Tintin in the New World: A Romance by Tuten Frederic

Author:Tuten, Frederic [Tuten, Frederic]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-12-18T16:00:00+00:00

— Chapter XIII —

[Afternoon of the same day.]

The signs were thick. Reason with them as he might, he could not deny their insistent presence. There were almost too many signs, each worthy of attention. Only yesterday a condor, gripping a two-headed snake in its mouth, swept the heights of Machu Picchu three times, and at that moment an Indian from a nearby village gave birth to a daughter who spoke in several languages.

Still, the lieutenant resisted. It was too large a matter, too profound to bear, that destiny had chosen him to witness and aid the coming. How could he be certain that the stories his grandfather had told him were true? How could he be sure that the old man's memory was not blurred or that he had not corrupted the ancient prophecy with inventions of his own, or those of others before him? Weighing most in his doubts, he admitted, was his disbelief that he, baked of common clay, undistinguished by birth and accomplishment, should be the knower and first guide. Yet again, the omens and signs were there, seen by all and fully understood only by him.

Lieutenant dos Amantes thought these things as he sat drinking alone in the patio of his favorite cantina in a village three miles below Machu Picchu. It was market day. He spied Naptha limping through the bustling stalls. A young woman with a child at her breast squatted in the shade of a stone wall. As Naptha passed, she stretched out her arm and opened her hand. Naptha scowled and accelerated his limping pace. Presently another familiar figure appeared: Settembrini. In the bright light of day the lieutenant saw clearly that the Italian's pants were soiled and frayed and that his scuffed shoes sloped sharply down at the heels.

Settembrini bowed and glanced furtively at the woman's naked breast. Then, suddenly, he raised his head and swept his eyes over the cloudless sky as he fingered his waistcoat in search of a coin. But either the object of his search was not to be found or Settembrini had undergone a change of heart, for he resumed his walk, eyes skyward.

Lieutenant dos Amantes shifted in his seat and muttered. Snowy suddenly appeared at the lieutenant's foot, and the dog raised himself on his hind legs.

"You're a good one, aren't you?" the lieutenant said respectfully. "Like your master, I think."

Snowy rubbed his snout against the soldier's thigh and gave out a little sharp whine.

"Hasta fuego," the lieutenant called out as Snowy suddenly trotted across the street and disappeared among the stalls.

Dos Amantes spoke to his creamy-blue drinking cup as if it were wired to the deepest veins of the world, linking his wavy voice to the trees and brush of the surrounding jungles, to boulders and canyons, to the farthest sandy stretches of his country's foggy coast. In his mind he made this cup the intimate ear of a universe hungry for news.

"Men and women come and go, all quarrels and all memories of

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