I always knew that a cactus was dangerous, so I said to myself, “'Tis these great spikes one must avoid," and threw myself whole-heartedly and whole-handedly into stroking the beautiful green spaces between.

“Is a prettysome name, is Wachanga,” he croons.

Huh? Where did they go?

In the lightness of my heart I sang catches of songs as my horse gayly bore me along the well-remembered road.