Part 49 (2/2)

”Santa Ana!” murmured Ibarra. ”Do you recognize that house?”

They pa.s.sed by the country house of the Jesuits.

”There I pa.s.sed many happy and joyful years!” sighed Elias. ”In my time we used to come here every month ... then I was like the others. I had fortune, family; I was dreaming and planning a future for myself. In those days I used to visit my sister in the neighboring convent. She made me a present of a piece of her own handiwork. A girl friend used to accompany her, a beautiful girl. All has pa.s.sed like a dream.”

They remained silent till they arrived at Malapad-na-bato. Those who have glided over the bosom of the Pasig on one of those magical nights when the moon pours forth its melancholy poetry from the pure blue of the sky, when the darkness hides the misery of men and silence drowns the harsh accents of their voices, when Nature alone speaks--those who have seen such nights on the Pasig will understand the feelings which filled the hearts of both young men.

In Malapad-na-bato the carbineer was half asleep, and, seeing that the banca was empty and offered no booty for him to seize, according to the traditional custom of his corps and the use made of that position, he readily let them pa.s.s on.

Nor did the Civil Guard at Pasig suspect anything, and they were not molested.

It was just beginning to dawn when they reached the lake, calm and smooth as a gigantic mirror. The moon was growing dim and the Orient was rosy with the tints of morning. At a distance, a ma.s.s of grey could be discerned advancing toward the banca.

”The falua (or Government steamboat) is coming,” murmured Elias. ”Lie down and I will cover you with these sacks.”

The outline of the vessel became more clear and perceptible.

”She is putting in between the beach and us,” observed Elias uneasily.

And then he changed the course of the banca a little, rowing toward Binangonan. To his great surprise he noticed that the falua was also changing its course, while a voice cried out to him.

Elias stopped and meditated. The sh.o.r.e of the lake was very far off, and they would soon be in the range of the rifles on the falua. He thought of returning to the Pasig. His banca was swifter than the falua. But fate was against him! Another boat was coming up the Pasig, and they could see the helmets and s.h.i.+ning bayonets of the Civil Guards.

”We are caught!” he murmured, turning pale.

He looked at his robust arms and taking the only course which remained to him, he began to row with all his strength toward the Island of Talim. In the meantime, the sun had risen.

The banca glided along rapidly. Elias saw some men standing up on the falua, making signals to him.

”Do you know how to manage a banca?” he asked Ibarra.

”Yes; why?”

”Because we are lost if I do not leap into the water and make them lose the trail. They will follow me. I swim and dive well.... I will take them away from you, and then you can save yourself.”

”No; you remain and we will sell our lives dearly.”

”Useless! We have no arms, and with those rifles they will kill us like birds.”

At that moment a chiss was heard in the water like the fall of a hot body, and was followed immediately by a report.

”Do you see?” said Elias, putting his paddle in the banca. ”We will see each other again at the tomb of your grandfather on Nochebeuna (Christmas eve.) Save yourself.”

”And you?”

”G.o.d has taken me through greater dangers.”

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