Part 11 (1/2)

As their boat now moved gently along the water, Fernando's companions slept. All night they had labored, and they were weary. But Fernando could not sleep. Somehow his thoughts kept taking him to Seville, to his parents and his sister Maria. What had become of them?

In all these years he had heard no word from them, and until now, he had barely given them a thought. But tonight--How strange that they should creep into his mind!

A shot rang out hideously. The customs men were after them! Another shot! And another and another! One by one, the smugglers in the little boat crumpled where they sat. Then the small craft itself began to sink--down, down.

All was silent upon the surface of the water. All was silent for a long time, and then Fernando, holding to a floating board, slowly raised his head.

The morning had begun to dawn over the Spanish Pyrenees. A hoa.r.s.e church bell rang out. Fernando looked about him. The customs' men had gone back to France. The smugglers, too, had gone, but not to France; to the bottom of the river.

Fernando swam to sh.o.r.e, and the next day he set off for Seville. He had one aim: to find his family and to try to make up for the heartache he had caused them.

But Fernando was never to see his parents again. Long since the old people had died, and only his sister Maria remained. He found her living in a poor and squalid alley. Yet when he walked into her shabby room, she did not seem in the least surprised to see him.

”I knew that you would come back, Fernando,” she said quietly. ”I expected you.”

Puzzled, he started to speak, but she silenced him.

Then thrusting her hand inside her blouse, she drew out the magic castanets, saying, ”They were brought back to me, Fernando!”

Fernando stood fixed to the spot, his eyes upon the old clappers, which he had given away so many years ago in a fit of boyish rage. Then a sudden curious idea occurred to him.

”When were they returned to you?” he asked Maria.

She told him, and he knew then that it had been upon the very same night when his life had been spared, out there upon those dangerous waters--the very same night when he had been thinking so earnestly of his family.

His sister listened while he told her of his many adventures as a smuggler. He promised to give it all up, to help her, and to become an honest man.

”For,” he ended, laughing, ”there is an old Basque saying, 'If a smuggler is an honest man, then legends are the truth.'”

”But surely, Fernando,” said his sister, ”you must believe in the legends of the castanets after what has happened to us.”

Fernando shook his head.

”I believe only in the power for good,” he replied.

Some years later, Fernando had a little son of his own who danced in the cathedral of Seville. And do you see those two old people who sit there watching, solemn-eyed and happy?

They are Fernando and his wife, and they are very proud that their boy is taking his place in this age-old ceremony of their forefathers.

CHAPTER XII

PILAR'S GRANDFATHER REMEMBERS

After Pilar went out, her grandfather lay thinking. Somehow the old man felt better today. He did not fall asleep as soon as Pilar left the house.

He began to wonder where she had gone and why she had taken the castanets with her. He knew that she had been obliged to sell many of her mother's souvenirs, so that they might live. But he hoped that soon he would be able again to provide for his granddaughter and himself.