The Bridge in the Jungle by B. Traven Read Free Book Online

tell you? You have only to open your eyes and ears when you're near them and you'll learn quickly and easily how they make big money. Yet they can't bedazzle me. Not me. None of them. I know those thieves all over.'
    That these people who were so very courteous by nature should, in the presence of Sleigh and myself, talk in such a way about Americans was proof that they did not count us among the gringos and thieves, simply because we were not oilmen, and therefore, in their opinion, we had no relationship with the race from which the oilmen come.
    A man had meanwhile seated himself near Garcia. He had taken the fiddle away from him and put it against his breast, Indian fashion. All the girls looked up with hope in their eyes, because that man grasped the fiddle so resolutely, as though he were going to show Garcia how a fiddle should be played.
    He played the first twenty notes so astonishingly well that the girls pulled at their dresses and stroked their hair, while the boys turned their faces quickly towards the benches and sleepers where the girls were sitting. Just when the boys were about to jump to their feet to dart over towards their partners, the tune got confused, and as abruptly as the music had begun, it finished with a pitiful moan. The new fiddler, trying to make good, started once more on another tune, but there was now no doubt that he was ten times worse than Garcia, who could at least keep time.
    Garcia took his fiddle back with a smile. Tuning it, bending down to put his ear to the strings, he looked around at the crowd as if he wanted to say: 'Well, now you can see for yourself who the really good musician is hereabouts.'
    He began playing again, and obviously influenced by the lively notes he had just heard, he fiddled with more energy. Two girls got up and started to dance. Garcia was in heaven when he saw that somebody was going to take his music seriously. After twenty passes or so the girls realized that it was impossible to dance to the mixed-up melodies Garcia was composing. If there were only a guitar at hand to accompany the fiddle, bad as it was, it might have been possible to obtain some sort of dance music.
    Nobody thought of leaving the party. And what is more, no one showed any sign of disappointment. In fact, not a single person considered the party a failure. Real music to dance to would have been a good thing to liven up the party, but since it could not be had, everybody made the best of the gathering.
    Most of the people there had come a long way. They couldn't return in so dark a night through the jungle; and since they were here anyway, everybody was sure that something would happen, because something had to happen to justify the trouble they had taken to get to the place. Where so many people are gathered together, something is bound to happen, and nobody and nothing can prevent it. It is nature's law.
    We two, Sleigh and I, did not break into the discussion that was being held in our group, save occasionally to exclaim: 'Zat so?' or 'Really?' or 'Maybe,' or 'No doubt!'
    Ignacio, the man with the great knowledge of the way in which oil magnates make their millions, left us. He went looking for another group before whom he could show off. That he could win the admiration of the highly respected maestro maquinista would live in his memory for years to come, and the pump-master might now ask him for whatever he wished and he would get it. Men are devoted to those who admire them.

9
    A young and very pretty woman came towards us. She was dressed in a cheap sea-green gauze frock. Through it one could see her white cotton petticoat, richly trimmed with lace. Two big red flowers adorned her thick black hair, combed and done up neatly, almost meticulously. A little bunch of wild flowers was pinned to her breast, and another was fastened at her girdle. One could see that she had good taste, for the flowers matched the colour of her dress so well that a delicate but natural harmony was