That night we slept in a kind of hovel made
of open poles with a roof of faggots through which the water dropped on
us, for it rained persistently for several hours. To be more accurate,
Emma slept, for my nerves were too shattered by the recollection of our
adventure with the brigands to allow me to close my eyes.
I could not rid my mind of the vision of that coach, broken like an
eggshell, and of those shattered shapes within it that this very morning
had been men full of life and plans, but who to-night were--what? Nor
was it easy to forget that but for the merest chance I might have been
one of their company wherever it was gathered now. To a man with a
constitutional objection to every form of violence, and, at any rate
in those days, no desire to search out the secrets of Death before his
time, the thought was horrible.
Leaving the shelter at dawn I found Antonio and the Indian who owned the
hut conversing together in the reeking mist with their _serapes_ thrown
across their mouths, which few Mexicans leave uncovered until after the
sun is up. Inflammation of the lungs is the disease they dread more than
any other, and the thin night air engenders it.
"What is it, Antonio?" I asked. "Are the brigands after us?"
"No, senor, hope brigands not come now.
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