The Bridge in the Jungle by B. Traven

pearls which looked real, but she was honest enough to admit that they were only of paste and that the little stones in the comb were also false.
    Her husband was the owner of a special suit for Sunday — and it included a coat. A suit with a coat, that's the thing — where everybody's suit consists only of a pair of cotton pants.
    They had a clock, an alarm clock at that. Furthermore, they had a real mirror, which was framed. For their table they had a knife and two forks, not to mention the spoons, of which they had seven. But the greatest thing they owned was a real mattress, with springs, and a bed made of iron, with big brass knobs at the four corners. Who else in the world, everybody asked, had such a bed and such a mattress? Perhaps the president of the republic.
    Of course, the pump-master could afford all that luxury. Wasn't he an employee of the railroad? Railroad employees were the greatest men under heaven. Whatever the pumpmaster woman said was worth ten times as much as anything the priest said. He who was befriended by the pump-master woman did not need the queen of England, whoever that might be. It is still doubtful that the queen of England owns two pairs of silk stockings, as the pump-master woman does, and whether the queen of England possesses three silk handkerchiefs and one of lace; that would have to be proved before anybody here would believe it. For what people said about the riches of kings and queens and presidents and such gentry, well, it wasn't always true. On the other hand, everything said about the riches and the luxury of the pump-master woman was absolutely true, because everyone had seen it.
    While the women were hanging around the pump-master's kitchen, gossiping and chatting, there was suddenly great excitement in one of the groups. One heard rapid speech interrupted by a flood of questions.
    One of these questions finally came to us very clearly: 'What did you say? The kid wasn't there?'
    The mule-driver and the boy who accompanied him had returned from the nearest village, where they had gone because of the boy who reported that he had seen little Carlos riding in that direction, towards Pacheco.
    'No, he wasn't there. And no one has seen him.'
    'Have you asked everywhere, in all the huts?'
    'Of course we have. Everybody was asleep when we arrived. Yet we went to every choza and asked every family we found at home if they had seen the kid. None had.'
    'Did you also ask if the boy might have passed through the pueblo alone or with somebody, a boy or a youngster?'
    'We certainly have. The whole day long no one from Pacheco has come this way and no one who is not of the village has been seen there any time today or tonight. The dogs would have barked if somebody had passed through the pueblo at night.'
    'Now what about the trail? Have you looked well at the trail?'
    'No fresh tracks on the trail, I'm sure. We lighted the trail twenty times and at different sites too. No fresh tracks of any sort of horses or burros or anything save cattle which marched home from the bush and the pastures in the evening. We're absolutely sure that if the kid went away alone or with some other boy he certainly did not go that way. I know all the side trails and the veredas going in other directions off the main trail and we've looked them over too, and very carefully. No tracks on them either.'
    The muleteer gave the mule he had been riding to a man standing near by, asking him to return it to its owner. Then he walked to his camp, followed by the group which was still asking questions.
    The mule-driver noticed the Garcia woman sitting on a bench in the portico. He went to her, for until now she had not known of his return.
    She stood up and looked at him, and his eyes immediately began to wander from one to another of the men who had followed him. He could not bear her stare. He wanted to say something. But she sat down again before he opened his mouth. She knew his report. The mule-driver turned his back