"Ah! that's what the friars are mad against," said one.
"What the monks want to burn," muttered another.
"What is to Claret and the rest of 'em what the red flag is to the bull," observed Diego the chulo.
Alcala remarked that not one of the speakers appeared inclined to make common cause with the priests.
"I wonder what there is in that Bible to make men fear it as if a stiletto were hidden between its two boards!" said the robber.
"Have you the book with you, caballero?" asked the smuggler who had before addressed Aguilera.
"Unfortunately I have not," said Alcala; "but I have committed to memory many portions of its contents. If it would be any gratification to the gentlemen present,"—Alcala glanced around him as he spoke,—"I would willingly let them judge for themselves whether or not it is wise and right in the priests to try to put the Bible beyond the reach of the people."
"Let's hear, let's hear," resounded from every side, and the groups at the further end of the dungeon drew nearer to listen. Curiosity, the love of novelty, and eagerness to hear anything that would break on the wretched monotony of prison life, were powerful incentives with all.
That was a strange audience indeed! Villains stained with various crimes thus brought together to hear for the first time in their lives the gospel message of mercy. Alcala silently prayed for wisdom and the bodily strength which he so sorely needed; for what with the heat and the scent of the place, the fatigue which his weakened frame had undergone, and the reaction after excitement, the cavalier doubted whether his physical powers would hold out under the strain. Diego noticed the deadly pallor of the prisoner's face, and stretching out his hand where he lay, the chulo drew towards him a jar partly filled with water, which had been left near the wall.
"Let the señor drink first," said Diego. "Pity 'tis that we cannot offer him the good wine of Xeres; but water is better than nothing."