"Big fig trees are smashing it, lifting walls: one side's trapped in the roots of a huge fig. Treasure hunters have dug up the floors ever since somebody found a tiny gold ship there." "Do you think anyone found a ship of gold?" "I doubt it. But you'll see lots of lizards; they attend Mass faithfully." She blushed. He laughed out, and said: "Who's the priest ... a sea gull?" "Do you remember the huge tree that grew in front of this house?" she asked. "Our palma sola? It was the tallest palm I've ever seen. Papa loved it. It really hurt him when it blew down.... Raul, have more beans while they're hot. I'm so pleased with my new cook. She's one of the best I've ever had...." After breakfast, Lucienne showed him her seedling acacias for it was early and the conservatory was still cool. A butterfly coasted about complacently, above the tiers of seedlings now ready for transplanting. Below the trays, on the floor, rare coconuts split their husks, their yellow sprouts resembling boars' tusks. In a bottomless dugout canoe, filled with sand and shells, grew dwarf cacti, mammillaria, opuntia and cholla. "Isn't that your father's canoe?" he asked. "Yes," she said. "I just keep it.... I like it here, a memento." "Wasn't it filled with ferns?" "Yes, it was." Mona came trotting in and Raul picked her up and stroked her shaggy gray head and shoved some of her hair out of her eyes ... her tongue licked. "We never escape the past, do we?" he said. The past accompanied him as he rode home. With Manuel, he rode across country, under ceibas and palm, the trail winding, sometimes across streams, sometimes through boulder-piled land. They talked about Pedro. The people at Mountain Rancheria reported he was living there, buying and selling guns. The rurales had to be informed. It was a six-day trip. Would they go after him? White ibis and rosy spoonbill flew up from a small lake ... a blue heron sat on a dead and leafless tree, its wings outspread in the sun. An alligator splashed away from the shore as the horses trotted along a shell-strewn beach. "Do you remember this lake?" Raul asked. "Sure. We shot a grandfather alligator here, years ago." "I bagged a _tigre_ in the bush," grinned Raul, "a fast, running shot." "There are no _tigres_ around now." "I suppose not," said Raul. "We should go _tigre_ hunting, way up the volcano, where there are plenty of them. Let's try our luck one of these days." Dismounting, they rested under _cocos de aceite_, a woodland of thousands of short-trunked palms. They nibbled tortillas and a coil of cheese, an armadillo scrabbling in the distance. "I remember that when it rains here the gnats take over," said Raul. "Ssh, see, over there," whispered Raul. Regardless of men and horses, three raccoons, one behind the other, filed toward the water. All stared at the ground, their tails low; the leader had an injured paw and limped badly. "They're late for their food," said Raul.