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Chapter 8

           Iuntiedoneofthesmallboatsandpulledmyselfoutoftheharbourwithnothingbutthreecigarsinmypockettohelpmespendthedayonthisisland.Butthewaterofthisrivuletyouhearunderyourfeetiscoolandsweetandgood,senor,bothbeforeandafterasmoke.”Hewassilentforawhile,thenaddedreflectively,“ThatwasthefirstSundayafterIbroughtdownthewhite-whiskeredEnglishricoallthewaydownthemountainsfromtheParamoonthetopoftheEntradaPassandinthecoach,too!Nocoachhadgoneupordownthatmountainroadwithinthememoryofman,senor,tillIbroughtthisonedowninchargeoffiftypeonsworkinglikeonemanwithropes,pickaxes,andpolesundermydirection.ThatwastherichEnglishmanwho,aspeoplesay,paysforthemakingofthisrailway.Hewasverypleasedwithme.Butmywageswerenotduetilltheendofthemonth.”

           Hesliddownthebanksuddenly.Decoudheardthesplashofhisfeetinthebrookandfollowedhisfootstepsdowntheravine.Hisformwaslostamongthebushestillhehadreachedthestripofsandunderthecliff.Asoftenhappensinthegulfwhentheshowersduringthefirstpartofthenighthadbeenfrequentandheavy,thedarknesshadthinnedconsiderablytowardsthemorningthoughtherewerenosignsofdaylightasyet.

           Thecargo-lighter,relievedofitspreciousburden,rockedfeebly,half-afloat,withherfore-footonthesand.

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