Ned had expected that they would be stopped.  These were revolutionary times and people could not go in or out of the city unnoticed.  Particularly was La Viga guarded.  He knew that his fate now rested with Benito Igarritos and his wife Juana, but he trusted them.  The officer was peremptory, but the bergantin was most innocent in appearance.  Merely a humble vegetable boat returning down La Viga after a successful day in the city.  “Your family?” Ned heard the officer say to Benito, as he flashed the lantern in turn upon every one.

Taciturn, like most men of the oppressed races, Benito nodded, while his wife sat silent in her great red and yellow reboso.  Ned leaned carelessly upon the oar, but his face was well hid by the sombrero, and his heart was throbbing.  When the light of the lantern passed over him he felt as if he were seared by a flame, but the officer had no suspicion, and with a gruff “Pass on” he withdrew from the bank with his men.  Benito nodded to Ned and they pulled again into the center of La Viga.  Neither spoke.  Nor did the woman.

Ned bent on the oar with renewed strength.  He felt that the greatest of his dangers was now passed, and the relief of the spirit brought fresh strength.  The night lightened yet more.  He saw on the low banks of the canal green shrubs and many plants with spikes and thorns.  It seemed to him characteristic of Mexico that nearly everything should have its spikes and thorns.  Through the gray night showed the background of the distant mountains.

They overtook and passed two other bergantins returning from the city and they met a third on its way thither with vegetables for the morning market.  Benito knew the owners and exchanged a brief word with everyone as he passed.  Ned pulled silently at his oar.

When it was far past midnight Ned felt a cool breeze rising.  Benito began to unfurl the sail.

“You have pulled well, young senor,” he said to Ned, “but the oar is needed no more.  Now the wind will work for us.  You will sleep and Carlos will help me.”

He awoke the elder of the two boys.  Ned was so tired that his arms ached, and he was glad to rest.  He wrapped his heavy serape about himself, lay down on the bottom of the boat, pillowed his head on his arm, and went to sleep.

When he awoke, it was day and they were floating on a broad sheet of shallow water, which he knew instinctively was Xochimilco.  The wind was still blowing, and one of the boys steered the bergantin.  Benito, Juana and the other boy sat up, with their faces turned toward the rosy morning light, as if they were sun-worshipers.  Ned also felt the inspiration.  The world was purer and clearer here than in the city.  In the early morning the grayish, lonely tint which is the prevailing note of Mexico, did not show.  The vegetation was green, or it was tinted with the glow of the sun.  Near the lower shores he saw the Chiampas or floating gardens.