At that moment, the cowboy shouted, with the red-hot brand in his hand, applying it to the paddle of several bulls lying and tied up in the corral: "Another… another".... Each of these shouts was followed by a bellow, and Don Ignacio would use his penknife to make one more notch on a guasimo stick that served as a foete.
As the cattle could be dangerous when they got up, Don Ignacio, after having received my farewell, got to safety by going into a neighbouring corral.
Emigdio's chosen spot on the river was the best place to enjoy the bathing that the waters of the Amaime offer in the summer, especially at the time we reached its banks.
Guabos churimos, on whose flowers fluttered thousands of emeralds, offered us dense shade and cushioned leaf litter where we spread out our ruanas. At the bottom of the deep pool that lay at our feet, even the smallest pebbles were visible and silver sardines frolicked. Down below, on the stones that were not covered by the currents, blue herons and white egrets fished peeping or combed their plumage. On the beach in front, beautiful cows were lying on the beach; macaws hidden in the foliage of the cachimbo trees were chattering in a low voice; and lying on the high branches, a group of monkeys slept in lazy abandonment. The cicadas were everywhere resounding their monotonous songs. A curious squirrel or two peeped through the reeds and disappeared swiftly. Further into the jungle we heard from time to time the melancholy trill of the chilacoas.
–Hang your tights away from here," I said to Emigdio, "or else we'll come out of the bath with a headache.
He laughed heartily, watching me as I placed them on the fork of a distant tree:
–Do you want everything to smell like roses? The man must smell like a goat.
–Surely; and to prove that you believe it, you carry in your tights all the musk of a goatherd.
During our bath, whether it was the night and the banks of a beautiful river that made me feel inclined to confide in him, or whether it was because I had given myself traces for my friend to confide in me, he confessed to me that after having kept the memory of Micaelina as a relic for some time, he had fallen madly in love with a beautiful ñapanguita, a weakness that he tried to hide from the malice of Don Ignacio, since the latter would try to thwart him, because the girl was not a lady; And in the end he reasoned thus:
–As if it could be convenient for me to marry a lady, so that I should have to serve her instead of being served! And gentleman as I am, what on earth could I do with a woman of that sort? But if you knew Zoila? Man! I don't weary you; you'd even make verses of her; what verses! your mouth would water: her eyes could make a blind man see; she has the slyest laugh, the prettiest feet, and a waist that....
–Slowly," I interrupted him: "You mean you're so frantically in love that you'll drown if you don't marry her?
–I'm getting married even if the trap takes me!
–With a woman of the village? Without your father's consent? I see: you are a man of beards, and you must know what you are doing. And has Charles any news of all this?
–God forbid! God forbid! In Buga they have it in the palms of their hands and what do you want in their mouths? Fortunately Zoila lives in San Pedro and only goes to Buga every few days.
