He decided to betray.
On the eve of the election, Fidencio commissioned him to bring an important paper from the city for the counting up of votes. Don't know what it was. A paper. The word "paper," said in a mysterious tone, means "something." . . . .
I know nothing of elections. I couldn't say positively if a "paper" that isn't just paper has the power to decide, these social ills. All I know is that everything depended on the "paper," so much so that Biriba's mission was a secret one. Fidencio emphasized the importance of the commission—the greatest proof of confidence ever given by him to any electoral pawn.
"Take care! Our fate is in your hands. There's confidence for you, hey?"
Biriba set out; he received the paper and started to return. Half way he took a side path which led to an old negro's hut. He loosened the mare and began to talk with the gorilla. Night fell and Biriba remained where he was. The next day dawned and Biriba still kept quiet. Ten days passed thus. At the end of the ten days he harnessed the mare, mounted and went off to Itaóca as though nothing had happened.
His appearance caused astonishment. All efforts to find him during the day of the election and those following had been in vain; they had given him up as lost, eaten by the panthers, he, mare, mail-bag and "paper.” Now to see him appear alone and calm, made mouths open and the whole village gape. What had happened?
