The Pearl by John Steinbeck Page A

walls of the house they could watch their neighbors raking through the ashes to find the bones. Crouching in the house of Juan Tomás, they heard the shock go into their neighbors’ minds at the news of the broken boat. Juan Tomás went out among the neighbors to divert their suspicions, and he gave them theories and ideas of what had happened to Kino and to Juana and to the baby. To one he said, “I think they have gone south along the coast to escape the evil that was on them.” And to another, “Kino would never leave the sea. Perhaps he found another boat.” And he said, “Apolonia is ill with grief.”
    And in that day the wind rose up to beat the Gulf and tore the kelps and weeds that lined the shore, and the wind cried through the brush houses and no boat was safe on the water. Then Juan Tomás told among the neighbors, “Kino is gone. If he went to the sea, he is drowned by now.” And after each trip among the neighbors Juan Tomás came back with something borrowed. He brought a little woven straw bag of red beans and a gourd full of rice. He borrowed a cup of dried peppers and a block of salt, and he brought in a long working knife, eighteen inches long and heavy, as a small ax, a tool and a weapon. And when Kino saw this knife his eyes lighted up, and he fondled the blade and his thumb tested the edge.
    The wind screamed over the Gulf and turned the water white, and the mangroves plunged like frightened cattle, and a fine sandy dust arose from the land and hung in a stifling cloud over the sea. The wind drove off the clouds and skimmed the sky clean and drifted the sand of the country like snow.
    Then Juan Tomás, when the evening approached, talked long with his brother. “Where will you go?”
    “To the north,” said Kino. “I have heard that there are cities in the north.”
    “Avoid the shore,” said Juan Tomás. “They are making a party to search the shore. The men in the city will look for you. Do you still have the pearl?”
    “I have it,” said Kino. “And I will keep it. I might have given it as a gift, but now it is my misfortune and my life and I will keep it.” His eyes were hard and cruel and bitter.
    Coyotito whimpered and Juana muttered little magics over him to make him silent.
    “The wind is good,” said Juan Tomás. “There will be no tracks.”
    They left quietly in the dark before the moon had risen. The family stood formally in the house of Juan Tomás. Juana carried Coyotito on her back, covered and held in by her head shawl, and the baby slept, cheek turned sideways against her shoulder. The head shawl covered the baby, and one end of it came across Juana’s nose to protect her from the evil night air. Juan Tomás embraced his brother with the double embrace and kissed him on both cheeks. “Go with God,” he said, and it was like a death. “You will not give up the pearl?”
    “This pearl has become my soul,” said Kino. “If I give it up I shall lose my soul. Go thou also with God.”

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    The wind blew fierce and strong, and it pelted them with bits of sticks, sand, and little rocks. Juana and Kino gathered their clothing tighter about them and covered their noses and went out into the world. The sky was brushed clean by the wind and the stars were cold in a black sky. The two walked carefully, and they avoided the center of the town where some sleeper in a doorway might see them pass. For the town closed itself in against the night, and anyone who moved about in the darkness would be noticeable. Kino threaded his way around the edge of the city and turned north, north by the stars, and found the rutted sandy road that led through the brushy country toward Loreto where the miraculous Virgin has her station.
    Kino could feel the blown sand against his ankles and he was glad, for he knew there would be no tracks. The little light from the stars made out for him the narrow road through the brushy country. And Kino could hear the pad of Juana’s feet behind him. He