"_Amigo_, I am sorry, but I have no money with me," he said regretfully. "But if you will come to the boat I will gladly give you something there." At this the figure emitted a scream of rage, and broke into a torrent of sulphurous oaths. "_Na_, the Saints curse you beggarly priests! You have no money, but you rob us poor devils with your lies, and then leave us to rot to death!" "But, _amigo_, did I not say--" began Josè soothingly. "_Maldito!_" shrilled the figure; "may Joseph and Mary and Jesus curse you! A million curses on you, _maldito_!" Pulling itself upward, the shapeless thing sank its teeth deep into the priest's hand. With a cry of pain the startled Josè tore himself loose, his hand dripping with blood. At the same time the figure fell over into the road and its enveloping rags slipped off, disclosing in the bright moonlight a loathsome, distorted face and elephantine limbs, covered with festering sores. "Good God!" cried Josè, recoiling. "A leper!" Turning swiftly from the hideous object, his brain awhirl with the horrible nightmare, the priest fled blindly from the scene. Nauseated, quivering with horror, with the obscene ravings of the leper still ringing in his ears, he stumbled about the town until daybreak, when the boat's shrieking whistle summoned him to embark. The second day on the river seemed to Josè intolerable, as he shifted about the creaking, straining tub to avoid the sun's piercing rays and the heat which, drifting back from the hot stack forward, enveloped the entire craft. There were but few passengers, some half dozen men and two slatternly attired women. Whither they were bound, he knew not, nor cared; and, though they saluted him courteously, he studiously avoided being drawn into their conversations. The emotional appeal of the great river and its forest-lined banks did not at first affect him. Yet he sought forgetfulness of self by concentrating his thought upon them.