At the outskirts of the town, Bustamente the Notary ordered a halt. "I have been thinking," he said. "It is my feeling that if the two on the donkeys are of the Republic and innocent, then we will have committed an offense against their sacred dignity if we lead them into Puente Bajo fettered on mangy donkeys. I have therefore come to the conclusion that perhaps it would be better for me to ride on alone to the school and bring the teacher back to meet us here, by the road."
"I can agree," the shepherd said. "But wait until I tether their donkeys." He dismounted, led the donkeys to the side of the road and tied their forefeet to lengths of rope he fastened to a strong tree.
"Would you want one of your own cigarettes?" he asked Hall.
"Yes. Many thanks. And one for Major Segador, too. And please take one for yourself."
The shepherd declined with a serious face. "First," he said, "I must hear what the school teacher has to say about you. He is wiser, even, than Bustamente the Notary."
Bustamente the Notary and the man who was acknowledged to be even of more wisdom than he returned out of breath; the school teacher from trotting after the short horse and the Notary from talking incessantly to the pedagogue. The teacher was a compact mestizo in his early twenties, a short youth with a furrowed sloping Indian forehead and bright beady black eyes. He was wearing a pair of brown-cotton trousers, a blue shirt without a tie, and rope-soled slippers.
"Are you truly Major Segador?" he asked. And then, without waiting for the answer, he turned to the shepherd and began to berate him. "You fool," he shouted, "untie his bonds at once. Do you know that he sat in El Moro with Don Anibal?"
"I am without learning," the shepherd said.
"It is all right, teacher," Segador said. "The compañero did his duty—and he did it properly. Undo my hand, Juan Antonio, so that I may shake your hand."
"I am sorry, compañero," the school teacher said to the shepherd. "I spoke to you without thinking."