At the approach of the bankas the herons took to flight, and Maria Clara followed them with her gaze as they flew in the direction of the neighboring mountain.
"Do those birds build their nests on the mountain ?" she asked the pilot, not so much from a desire to know as for the purpose of making him talk.
"Probably they do, senora," he answered, "but no one up to this time has ever seen their nests." "Don't they have nests ?" "I suppose they must have them, otherwise they would be very unfortunate." Maria Clara did not notice the tone of sadness with which he uttered these words.

"Then--" "It is said, senora," answered the strange youth, "that the nests of those birds are invisible and that they have the power of rendering invisible any one who possesses one of them.

Just as the soul can only be seen in the pure mirror of the eyes, so also in the mirror of the water alone can their nests be looked upon." Maria Clara became sad and thoughtful.

Meanwhile, they had reached the first fish-corral and an aged boatman tied the craft to a post.
"Wait!" called Aunt Isabel to the son of the fisherman, who was getting ready to climb upon the platform of the corral with his _panalok_, or fish-net fastened on the end of a stout bamboo pole.

"We must get the _sinigang_ ready so that the fish may pass at once from the water into the soup." "Kind Aunt Isabel!" exclaimed the ex-theological student.