The boy's name was Santiago. Duskwas falling as the boy arrived with hisherd at an abandoned church. The roofhad fallen in long ago, and anenormous sycamore had grown on thespot where the sacristy had once stood.He decided to spend the night there. Hesaw to it that all the sheep enteredthrough the ruined gate, and then laidsome planks across it to prevent theflock from wandering away during thenight. There were no wolves in theregion, but once an animal had strayedduring the night, and the boy had had tospend the entire next day searching forit.He swept the floor with his jacket andlay down, using the book he had justfinished reading as a pillow. He toldhimself that he would have to startreading thicker books: they lastedlonger, and made more comfortablepillows.It was still dark when he awoke, and,looking up, he could see the starsthrough the half-destroyed roof.I wanted to sleep a little longer, hethought. He had had the same dreamthat night as a week ago, and onceagain he had awakened before it ended.He arose and, taking up his crook,began to awaken the sheep that stillslept. He had noticed that, as soon as heawoke, most of his animals also beganto stir. It was as if some mysteriousenergy bound his life to that of thesheep, with whom he had spent the pasttwo years, leading them through thecountryside in search of food andwater. "They are so used to me thatthey know my schedule," he muttered.Thinking about that for a moment, herealized that it could be the other wayaround: that it was he who had becomeaccustomed to their schedule.But there were certain of them whotook a bit longer to awaken. The boyprodded them, one by one, with hiscrook, calling each by name. He hadalways believed that the sheep wereable to understand what he said. Sothere were times when he read themparts of his books that had made animpression on him, or when he wouldtell them of the loneliness or thehappiness of a shepherd in the fields.Sometimes he would comment to themon the things he had seen in thevillages they passed.But for the past few days he had spokento them about only one thing: the girl,the daughter of a merchant who livedin the village they would reach in aboutfour days. He had been to the villageonly once, the year before. Themerchant was the proprietor of a drygoods shop, and he always demandedthat the sheep be sheared in hispresence, so that he would not becheated. A friend had told the boyabout the shop, and he had taken