its bony arm and pointed toward Mocos. A strong command came from the dark, draped figure, âThe dog must go! It is but an animal that happened to follow you into this cavern. It does not know any better!
âGo back to the entrance!â it told the dog. Mocos understood. The dog got up and walked away toward the entrance of the cave, then stopped and looked back at his master.
âAnd, you, sir! It was your fate that you entered the Cave of Death and now you cannot leave!â
âWhy? Why?â Polito sobbed loudly, holding his head in his hands. He was a wretched-looking figure on the cave floor.
The phantom spoke on. âYou entered the Cave of Death. It is here in this cave that the souls of the dead come to await their judgment. This entrance is but one of several in the world. This cavern, deep in the entrails of the earth, is where all the departed souls gather to be judged according to their deeds in life. The angels are the witnesses, and in the Hall of Judgment, oneâs fate is determinedâeither Paradise or the Deep Pit of Evil. So you see I cannot let you go. You must be executed.â
Polito screamed as Death placed its bone on Politoâs shoulder. Polito sensed his physical body drop as his soul floated away. He could see the moaning souls of the dead drifting into the recesses of the cave. He saw Death standing over his lifeless body and Mocos running away. Polito let out a long mournful moan as he joined the stream of soulsmoving deeper into the cave.
Mocos the dog was found with Politoâs mule wandering out in the desert. The Indians and mestizos from the villages wondered about Politoâs disappearance. They never found him. The people fed Mocos, who would look at them with deep dark eyes. Only the dog knew what had happened to the old prospector, and he would bark and bark at the people. But he could not tell them about The Caves of Death.
THE ACORN TREE GROVE
THE ACORN TREE GROVE
T he river water gleamed and flashed as the young boy waded across with his dog Sapo. The boy hesitated on a small sandbank in the middle of the river. He patted Sapoâs head and rubbed it with his hand. The dog wagged his tail acknowledging his masterâs touch.
The boy looked at the opposite bank, at a large grove of acorn trees. âThatâs a good place to go into the grove,â he mused. He started again to cross the river toward the acorn grove.
Once he reached the riverbank, the boy took hold of a small branch and pulled himself out of the stream onto dry land, where Sapo was already shaking the excess water off his body.
As the boy and the dog wandered into the grove, they heard a sad, mournful sound from the tree-tops: âCoo, coo, coo!â The sound kept repeating itself as they walked deeper and deeper into the trees. It was the call of a mourning dove.
Beneath Mundoâs (that was the boyâs name) and Sapoâs feet there was a blanket of leaves that made a crushing sound when the boy and the dog walked on it. Near the hillside, Mundo noticed that the trees were larger and the grove was thicker in thearea, so that very little sunlight could filter through the branches.
âWhat a gloomy, dark place,â Mundo said. In the meantime, while a cricket in the shadows made a chirping sound, Sapo was sticking his nose into piles of leaves sniffing and sniffing.
After awhile Mundo realized that he had lost track of time. It was very silent in the grove with no other sound except for the sad call of the mourning dove. Standing in the shadows of the grove, Mundo began to remember the many stories of the river that the old men from the barrio told when they gathered to gossip and exchange tales. He also began to regret that he had not listened to his mother when she warned him to stay away from the RÃo Hondo because of the strange things that had happened there.
Now it was completely silent. The mourning dove had quit its cooing. Mundo sensed that