As I wearily sank back
in the water and grasped the paddle in the hope that farther down some
opening in the mountain might give me a chance to escape, something
familiar struck my senses. I could not tell what it was. It was
intangible, yet I felt there was something about that belonged to
human beings. Again I came to an upright position, peered in every
direction and listened. It was then discovered what it was that had so
affected me. It was the smell of smoke which the breeze was gently
carrying up the river. I pushed down on my course with all my strength
in hope of finding the fire, and on rounding a sharp bend was rewarded
by seeing a thin, blue streak curling up from the mountain side. I
landed a little above it and commenced clambering over great, detached
rocks, until I gained a terrace on a level with the line of smoke. I
paused to listen and heard the muffled sound of voices near me. The
voices came from the other side of a small promontory around which
I crawled. My soft rubber boots made no sound, and as I rounded the rock
I was surprised to find myself almost alongside of two shepherds. One
of them was stooping over the fire stirring something in a stew pan,
while the other was rolling cigarettes in corn husks, their backs
turned toward me.
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