Nostromo - A Tale of the Seaboard.pdf - Planet eBook

I was in love with. Poor Teresa could never understand that.On that particular Sunday, senor, she scolded so that I wentout of the house swearing that I would never darken theirdoor again unless to fetch away my hammock and my chestof clothes. Senor, there is nothing more exasperating thanto hear a woman you respect rail against your good reputationwhen you have not a single brass coin in your pocket. Iuntied one of the small boats and pulled myself out of theharbour with nothing but three cigars in my pocket to helpme spend the day on this island. But the water of this rivuletyou hear under your feet is cool and sweet and good,senor, both before and after a smoke.’ He was silent for awhile, then added reflectively, ‘That was the first Sunday afterI brought down the white-whiskered English rico all theway down the mountains from the Paramo on the top of theEntrada Pass—and in the coach, too! No coach had gone upor down that mountain road within the memory of man,senor, till I brought this one down in charge of fifty peonsworking like one man with ropes, pickaxes, and poles undermy direction. That was the rich Englishman who, as peoplesay, pays for the making of this railway. He was verypleased with me. But my wages were not due till the end ofthe month.’He slid down the bank suddenly. Decoud heard thesplash of his feet in the brook and followed his footstepsdown the ravine. His form was lost among the bushes tillhe had reached the strip of sand under the cliff. As oftenhappens in the gulf when the showers during the first partof the night had been frequent and heavy, the darkness had