Nunez was desperate. He wanted to show them the power and benefit of sight. ‘I could fight the blind men,’ he thought. ‘That would show them the advantage of sight.’ He picked up a spade. But he couldn’t do it: he couldn’t hit a blind man.
With the spade in his hand, he looked at the blind men who were standing around him with their heads to one side, listening.
Then one spoke. ‘Put down that spade,’ he said.
Nunez couldn’t believe it. How could they know? Suddenly, he felt angry. He pushed away one of the men and ran out of the village. He ran through a field of grass. When he eventually stopped, he sat on the grass and looked out towards the village. The blind men were coming out of their houses with sticks and spades. As Nunez watched, they came into the field. They were walking slowly and talking to each other. Sometimes they would shout, and sometimes they would stop and sniff the air.
One of the blind men leaned down. Bent at his waist, his head close to the ground, he came towards Nunez, feeling his way with his fingers. For five minutes, Nunez watched the wall of men come towards him. He stood up, the spade still in his hands. He had a sudden idea. ‘Should I attack them?’ Nunez wondered. He moved quietly towards the blind men. But as soon as he moved, the blind men began sniffing the air like dogs, turning their heads from side to side.
Like a song, strange words ran through Nunez’s head: ‘In The Country of The Blind the One Eyed Man is King!’