nt impetus to start her toward the door。 Tonight it failed to。 Next she picked it up and brandished it。 Even that failed。 She finally was driven to actually swinging it at the recalcitrant one's calves in order to drive her before her。 Even this was a partial failure。 The girl simply moved nimbly from side to side； but gave very little ground。 Most of the light passes struck emptily against the wall； the girl avoiding being in the way each time。
There was always reluctance； dilatoriness； strife； whenever any question of going out on an errand arose。 But tonight there was more than that。 There was a deadlock； a form of passive resistance。 Such opposition had never before been met with。 Something stronger than fear of her mother's light broom whacks seemed to be holding the girl back。
She crouched in implicit unwillingness against the wall； large brilliant black eyes fixed imploringly； yet inscrutably； on her mother the whole time she continued to side…step the broom's corrective promptings。 She was fairly tall for her age； and particularly her racial antecedents； already full…grown in height if not yet in girth。 She was about eighteen or seventeen。 Or perhaps sixteen； they didn't keep very strict count of ages in this household。 Her skin was the pale gold of wheat； but would probably darken slightly as she grew older。 She had donned a rebozo…the ubiquitous head covering of lower…class Latin American girls and women…as a first step toward going out； but beyond that one preliminary she seemed unwilling or incapable of going。
Her mother began to poke the broom forward at her now； its broadside swipes having failed of effect。 She was shrilly denunciatory as she did so。 〃Three times I have asked you already！ Will you go？〃 She lunged。 〃Has any other woman in town got such trouble with her children？ Why do you afflict me like this； Teresa？ What is it that has gotten into you tonight？ Is it so much to ask you to bring back a little charcoal from the tienda； that your poor father may find his food hot when he es back from working hard？ You could have been there and back already； twice over！〃
〃 Madrecita；〃 the girl implored dolorously； 〃why can't Pedro go for a change？ I work all day in the laundry and I'm tired。〃
〃Pedro can't be trusted to go； and you know it。 He throws the money up in the air all the way there； and then the first thing you know he loses it。〃
〃Why can't you use sticks or papers until tomorrow？ Why do I have to go now？〃
〃Is paper charcoal？ How long does it last？ It flames and then it's gone！〃 This reminded her。 She desisted momentarily from her broom cudgeling to waddle back to the russet…tiled brasero she had quitted some time before。 She snatched up a palm…leaf fan； jerked aside an earthenware receptacle； and anxiously fanned the orifice thus exposed until it had begun to glow a dull red again from below。 〃See that？〃 she said accusingly。 〃It's going down already！ If it goes out…〃
She rushed back for the broom； this time bent on inflicting the final stage of chastisement； all else having failed： an actual belaboring about the shoulders。 In the face of this onset； the girl at last retreated as far as the doorway itself； but then she still hovered there； as though hoping against hope to win some miraculous last…minute reprieve。
A small boy of nine or ten； the aforementioned Pedro； pulled his face out of a bowl it had been buried in until now and remarked jeeringly： 〃I know what she's afraid of。 She's afraid of the jaguar。〃
The girl flashed him a parenthetic look that was an admission。 Then； as though the first reference to it； by ing from someone else； had been enough to free her own powers of expression at long last； she began to importune her mother； in a half…eager； half…bated voice： 〃They say there's one around somewhere。 They say a rich lady had it on a string； and it got away and it hasn't been found yet。 I heard the girls talking about it in the laundry today…〃
The broom was arrested only momentarily。 〃A jaguar？ What's that； one of those things they have in the mountains？〃
〃They're big and they jump on you；〃 said the impish Pedro； with a sidelong look at his sister that showed what prompted him to make the remark。
The Seсora Delgado wasn't having any of this nonsense。 She was too hard…working and careworn to take into account anything not of and within her daily toil and habits。 〃Did you ever meet one of those things yet when you went to the tienda for me？〃 she bellowed。
The girl swallowed； shook her head mutely。
〃Then you won't meet one this time either！ Now get Out！ Do as I told you！〃 And she gave the broom such a backward swing of final purpose that the girl disengaged the door behind her and slunk out backwards； big liquid black eyes； still futilely pleading； the last to go。
The exasperated Seсora Delgado laid her broom aside and returned to her interrupted duties； grumbling darkly and shaking her head。 But a moment later the door had stealthily reopened and the girl was attempting to sidle in again unnoticed behind her back。
She caught her just in time； made a tempestuous start in that direction； but the door had closed a second time before she was able to reach it； and the girl was once more outside。
The Seсora Delgado took care of that by driving the mid…section bolt home； not without a great deal of difficulty。 It was rusted from lack of use。 It probably hadn't been driven home into its socket for years past。 Their door was never barred； there was nothing in the place that anyone would have cared to make off with。 Flakes of scabrous rust fell off the bolt and a little cloud of dust winged up as she finally jammed it all the way in； by main force； and pelled to use both her sculpturesque forearms to master it。
Then she shook her hand at the sightless wooden barrier。 〃Now you'll stay out there until you've done my bidding！ You won't get in again until you've brought that charcoal back with you！〃
Outside the girl cowered for a moment in the shelter of the set…in doorway。 She gave her rebozo a tightening pluck over her mouth。 That was to ward off the night air； known to be unhealthful； keep it out of her nostrils and breathing passages。 Only strangers； Americans and such； braved it。 She peered cautiously up one way and down the other； along the grubby； uptilted little slum lane her house faced。 Not straight； but gradually curving。 No sidewalks； just a middle of the way。 A single wan lamppost gleamed dismally at the far end of it； leaving the rest in shadow。 But she had to go down the other way； where there wasn't any。 There wasn't a soul to be seen anywhere on it。 They were all indoors already at this hour。 They worked too hard around here。 To stay out at night； that was for the rich。 On a night of fiesta； that was different。 Or for the head of the house to step down to the cantina for a few hours； that also was a different matter。 Even while there they were not Out Ofl the street itself； they were indoors。
Well； it wasn't far。 She couldn't get in again until she'd fetched it； so the quicker she did； the better。 She struck out boldly from the doorway； moved down the middle of the road； arms tightly clasping her sides under the ends of her rebozo； eyes watchfully going from side to side in the oval gap it left for her face。
She rounded the sort of blunted corner the alley made in turning in to join the next one below。 For a moment she could glimpse the diluted； tawny light shining out from the inside of the tienda； down there ahead of her。 This new thoroughfare continued the steady downward course her own had maintained。 This whole quarter of the city had been built down a slope leading to the dried…up bed of what had once been a river。
But right while she sighted it； as though it had only been waiting long enough for her to identify it； it went out。 Old lady Calderуn had closed up for the night。 No system of clock entered into this； she couldn't； as a matter of fact； read one； and didn't have one； any more than any of the rest of them did。 She closed up whenever there had been a long…enough lapse after the last customer to suggest that there weren't going to be any more that night。 Thus one night she m