But now rest!" He looked at me, and then from a little trickling spring he took water in a calabash no larger than an orange and from another vessel a white dust which he stirred into it, and made me drink.

I did not know what it was, but I went to sleep.
But that sleep did not refresh.

It was filled with heavy and dreadful dreams, and I woke with an aching head and a burning skin.

Juan Lepe who had nursed the sick down there in La Navidad knew feebly what it was.

He saw in a mist the naked priest, his friend and rescuer, seated upon the sandy floor regarding him with a wrinkled brow and compressed lips, and then he sank into fever visions uncouth and dreadful, or mirage-pleasing with a mirage-ecstasy.
Juan Lepe did not die, but he lay ill and like to die for two months.
It was deep in October, that day at dawn when I came quietly, evenly, to myself again, and lay most weak, but with seeing eyes.