"No. He's drinking. He's out for trouble." Manuel spoke with a peculiar emphasis, recalling Pedro's drunken brawls, Raul's displeasure, Don Fernando's disregard. Manuel took time to pull a grass blade and poke it between his teeth, and then said, "He's very drunk." The moon floated directly overhead, a spray of cloud in front of it. Something shook the dried fingers of a palm--a bird. "Pedro came to talk with Don Fernando," said Manuel. "I won't stop him," said Raul. "I hear he says he'll never leave Petaca." "He talks big. He's afraid." "No--he's not afraid. Don't make that mistake, Don Raul!" "Pedro has to leave.... I won't put up with him," he exclaimed. In his mind's eye, Raul saw Pedro roping cattle in their corral, his lasso pinning a yearling. In the corral and on the range he had no rival. But as overseer, his cowpuncher skill meant nothing. He had not the slightest concept of what cooperation meant. Returning, they took the road that led straight to the hacienda and entered the feudal wall through a seldom used gate. Raul said good-night to Manuel and lingered on the terrace, beside the swimming pool. Lighting his pipe, he reminded himself he must fill his tobacco pouch. The pool was flecked with jacaranda flowers, bats zoomed. Elbows on the adobe wall, Raul searched the volcano for a sign of smoke. High on the flank, nearest the ocean, he detected a red spark; perhaps a charcoal burner's fire. In the living room, he put his pipe on the desk, filled his pouch, and blew out the candles. During the night, Caterina called him: "Papa, Papa ... come." She was having a bad dream and he rubbed her legs and stomach and quieted her, kissed her cheek and tiptoed back to bed. Sleep would not come and for a long time he contemplated the starry windows. Angelina lay curled in a kitten's ball. Suddenly, clearly he heard an owl cry. Before he could restrain himself, he sat up. Angelina stirred and muttered. Ridiculing superstitions, he lay still and tried to plumb the stars. In the morning, the children got up first and dressed happily. Caterina dashed down the stairs singing, her loose slippers clumping the tiles. "Soy la golandrina ... soy la golandrina..." Almost at once she rushed back up the steps, screaming: "... Grandpa's fallen on the floor! I think he's dead! Grandpa's lying on the floor ... quick, quick. He's fallen out of bed!" she cried, repeating herself till her mother hurried down. Caterina hid her face in her pillow and sobbed. Raul threw on his robe and got into his slippers. A gentle rain trickled across the window glass of his father's window. Shadows, formed by the water on the pane, shimmered on Fernando's face. His features seemed a little less ugly. He groaned, as Angelina propped up his head and gave him a drink.