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"The long, black shadow of the men kept moving up and down, climbing over rocks, diminishing and increasing as it advanced along the edge of the arroyo. It was a single, reeling shadow." (Rulfo 37)

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The father carries his son on his back through an arroyo, the shadow a lingering presence of a burden in their relationship. Its description as "diminishing and increasing" reflects the father's shifting hope and anguish.

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"The old man backed up to a thick wall and shifted his load but didn't let it down from his shoulders." (Rulfo 38)

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Rulfo depicts Ignacio, the son, as a load (liability, burden), causing his father pain. The father, in his quest for respite and support, is unable to fully relieve himself of the burden of carrying his injured son. The father's action of shifting the load without letting it down is a powerful demonstration of his determination to keep moving forward, driven by a sense of duty and perhaps guilt or unresolved issues with his son.

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"He sweated as he talked. But the night wind dried his sweat. And over the dry sweat, he sweated again." (Rulfo 39)

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It is now night, and the pair have traveled through the vast arroyo. In this passage, Rulfo used repetition to showcase that the father has labored all his life and that his son is a burden that he must carry.

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"I'll break my back, but I'll get to Tonaya with you so they can ease those wounds you got... That doesn't matter to me anymore. As long as you go far away, where I won't hear anything more of you. As long as you do that- because as far as I'm concerned, you aren't my son anymore. I've cursed the blood you got from me. My part of it I've cursed. I said, 'Let the blood I gave him rot in his kidneys...'" "See if you can see something now. Or hear something. You'll have to do it from up there, because I feel deaf." (Rulfo 39)

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In this chapter, Rulfo employs verbal and situational irony, as the father's words contradict his actions. He says he hates his son but risks his life to save him. The father knows that communication or reconciliation is no longer possible, now blinded by his resentment.

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Long black shadow of a man carrying his son  climbing over rocks, advancing along the edge of an arroyo.

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"Give me some water." "There is no water here. Just stones. You'll have to stand it. Even if there was water, I wouldn't let you drink it." (Rulfo 40)

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Ignacio is slowly dying, and while for Mexicans, water means life, it also means forgiveness. His father denies the act of solace, saying that if he did, his son would be "redeemed" or "saved." Additionally, the fact that he cannot give his son water is worse than choosing not to, as there is no way he can get water, which means the father is unable to forgive his son.

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"He felt his sons weight crushing him as the back of his knees buckled in a final effort. When he reached the first dwelling, he leaned against the wall by the sidewalk. He slipped the body off, dangling, as it had been wrenched from him." (Rulfo 40)

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In this final paragraph, Ignacio dies, emphasizing the inescapable turmoil of their relationship. With this conclusion, one could assume that the dogs were the ones deployed to pursue criminals, thereby explaining why the father is concerned about them. He is assisting his runaway son in saving his life for his deceased mother. Furthermore, the father's ability to hear the dogs after his son's death indicates that he is free of the load he formerly held and is now in sync with all of his senses.