(2/3) the Teeth of the Gale
“We meet Don Amador; a night in the cave; reappearance of Figaro Under the pine tree I was relieved to find Pedro still stretched out, breathing peacefully and regularly; his faint had turned to genuine slumber. When I touched him he responded drowsily. "Hmmm?" "Que tal, friend? How do you find yourself?" "Nada, nada. It is a trifle—except that my head aches like the Devil," he grumbled, rubbing it. I noticed that when he scrambled up he swayed, and had to grab a branch; which filled me with gre...at anxiety as to how, in this shaky state, he was going to manage the crossing of the rope bridge.
"Come," I said. "Lean on me. This is no spot in which to loiter." For the rain was now cataracting down, and jagged shafts of lightning every minute weirdly irradiated the castillo perched high above us on its crag. I had a notion that lightning might strike the cliff and bring down more masses of rock tumbling upon our heads.
And what about those poor children, immured up there in such a comfortless shelter, without food or "bedding?MoreLess
"Come," I said. "Lean on me. This is no spot in which to loiter." For the rain was now cataracting down, and jagged shafts of lightning every minute weirdly irradiated the castillo perched high above us on its crag. I had a notion that lightning might strike the cliff and bring down more masses of rock tumbling upon our heads.
And what about those poor children, immured up there in such a comfortless shelter, without food or "bedding?MoreLess
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