"This is Bustamente the Notary," the shepherd said.

Bustamente fingered his gla.s.ses. "Yes," he said, alive to the importance of the moment. "I am the Notary." He squinted down his nose at the two men.

"Major Diego Segador, of the Republic. And this is my colleague, Major Angel Blanco, of the Cuban Army."

"They fell from the sky," the shepherd said. "Like fifth columnists."

"Is that true, Your Eminences?" Bustamente the Notary was taking no chances.

"It is true."

"And you have papers?"

"We have papers. Mine are in here. And yours, Major Blanco?"

The Notary adjusted his gla.s.ses, turned to the papers while the shepherd's wife held a candle over them. "Ay," he said. "They look real.

Yes, I must admit they look real. On the other hand, I must also admit that I have never seen real Cuban papers." This was indeed a problem for the Notary. He scratched his chin, importantly, cleared his throat with a rumbling hawk. "What do you think, Juan Antonio?"

"I am without letters," the shepherd said.

"I must admit," the Notary said, not without sadness, "I must admit that I have never seen real papers of our own army."

"Please," Segador said, "it is important that we get to San Hermano. Is there anyone in this village who is not for the landowners or the mine owners or the Germans who has seen real papers? I ask this in the name of Don Anibal Tabio, in whose name we undertook our mission."

"Justice will be done," said Bustamente the Notary. "This is the era of justice, my good friends." He tried to punctuate his p.r.o.nouncement with Tabio's famous gesture. To do this he had to release his waistband, and his trousers started to fall to his knees. From the pallet came a choking snicker.

"Silence!" Juan Antonio hissed to the kids on the dark pallet. "Show respect for Bustamente the Notary." His wife, at the same time, restored the Notary's dignity by handing him a length of cord to use as a belt.

He fixed his trousers and then made the moment truly solemn by putting on his jacket.

"I am sure the Notary will dispense the justice of the Republic," the shepherd said.

"_Hombre!_ This is very serious," Bustamente the Notary whispered. It was a loud stage whisper. "We must consider our decision with careful seriousness, Juan Antonio." He stepped outside of the hut.

Hall could hear his discussion with the shepherd. "The one who claims to be of us," the Notary said, "he does not talk like an enemy of Don Anibal, Mayhissoulrestinpeace. How does the other talk?"

"I do not know. He tried to speak in Euzkadi. It is not his tongue."

"It is, in a sense, suspicious then. But we must not be hasty. Justice begins in the village." The phrase was Tabio's.

"What are we to do, Senor Notary?"

"The laws of the Const.i.tution of the Republic guarantee justice to all suspects, Juan Antonio. Please tell me all you know about the two officers."

He listened to the simple recital of the facts. "Ay, it is as I have observed, _amigo_. There is much to be said on both sides. If they were Germans or fifth columnists, perhaps they would have shot you first. On the other hand, since neither of us has ever seen a Cuban uniform, how can we tell? And if they are ours, why did they drop from the sky into the middle of a flock of sheep?"

"It is very deep, Senor Notary."

"Let us talk softer, Juan Antonio. Perhaps they can hear us inside."

They moved farther from the doorway, conversed in whispers for a few minutes, and then they started to walk down the dirt street of the village. Hall and Segador sat patiently, without exchanging a word.

Once, while they waited for the shepherd and the Notary, Segador told Hall with a look that he thought everything was going to be all right.

Then the two villagers returned with two horses and two donkeys.

"We have decided," said Bustamente the Notary, "that in the interests of full justice we must take you to see the school teacher in Puente Bajo.

He will know what to do."

Segador sighed with relief. "Thank you, Senor Notary," he said. "And thank you, _Companero_ Shepherd. I am certain that your decision is the wisest one could make, and that we shall receive ample justice from the school teacher of Puente Bajo. But tell me, how far is the village from here?"

"It is less than five miles, Major."

"I am content."

The shepherd undid the cord that connected the bound hands of Hall and Segador and, because their hands were still tied behind their backs, he helped them mount the donkeys. He and the Notary climbed into the wooden saddles of their small horses, fastening the donkeys' leads to their pommels.

Segador smiled at Hall, whose donkey was being led by the shepherd.

"Wonderful," he said. "Sancho leads the n.o.ble Don home from an encounter with the sheep."

"Please, gentlemen," Bustamente the Notary said, sharply, "you are not to address one another. Justice begins in the village, and justice"--again he aped Don Anibal's gesture--"and justice will be done."

"We bow to your authority in matters of justice," Segador said, gravely.

He and Hall sat in silence as the convoy cut across a meadow on the slope and turned toward the outlines of a larger village in the valley.

They jogged toward the dim yellow lights of Puente Bajo, the shepherd piercing the night quiet with the curses he flung at the heads of the donkeys every time they balked.

At the outskirts of the town, Bustamente the Notary ordered a halt. "I have been thinking," he said. "It is my feeling that if the two on the donkeys are of the Republic and innocent, then we will have committed an offense against their sacred dignity if we lead them into Puente Bajo fettered on mangy donkeys. I have therefore come to the conclusion that perhaps it would be better for me to ride on alone to the school and bring the teacher back to meet us here, by the road."

"I can agree," the shepherd said. "But wait until I tether their donkeys." He dismounted, led the donkeys to the side of the road and tied their forefeet to lengths of rope he fastened to a strong tree.

"Would you want one of your own cigarettes?" he asked Hall.

"Yes. Many thanks. And one for Major Segador, too. And please take one for yourself."

The shepherd declined with a serious face. "First," he said, "I must hear what the school teacher has to say about you. He is wiser, even, than Bustamente the Notary."

Bustamente the Notary and the man who was acknowledged to be even of more wisdom than he returned out of breath; the school teacher from trotting after the short horse and the Notary from talking incessantly to the pedagogue. The teacher was a compact mestizo in his early twenties, a short youth with a furrowed sloping Indian forehead and bright beady black eyes. He was wearing a pair of brown-cotton trousers, a blue shirt without a tie, and rope-soled slippers.

"Are you truly Major Segador?" he asked. And then, without waiting for the answer, he turned to the shepherd and began to berate him. "You fool," he shouted, "untie his bonds at once. Do you know that he sat in El Moro with Don Anibal?"

"I am without learning," the shepherd said.

"It is all right, teacher," Segador said. "The _companero_ did his duty--and he did it properly. Undo my hand, Juan Antonio, so that I may shake your hand."

"I am sorry, _companero_," the school teacher said to the shepherd. "I spoke to you without thinking."

"What is your name, teacher?"

"I am called Pablo Artigas." He helped Hall and Segador get off the donkeys. "I regret that you have had so much grief in our province."