin cans. They were milk cans.
They shot in all directions. The man began to scold Pepe and to wave his arms about. A crowd gathered, and in the noise and excitement, Pilar escaped from her stout little sweetheart.
Seville's great cathedral was just across the street—a massive giant, squatting in the sun. Pilar went inside. It was cool and peaceful there. Works of art filled the vast church—paintings, fine carvings, and the stately tomb of Christopher Columbus.
Pilar knelt before the altar, where a curious ceremony takes place every year. This ceremony is called "The Dance of the Six Boys."
Pilar prayed, her eyes closed, her lips moving. And clasped to her heart were the castanets—the magic castanets, about which another legend was woven—a legend around this very Dance of the Six.