"It's not lucky to empty the corral completely," she concluded.
Then they made their way toward the shore near the forest of old trees that belonged to Ibarra.

There in the shade by the clear waters of the brook, among the flowers, they ate their breakfast under improvised canopies.

The space was filled with music while the smoke from the fires curled up in slender wreaths.

The water bubbled cheerfully in the hot dishes as though uttering sounds of consolation, or perchance of sarcasm and irony, to the dead fishes.

The body of the cayman writhed about, sometimes showing its torn white belly and again its speckled greenish back, while man, Nature's favorite, went on his way undisturbed by what the Brahmins and vegetarians would call so many cases of fratricide..