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was, Macauley had been unable to learn; he wasn’t even sure that it was on record. But it was a matter of history that he had been some sort of pagan priest or attendant at Monte Sagrado when the Spaniards arrived and that he was just about the first to accept baptism. The Spaniards made him a catechist and, Roman Catholic priests being then and for a long while thereafter in short supply, his influence as a catechist was immense. In fact, he might well have become a Roman Catholic priest himself — except that no natives were ordained at that time at all. Weren’t trusted not to be relapsable, in short.
    But Juan Fernando, as his baptismal name was, nevertheless, had lived a devout religious life, never marrying, showing an excellent example, quietly exhorting and instructing, chastity, poverty and obedience and all that, respect of Spanish and Mexican alike … and, when he finally died, was buried right there.
    “Right up there?”
    “Right up there…. Only he didn’t stay buried. He’s still on view, in that glass-covered catafalque that they’ll bring around tonight. A sort of local example of popular canonization. To the Church, of course, he is no saint. But to the people, he’s very much a saint. Oh, a few times, some superscrupulous bishop has decided that this is an illicit cultus and has tried to suppress it. But not for long. The most the priests here will commit themselves to, if you ask them if it’s true, as the people say, that the Hermit takes off at night for Rome every now and then and serves the Pope at mass — oh, they’ll sort of click their tongues and give a quick shake of the head….
    “But … you know … I’m not sure that they’re totally convinced that he
doesn’t!
    “And of course there’s a lot more. I could talk all night. For instance — I’ve never been able to find out, to make sure: is that actually the Hermit in the catafalque? Or a wax effigy? Or a waxen covering
over
a mummy or bones? It’s all covered with embroidery, except the head and hands, and you can’t get close enough to make
sure
. I’d sure like to know. Oh, well — maybe someday I will!”
    He smiled. Sarah said, “Gee …” Her sense of wonder was very pleasantly excited. And just then a dish slipped out of her slackened hands and crashed into pieces. “More
cachi-bachis!
” Macauley said, pleasantly undisturbed. “Be sure you stick them up in the fork of a tree.”
    Sarah said, “Damn! Oh — damn it!” And burst into tears.
    • • •
    He was not merely overwhelmed by this new catastrophe, he was …
    He was not merely overwhelmed by this new catastrophe, he was …
    “So there you are, Jacobo,” Luis wound up. “Now, please, tell me, honestly, your opinion. Please.” He looked at the face of his confidant. And the face lit up with sudden insight. Luis’s heart bounded. He leaned forward.
    “ ‘Inundated’!”
Jacob shouted. “
‘He was not merely overwhelmed by this new catastrophe, he was inundated by it!’
Ha! Ha-ha! Good! Great!” He leaped to his typewriter and began to attack the keys. A minute passed, and another and another, with Jacob uttering little squeaks and grunts. Then he ripped the papers and carbons from the typewriter. “There!” he cried. “And stap my vitals if we don’t put it aboard the packet boat to sail at first tide tomorrow morning!” Then he blinked, smiled slightly, frowned slightly. “Hello, Luis,” he said, cordially. “Didn’t see you come in…. What’s new? Anything on your mind? Eh? ¿
Que pasa, joven?
”
    • • •
    Amidst much, much excitement and after many false alarms, the inhabitants of, and visitors to, Calle de la Independencia were finally outside and awaiting the approach of the procession. Archways of wire and flowers and greenery and electric lights spanned the street at several points and were boasted by a number of individual houses, as well as banners reading
Bienvenida Heremito
. Down the street, in front of the