Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
tinct embers, and had crawled out as far as the harbor, where she had heard that some town mozos had been killed on the morning of the riot. One of the cargadores guarding the custom-house had brought out a lantern, and had helped her to look at the few dead left lying about there. Now she was creeping back, having failed in her search. So she sat down on the stone seat under the arch, moaning, because she was very tired. The capataz had questioned her, and after hearing her broken and groaning tale had advised her to go and look among the wounded in the patio of the Casa Gould. He had also given her a quarter- dollar, he mentioned carelessly.
'"Why did you do that?' I asked. 'Do you know her?'
"No, señor. I don't suppose I have ever seen her before. How should I? She has not probably been out in the streets for years. She is one of those old women that you find in this country at the back of huts, crouching over fireplaces, with a stick on the ground by their side, and almost too feeble to drive away the stray dogs from their cooking -pots. Caramba! I could tell by her voice that death had forgotten her. But, old or young, they like money, and will speak well of the man who gives it to them.' He laughed a little. 'Señor, you should have felt the clutch of her paw as I put the piece in her palm.' He paused. 'My last, too,' he added.
"I made no comment. He's known for his liberality and his bad luck at the game of monte, which keeps him as poor as when he first came here.
"'I suppose, Don Martin,' he began, in a thoughtful,
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