The Pearl -John Steinbeck Ch. 5 & 6

Kino, hurrying toward his house, felt a surge of exhilaration.

And Kino thrust the pearl back into his clothing, and the music of the pearl had become sinister in his ears, and it was interwoven with the music of evil.

There wasn't much left of it then anyway, for every time it fell over an escarpment the thirsty air drank it, and it splashed from the pools to the dry vegetation.

Kino stirred in a dream, and he cried out in a guttural voice, and his hand moved in symbolic fighting.

And the baby was weary and petulant, and he cried softly until Juana gave him her breast, and then he gurgled and clucked against her.

But ahead were the naked granite mountains, rising out of erosion nibble and standing monolithic against the sky.

She could feel his warm breath against her skin, and Juana whispered her combination of prayer and magic, her Hail Marys and her ancient intercession, against the black unhuman things.

He looked then for weakness in her face, for fear or irresolution, and there was none.

Any sound that was not germane to the night would make them alert.