They moved farther from the doorway, conversed in whispers for a few minutes, and then they started to walk down the dirt street of the village. Hall and Segador sat patiently, without exchanging a word. Once, while they waited for the shepherd and the Notary, Segador told Hall with a look that he thought everything was going to be all right. Then the two villagers returned with two horses and two donkeys.
"We have decided," said Bustamente the Notary, "that in the interests of full justice we must take you to see the school teacher in Puente Bajo. He will know what to do."
Segador sighed with relief. "Thank you, Señor Notary," he said. "And thank you, Compañero Shepherd. I am certain that your decision is the wisest one could make, and that we shall receive ample justice from the school teacher of Puente Bajo. But tell me, how far is the village from here?"
"It is less than five miles, Major."
"I am content."
The shepherd undid the cord that connected the bound hands of Hall and Segador and, because their hands were still tied behind their backs, he helped them mount the donkeys. He and the Notary climbed into the wooden saddles of their small horses, fastening the donkeys' leads to their pommels.
Segador smiled at Hall, whose donkey was being led by the shepherd. "Wonderful," he said. "Sancho leads the noble Don home from an encounter with the sheep."
"Please, gentlemen," Bustamente the Notary said, sharply, "you are not to address one another. Justice begins in the village, and justice"—again he aped Don Anibal's gesture—"and justice will be done."
"We bow to your authority in matters of justice," Segador said, gravely.
He and Hall sat in silence as the convoy cut across a meadow on the slope and turned toward the outlines of a larger village in the valley. They jogged toward the dim yellow lights of Puente Bajo, the shepherd piercing the night quiet with the curses he flung at the heads of the donkeys every time they balked.