when the moon’s new again, and you’ll have your little girl back-healthy.”
And he took the girl behind the frost-glass door.
Meanwhile the Black had led in the next patient, the old woman with a swollen leg.
The Indian made a low bow in the direction of the frost-glass door and went out.
In exactly twenty-eight days the frost-glass door was opened again.
The little girl, sporting a new dress, lively and apple-cheeked, appeared in the doorway. There was alarm in her eyes as she caught sight of her granddad. The Indian lunged forward, picked the girl up, smacked her a kiss and examined her throat. The tumour was gone. There was only a tiny reddish scar where the girl had been operated upon.
The child kept pushing her granddad away with her hands and had even cried out when, kissing her, he pricked her with his stubbly chin. He had to let her down. Salvator came in. There was a flicker of a smile on his face as he patted the child’s head and said:
“Here, take your child. You were only just in time bringing her. Another few hours and even I would not have been able to recall her to life.”
The lips in the Indian’s crinkled face quivered and tears came into his eyes. He gave the little girl another hug, then fell on his knees before Salvator.
“You saved my granddaughter’s life,” he said in a stifled voice. “A poor Indian has nothing but his own life to repay you with.”
“What do I want with your life?” wondered Salvator.
“I may be old but there’s strength in my arms yet,” the Indian went on, not rising from his knees. “I’ll take the little one to her mother-my daughter-and then come back. My life is now yours-for what you’ve done for me. I will serve you like a dog. Please don’t say no, I beg you.”
Salvator pondered.
He was chary of taking new servants. Not that he didn’t need any. There was much work to do. Help Jim with the gardening, for instance. Come to think of it, he did need a servant. He would have preferred a Black, to be sure, but this Indian fellow seemed all right…
“You make me a gift of your life. Very well. I accept it. When can you come?”
“I’ll be back before the first quarter’s over,” said the Indian, kissing the hem of Salvator’s smock.
“What is your name?”
“Cristobal, Cristo for short.”
“Go, Cristo. Ill be waiting for you.”
“Come on, my girlie,” Cristo said to the child and picked her up again. She started to cry. Cristo hurried away.
An Orchardful of Miracles
When Cristo turned up again a week later Dr. Salvator greeted him with a searching glance and said:
“Now then, Cristo, pay attention to what I’m going to tell you. I’m taking you on. You'll have good pay and board – ”
Cristo waved his hands.
“I don’t want anything so long as you let me serve you.”
“Be silent and listen,” Salvator cut him short. “You’U have everything as I said you would. But there’s one condition: keep your mouth shut about everything you see here.”
“I’d sooner cut my tongue out with my own hands and throw it to the dogs than breathe a single word to anybody.”
“See you don’t have to do that,” came Salvator’s warning. With that he summoned in the white-smocked Black and ordered him to take Cristo into the orchard and place him in Jim’s charge.
Bowing silently, the Black took the Indian outside and across the courtyard to the iron gate in the inner wall.
In response to the Black’s knock a barking of dogs came from behind the wall, then the gate creaked and opened slowly. The Black gave Cristo a light push, shouted something in throaty tones to the Black who stood inside the gate, and went away.
Cristo backed against the wall in fright. Charging at him were a pack of beasts with tawny black-spotted fur. Had they been in the pampas Cristo would not have hesitated in calling them jaguars. But these barked like dogs. Anyhow there was no time to puzzle it out. Cristo sprinted for the nearest tree and was up it with an agility surprising in a man of his age. The Black hissed at them, for all the world like an angry cobra, at once bringing them to. The beasts stopped their thunderous baying, lay down and put their muzzles on their forepaws, slanting their eyes up at their master.
The Black hissed again, this time to Cristo, and beckoned him to climb down.
“What’re you hissing there like a snake for? Swallowed your tongue,eh?”
The Black only gave an angry inarticulate sound. He must be dumb, Cristo thought and remembered Salvator’s warning. Does Salvator really cut out the tongues of those who betray his secrets? This poor blighter might be one of them. Sudden fear almost made Cristo lose his grip on the tree-trunk. He wished to God he were on the right side of the great wall again. With his eyes he measured the distance between his tree and the wall but saw he couldn’t make it. Meanwhile the Black had approached the tree, got hold of Cristo’s foot and was tugging at it impatiently. There was nothing for it but to take the hint. Cristo sprang down, grinned his most engaging smile, stretched out his hand and said amiably:
“Jim?”
The Black gave a nod.
Cristo pumped his hand. Once in hell, play up to the devils, he thought. Aloud he asked:
“Dumb?”
There was no answer.
“Got no tongue?”
Still no answer.
Even if he’s got no tongue, Cristo thought, he could at least talk in signs. Instead Jim took the Indian by hand, led him up to the tawny-skinned beasts and hissed something at them. The beasts rose, sniffed at Cristo and went calmly off. Cristo felt more at ease.
Then Jim led him on a round of the orchard.
After the bare stone-flagged yard the orchard looked a paradise of blossom and verdure. Stretching eastwards, it gently sloped down almost to the very shoreline. Narrow alleys strewn with finely crushed bluish-green agaves and yellowish-green flowers criss-crossed it between groves of peach and olive trees. These gave shade to lush grass-its deep green broken here and there by little white-stone ponds and beds of bright many-coloured flowers. A few fountains were sending high their jets of sparkling water to lend freshness to the air.
The orchard vibrated with the singing of birds and the roaring of beasts.
Never in his life had Cristo seen the strange birds and animals that met his eye at every turn.
A six-legged lizard scuttled across the path, its greenish skin coppery in the bright sun. A double-headed snake was hanging from a tree, making Cristo jump as it hissed at him with its two throats. A still louder hiss from the Black, however, silenced it; dropping from the tree it disappeared among a border of rushes. Another long snake hurried away from the path where it had been basking, helping
