not too soon, for he was caught in the skirts of that earthy avalanche. He was struck upon the head. For him the horror ended, swiftly as the cries of the others had been silenced.
"He came to consciousness buried waist deep, bruised, half crazed, the clot forming in the cortex of his brain. One idea crystallized. It was the vengeance of God. Venganza de Dios. They had desecrated the place with the blood of innocent men. He alone was spared. Porque?
"I do not think he answered that question easily, or for a long time. But its constant interrogation imbued him with another fixed idea. He must not speak of this. Not only would he be captured, but he would go unshriven to his grave. He was ignorant, superstitious, and there was the thrombosis, the coagulation in his none-too-well-developed brain.
"He fought himself free like a wild thing. His horse was gone and he wandered out into the desert. After a long while he crawled to a white man's ranch. It was far away. They asked him no questions. He was in no condition to answer and terror held him dumb after they had tended him. There is no terror like that of the Unknown. Venganza de Dios. It drove him away when they offered him a job as herder. He fled, far to the west. His wanderings, like those of the accursed Jew, have no place here, save as I used them to check his narrative. But he held his secret until I, his god, appeared and gave him opium when he could no longer deny it. Or so I believe. We can easily find the place, can see if that buried rift has been disturbed. If not, over
