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PERSON they met was an alpinist. A Belgian alpinist in search of mountains.
    “You're in the right place,” Luis told him.
    “I prepared my trip carefully,” the Belgian explained.
    He had rented a donkey in Puerto Natales, and had loaded its back with bags containing enough provisions and gear to face the toughness of the mountain for at least fif teen days.
    “Want to see?”
    He proudly exhibited his survival kit, his dehydrated soups, his thermal containers; then he started to unpack hisbrand-new climbing equipment, which consisted of cross belts, ropes, pegs, shoes, thermal blankets, and more.
    “I've been dreaming about this for ten years.” He laughed, his face gleaming. “So, you can imagine, I had plenty of time to do my shopping.”
    He stopped laughing when he realized that his listeners did not seem in the mood to chat. The stouter man, in particular, made him uncomfortable. But the man was Chilean! And everyone had praised the hospitality, the easygoing way and generosity of Chileans.
    “I have to continue on the road,” he said as he started to pack his belongings in a hurry.
    In doing so, he turned his back on Angel.

    The second person they met was a horseman, a farmer of the Pampas, proud and haughty, who had a dozen fat lambs in his herd.
    “Hello!” Angel shouted.
    The farmer brought his horse to a halt and whistled to his dog. The lambs, in turn, stopped to nibble on the short grass.
    “We are going to Punta Arenas,” Angel explained to the rider. “Is this the right way?”
    The farmer gave a hard look at the strange party before him. He nodded.
    “Is it still far?” Paolo asked.
    “Very far,” the farmer answered. “I'm headed that way.”
    Angel told him that they were having a problem with their donkey. “It's limping. Would you be kind enough to take a look? It's the left hind leg.”
    The farmer was knowledgeable in matters of horses. He came down from his mount, entrusted the bridle to Paolo, and leaned over to examine the leg of the donkey.
    In doing so, he turned his back on Angel.

    “It wasn't nice to do that,” Luis said after a long silence.
    He was sitting behind Angel on the horse's back. Around them, heavy clouds were darkening the sky.
    Luis shook his head. “No, really, it wasn't—”
    Angel pulled on the bridle of the horse abruptly, bringing it to a stop, and Luis couldn't finish his sentence.
    “If you want to walk to Punta Arenas, nobody is keeping you,” Angel said. “You can get off.”
    Luis didn't reply. Although he disapproved of the way Angel had plundered the two travelers, he was glad to spare himself the effort of a long walk. But, still, robbery was robbery.
    “What is Paolo going to think?” he whispered in Angel's ear. “You're not setting a good example for the child.”
    Angel shrugged. For once, he had not killed anyone. He had just put the tip of his knife on the napes of the two men to scare them. What was wrong with that? Moreover, hehad bound them neatly, thanks to the brand-new equip-ment of the Belgian. His only remorse was for the farmer's dog; it had been too aggressive and had to be destroyed. Paolo had run after the sheep, which had been scared off by the gunfire, but had been unable to catch even one.
    “It could have turned ugly,” Luis continued. “If the farmer had gotten hold of his rifle—”
    “But he didn't. So stop whining. You're getting on my nerves.”
    Luis kept quiet. The rifle was swinging in its sheath against the side of the horse, and at any moment, Angel could reach for it. Luis exhaled a long and resigned sigh. While Angel guided the horse over the difficult path, he thought about the alpinist's threats. “I will complain to my embassy! I will find you!” the Belgian had shouted. But by now his furious rantings had long been covered by the gusts of wind sweeping the plain.
    “Maybe we'll be sorry we spared them,” Angel muttered as he thought about the same thing.
    Luis felt a long shiver run down his