_Chamorra_ forced the locks of two chiffoniers and a closet. There was silver coin, copper coin, several bank-notes rolled up at the bottom of a fan-case, the wedding-jewelry, a clock. Not a bad haul. His anxious looks wandered over the place, seeking to make off with everything that could be carried. He lamented the uselessness of _Magdalena_, who, restless with fear and with his arms hanging limp at his sides, was pacing to and fro without knowing what to do.
"Take the quilts," ordered _Chamorra_, "we're sure to get something for the wool." And _Magdalena_, eager to finish the job as soon as possible, penetrated into the dark alcove, gropingly passing a rope underneath the quilts and the bed-sheets. Then, aided by his friend, he hurriedly made a bundle of everything, casting the voluminous burden upon his shoulders.
They left without being detected, and walked off in the direction of the outskirts of the town, toward a shanty of Arrancapinos, where _Chamorra_ had his haunt. The latter walked ahead, ready to run at the first sign of danger; _Magdalena_ followed, trotting along, almost hidden beneath the tremendous load, fearing to feel at any moment the hand of the police upon his neck.
Upon examining the proceeds of the robbery in the remote corral, _Chamorra_ exhibited the arrogance of a lion, granting his accomplice a few copper coins. This must be enough for the moment. He did this for _Magdalena's_ own good, as _Magdalena_ was such a spendthrift. Later he would give more.
Then they untied the bundle of quilts, and _Chamorra_ bent over, his hands on his hips, exploding with laughter. What a find!... What a present!
_Magdalena_ likewise burst into guffaws, for the first time that afternoon. Upon the bed-clothes lay an infant, dressed only in a little shirt, its eyes shut and its face purple from suffocation, but moving its chest with difficulty at feeling the first caress of fresh air. _Magdalena_ recalled the vague sensation he had experienced during his journey hither,--that of something alive moving inside the thick load on his back. A weak, suffocated whining pursued him in his flight.... The mother had left the little one asleep in the cool darkness of the alcove, and they, without knowing it, had carried it off together with the bed-clothes.