"Well," he demanded, "what do you say? Must we lug her back to Xauxa? Answer, and quickly, for I sicken."
"Oh, gentlemen!" wailed Rogelio, "be honest. Be just. Be considerate of a poor man."
Duero broke in with imitation of his whine: "Oh, be open-handed. Be charitable. Be virtuous. Faugh! You offend my bile. Come. Yes, or no! Do you double it? 'T is indifferent to us, for the Inca, or Mendoza, will know how to reward. But answer!"
Rogelio rolled his eyes to heaven, then lagged forward to the table and took up the scales. "Oh, my good men, 't is—"
"Cease!" commanded Duero. "We are no good men. Had we been, you had not approached us. Weigh out, and be done."
The veedor heaved a long, shuddering sigh, and weighed the gold.
"Now," said Duero, "to your horse, and to Xauxa."
"Oh, curses!" protested the veedor. "Art not finished? I've paid thee twice!"
"Go!" shouted Duero, stamping his foot. "Order your horse. I'll see you to the gates."
Rogelio went out with a groan. In half an hour he was riding down the hill, panting an imprecation at every step. Duero returned from the gate whither he had escorted him, and calling the servant, ordered the best the veedor's larder afforded. Then the villains held carnival.