The Pearl by John Steinbeck

that these houses could burn down in a very few moments. And as he ran a scuttling figure ran toward him—Juana, with Coyotito in her arms and Kino’s shoulder blanket clutched in her hand. The baby moaned with fright,and Juana’s eyes were wide and terrified. Kino could see the house was gone, and he did not question Juana. He knew, but she said, “It was torn up and the floor dug— even the baby’s box turned out, and as I looked they put the fire to the outside.”
    The fierce light of the burning house lighted Kino’s face strongly. “Who?” he demanded.
    “I don’t know,” she said. “The dark ones.”
    The neighbors were tumbling from their houses now, and they watched the falling sparks and stamped them out to save their own houses. Suddenly Kino was afraid. The light made him afraid. He remembered the man lying dead in the brush beside the path, and he took Juana by the arm and drew her into the shadow of a house away from the light, for light was danger to him. For a moment he considered and then he worked among the shadows until he came to the house of Juan Tomás, his brother, and he slipped into the doorway and drew Juana after him. Outside, he could hear the squeal of children and the shouts of the neighbors, for his friends thought he might be inside the burning house.
    The house of Juan Tomás was almost exactly like Kino’s house; nearly all the brush houses were alike, and all leaked light and air, so that Juana and Kino, sitting in the corner of the brother’s house, could see the leaping flames through the wall. They saw the flames tall and furious, they saw the roof fall and watched the fire die down as quickly as a twig fire dies. They heard the cries of warning of their friends, and the shrill, keening cry of Apolonia, wife of Juan Tomás. She, being the nearest woman relative, raised a formal lament for the dead of the family.
    Apolonia realized that she was wearing her second-besthead shawl and she rushed to her house to get her fine new one. As she rummaged in a box by the wall, Kino’s voice said quietly, “Apolonia, do not cry out. We are not hurt.”
    “How do you come here?” she demanded.
    “Do not question,” he said. “Go now to Juan Tomás and bring him here and tell no one else. This is important to us, Apolonia.”
    She paused, her hands helpless in front of her, and then, “Yes, my brother-in-law,” she said.
    In a few moments Juan Tomás came back with her. He lighted a candle and came to them where they crouched in a corner and he said, “Apolonia, see to the door, and do not let anyone enter.” He was older, Juan Tomás, and he assumed the authority. “Now, my brother,” he said.
    “I was attacked in the dark,” said Kino. “And in the fight I have killed a man.”
    “Who?” asked Juan Tomás quickly.
    “I do not know. It is all darkness—all darkness and shape of darkness.”
    “It is the pearl,” said Juan Tomás. “There is a devil in this pearl. You should have sold it and passed on the devil. Perhaps you can still sell it and buy peace for yourself.”
    And Kino said, “Oh, my brother, an insult has been put on me that is deeper than my life. For on the beach my canoe is broken, my house is burned, and in the brush a dead man lies. Every escape is cut off. You must hide us, my brother.”
    And Kino, looking closely, saw deep worry come into his brother’s eyes and he forestalled him in a possible refusal. “Not for long,” he said quickly. “Only until a day has passed and the new night has come. Then we will go.”
    “I will hide you,” said Juan Tomás.
    “I do not want to bring danger to you,” Kino said. “I know I am like a leprosy. I will go tonight and then you will be safe.”
    “I will protect you,” said Juan Tomás, and he called, “Apolonia, close up the door. Do not even whisper that Kino is here.”
    They sat silently all day in the darkness of the house, and they could hear the neighbors speaking of them. Through the