The grave-digger was sick, so a farmer had to dig it.

But let's ask that man what has become of the cross." They went over to where the grave-digger was watching them with curiosity.

He removed his salakot respectfully as they approached.
"Can you tell me which is the grave there that had a cross over it ?" asked the servant.
The grave-digger looked toward the place and reflected.

"A big cross ?" "Yes, a big one!" affirmed the servant eagerly, with a significant look at Ibarra, whose face lighted up.
"A carved cross tied up with rattan ?" continued the grave-digger.
"That's it, that's it, like this!" exclaimed the servant in answer as he drew on the ground the figure of a Byzantine cross.
"Were there flowers scattered on the grave ?" "Oleanders and tuberoses and forget-me-nots, yes!" the servant added joyfully, offering the grave-digger a cigar.
"Tell us which is the grave and where the cross is." The grave-digger scratched his ear and answered with a yawn: "Well, as for the cross, I burned it." "Burned it?
Why did you burn it ?" "Because the fat curate ordered me to do so." "Who is the fat curate ?" asked Ibarra.
"Who?
Why, the one that beats people with a big cane." Ibarra drew his hand across his forehead.

"But at least you can tell us where the grave is.