strength. The night lightened yet more. He saw on the low banks of the
canal green shrubs and many plants with spikes and thorns. It seemed to
him characteristic of Mexico that nearly everything should have its
spikes and thorns. Through the gray night showed the background of the
distant mountains.

They overtook and passed two other bergantins returning from the city
and they met a third on its way thither with vegetables for the morning
market. Benito knew the owners and exchanged a brief word with everyone
as he passed. Ned pulled silently at his oar.

When it was far past midnight Ned felt a cool breeze rising. Benito
began to unfurl the sail.

"You have pulled well, young señor," he said to Ned, "but the oar is
needed no more. Now the wind will work for us. You will sleep and Carlos
will help me."

He awoke the elder of the two boys. Ned was so tired that his arms
ached, and he was glad to rest. He wrapped his heavy serape about
himself, lay down on the bottom of the boat, pillowed his head on his
arm, and went to sleep.

When he awoke, it was day and they were floating on a broad sheet of
shallow water, which he knew instinctively was Xochimilco. The wind was
still blowing, and one of the boys steered the bergantin. Benito, Juana
and the other boy sat up, with their faces turned toward the rosy
morning light, as if they were sun-worshipers. Ned also felt the
inspiration. The world was purer and clearer here than in the city. In
the early morning the grayish, lonely tint which is the prevailing note