Before long, maybe in just a few days, he would be at the Pyramids.
An old man, with a breastplate of gold, wouldn’t have lied just to acquire six sheep.
The old man had spoken about signs and omens, and, as the boy was crossing the strait, he had thought about omens.
Yes, the old man had known what he was talking about: during the time the boy had spent in the fields of Andalusia,
he had become used to learning which path he should take by observing the ground and the sky.
He had discovered that the presence of a certain bird meant that a snake was nearby,
and that a certain shrub was a sign that there was water in the area.
The sheep had taught him that. If God leads the sheep so well, he will also lead a man, he thought, and that made him feel better.
The tea seemed less bitter. “Who are you?” he heard a voice ask him in Spanish.
The boy was relieved. He was thinking about omens, and someone had appeared. “How come you speak Spanish?” he asked.
The new arrival was a young man in Western dress, but the color of his skin suggested he was from this city.
He was about the same age and height as the boy. “Almost everyone here speaks Spanish. We’re only two hours from Spain.”
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