Free The Bridge in the Jungle by B. Traven Page B

where he was running. I couldn't keep him in the house for more than two minutes at a time. He had to run across to Manuel again. And off he went like a whirlwind. He knows the way to the bridge, and the bridge itself, well enough — better perhaps than any one of us — because ever since he could run at all he has been running across that bridge two hundred times every day. So he ran back again without even thinking that he might ever fall off the bridge, because he could run across it blindfold. But now he had the new shoes on his little feet, those pretty shoes with polished and lacquered soles that he was so proud of. With these shoes on his feet he was not the same any more. But how could he know that? No longer was he sure about his way, and no longer did he have his feet under control the way he used to when he ran barefooted. How could he, a child, know the difference it makes to your feet when you have shoes on? Now, when I crossed the bridge tonight, I almost tumbled over. I saw the lantern hanging here at the pump-master's and went straight towards the light. Only when I stumbled against the rim and almost lost my balance did I remember that the bridge doesn't lead straight towards the choza here, but more to the right. When this happened to me, right then my first thought was that should the kid run so wildly and thoughtlessly across the bridge, as he surely did because of his excitement, there is every chance that he might tumble over the rim and fall into the river. That's why, on coming over here, my first question was about the kid. Otherwise, if this had not happened to me, I would not have thought of him, not until I saw him here again. And believe me, all of you, when I asked for the boy and nobody had seen him, I knew instantly that it was too late already, for my heart was full of a sudden pain.'
    Nobody interrupted the mother in her long speech. For many minutes no one said anything. They were thinking of what they had just heard. There was so much good sense in what she had said that most of those present were beginning to believe that what had happened was just as the mother had explained it.
    The pump-master woman was the first to speak. 'Now listen, Carmelita, be reasonable. What you tell us is absolutely impossible. It can't be. Somebody would have heard it when the kid tumbled over and fell into the river. There would have been a splash, sure there would.'
    Tumbling over. Falling into the river. A plunge. A splash. I looked sideways and my eyes met those of Sleigh, who was looking at me at that very moment. Neither of us had any desire to say anything.
    'No, no, that's quite impossible,' a man said, 'we would have heard it. If such a boy falls into the water he splashes, doesn't he? Has anyone heard such a splash? I, for one, haven't. Besides, a boy of his age doesn't tumble into the water and disappear immediately just like that. He would shout and yell like hell. He would beat and kick around and make such a terrific noise that you could hear it a mile away. No, don't tell me he is in the river, not me.'
    'Naturally, he would make an awful noise,' the pumpmaster remarked. 'I know that kid, I do. There wasn't a day in the year when he wasn't in the water swimming and splashing and making such a row that you would think he owned the whole river all by himself. In the water he is like a fish, the kid is. He would have got out just like that, shoes on or no shoes on. And if he had met with some difficulty he would have hollered like the very devil himself, that's what he'd have done.'
    The Garcia had listened to every word; not once had she interrupted the talk. Now, however, she felt that she had to defend her boy. 'Certainly he would have worked himself out of the river, and all alone, and he would have yelled, too, if he couldn't get out. But how could he yell? He was wearing his new shoes, so he wasn't safe on his feet. Running across the bridge fast as he could and not thinking of anything but