As the sun sank behind the western mountains José and Nestor followed the winding trail toward the place where the ceremony was to be held. Just at dusk they arrived at the patio situated on the top of a small hill. Of course in his boyhood days José had frequently visited the patios where the ceremonies of the conservatives for untold generations had been held. He knew their general form well—a flat circular ground with a place for a fire in the center, a ring of stones which served as seats for the communicants, a circular path without this for the dancers, and a rude altar built of stones to the east. But now everything assumed a new significance.