Don Mario fell back in his chair and quailed before the mountainous wrath of the priest.
A shadow fell across the open doorway. Glancing up, Josè saw Carmen. For a moment the girl stood looking in wonder at the angry men. Then she went quickly to the priest and slipped a hand into his. A feeling of shame swept over him, 101 and he went back to his chair. Carmen leaned against him, but she appeared to be confused. Silence fell upon them all.
“Cucumbra doesn’t fight any more, Padre,” the girl at length began in hesitation. “He and the puppy play together all the time now. He has learned a lot, and now he loves the puppy.”
So had the priest learned much. He recalled the lesson. “Bien,” he said in soft tones, “I think we became a bit too earnest, Don Mario. We are good friends, is it not so? And we are working together for the good of Simití. But to have good come to us, we must do good to others.”
He went to his trunk and took out a wallet. “Here are twenty pesos, Don Mario.” It was all he had in the world, but he did not tell the Alcalde so. “Take them on Rosendo’s account. Let him have the new supplies he needs, and I will be his surety. And, friend, you are going to let me prove to you with time that the report you have from Cartagena regarding me is false.”
Don Mario’s features relaxed somewhat when his hand closed over the grimy bills.
“Do not forget, amigo,” added Josè, assuming an air of mystery as he pursued the advantage, “that you and I are associated in various business matters, is it not so?”
The Alcalde’s mouth twitched, but finally extended in an unctuous grin. After all, the priest was a descendant of the famous Don Ignacio, and––who knew?––he might have resources of which the Alcalde little dreamed.
“Cierto, Padre!” he cried, rising to depart. “And we will yet uncover La Libertad! You guarantee Rosendo’s debt? Bien, he shall have the supplies. But I think he should take another man with him. Lázaro might do, no?”
It was a gracious and unlooked for condescension.