Particularly was La Viga guarded. He knew that his fate now rested with
Benito Igarritos and his wife Juana, but he trusted them. The officer
was peremptory, but the bergantin was most innocent in appearance.
Merely a humble vegetable boat returning down La Viga after a successful
day in the city. "Your family?" Ned heard the officer say to Benito, as
he flashed the lantern in turn upon every one.
Taciturn, like most men of the oppressed races, Benito nodded, while his
wife sat silent in her great red and yellow reboso. Ned leaned
carelessly upon the oar, but his face was well hid by the sombrero, and
his heart was throbbing. When the light of the lantern passed over him
he felt as if he were seared by a flame, but the officer had no
suspicion, and with a gruff "Pass on" he withdrew from the bank with his
men. Benito nodded to Ned and they pulled again into the center of La
Viga. Neither spoke. Nor did the woman.
Ned bent on the oar with renewed strength. He felt that the greatest of
his dangers was now passed, and the relief of the spirit brought fresh
strength. The night lightened yet more. He saw on the low banks of the
canal green shrubs and many plants with spikes and thorns. It seemed to
him characteristic of Mexico that nearly everything should have its
spikes and thorns.
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