T. S. Stribling

“ The promoter felt profoundly weary, old, burned out.
He was turning south, with some vague intention of going back to his paddlewood and lying down, when he saw the bulk of Gogoma push out of the jungle toward the north. The high priest carried a basket on his great arm and Lassiter knew it held birds.
The Stendill agent was about to turn on away when the behemoth made a gesture asking him to wait. Lassiter walked over and leaned against one of the vast pilasters. The fat man waddled toward him with his breech clout entirely concealed in rolls of flesh. ”

“ We will hurry and ordain you high priest tomorrow or next day, but, señor, to look at my picture, you should have preparation, you should fast—and pray.”
Sweat dripped from Gogoma under his emotion. A condition of the priesthood suddenly came into the promoter's mind.
“Didn't you tell me, Gogoma,” he asked suddenly, “that priests were not allowed to marry?”
“Si, señor.”
Then the fat man interpreted the look that crossed Lassiter's face and went on persuasively:
“Señor, what a man loves in a woman is her loveliness. ”

“ Like all men, he was vastly impressed with the promoter's wisdom because he had repeated his own theory in slightly different words.
“Señor, you are the man I have been praying to come to Mototbatl.”
Lassiter regarded him curiously.
“You must become high priest in the temple of the Sun.”
Lassiter did not know whether this were a jest or not.
“I am in earnest, señor. I have prayed for such a man. None of my acolytes can take my place. Neither Jagala nor Quiz-Quiz. They do not comprehend that the temple is for man and not man for the temple. ”

“ The perfume of the jungle breathed in upon them. A fly droned above the cordage of the hammock, and a last, when it settled on the strange rope of which the bed was made, it zinged away as if again the devil of insects were in pursuit. ”

“ There was no need trying to probe by indirection, for Lassiter already sensed the behemoth's mind was subtler than his own. To his surprize the priest proceeded.
“If Señor Birdsong had greased his hands and feet he could have walked on the net without fear of sticking. That is the method we priests use in collecting our alms—it is a great miracle. The people flock to see it. It refreshes their faith in other things they know nothing about.” ”

“ She becomes part of your immortal idea, and the sense of sight is the sense of touch infinitely refined——”
This last, uttered in a tone of revelation, meant nothing at all to the promoter. He took his foot down from the pilaster and moved southward toward Tilita.
“After all, I can not become high priest, Gogoma. I shall marry. Not immediately, not so soon after Birdsong's death, but I shall marry.”
Signs of animation faded from Gogoma's bulk. He fell in at Lassiter's side and waddled in unison to his step. Dwarfed by their surroundings, the two men moved southward across the vast piazza. ”

“ The promoter slipped these keepsakes of the dead man into his pockets with some vague idea of forwarding them to Mollie Birdsong. There was something pathetic in the worn little Testament which Birdsong had toiled to bring to Motobatl.
“And do you know, señor, I've wondered what could have whisked a man away like that when he was stuck so tight; and think, there was absolutely nowhere for him to go—and he went so quick—I'm a hard man to puzzle, señor, but this puzzles me——”
Lassiter came' out buttoning the flaps of his pockets. The muleteer looked up curiously. ”

“ The promoter released himself gently.
“Your niñas are quite safe, señora.”
“And he will no longer oppose your marriage with my Tilita?”
“No— He is gone.”
“And good riddance!” The grimalkin paddled back to her work well content. Her babies were safe; her daughter was about to be married; her religion had triumphed; old Prymoxl's universe was again pat. She took a gourd of palm wine and sipped it with a smacking.
“Well—” she soliloquized, “he who mocks the gods mocks himself. Old Gogoma taught me that when I was a muchacha.” ”

“ He arose, drew some greasy cartridges from his greasy pockets and clicked them into the automatic.
“Nunes,” said Lassiter gloomily, “you are going to get yourself thrown into the net after all.”
The muleteer laughed aloud.
“My dear camarado, to hear us talk any one would think I was the bridegroom and you the unhappy suitor. I swear you haven't the face of a man who will act as novio to the sweetest girl in Motobatl to night.” ”

“ The first hint the man received was when he spoke tentatively to old Prymoxl. Now he had announced a definite decision to Nunes. He walked back into his cubicle and began packing his bags with a kind of thirst for the quiet and abnegation of the temple.
As he packed, the surroundings of the paddlewood brought Birdsong before his mind. He thought of how he had run after the little man for their last talk, of how Birdsong had warned him against idolatrous women, and had prayed that he should never marry Tilita. ”