"No, I'm not talking about wild ducks, I'm talking of the domestic
ones, of those that are raised in Pateros and Pasig. Do you know what
they feed on?"

Ben-Zayb, the only thinking head, did not know--he was not engaged
in that business.

"On snails, man, on snails!" exclaimed Padre Camorra. "One doesn't
have to be an Indian to know that; it's sufficient to have eyes!"

"Exactly so, on snails!" repeated Don Custodio, flourishing his
forefinger. "And do you know where they get them?"

Again the thinking head did not know.

"Well, if you had been in the country as many years as I have, you
would know that they fish them out of the bar itself, where they
abound, mixed with the sand."

"Then your project?"

"Well, I'm coming to that. My idea was to compel all the towns round
about, near the bar, to raise ducks, and you'll see how they, all
by themselves, will deepen the channel by fishing for the snails--no
more and no less, no more and no less!"

Here Don Custodio extended his arms and gazed triumphantly at the
stupefaction of his hearers--to none of them had occurred such an
original idea.