“Perhaps. But those who are do not have children,” was Rosendo’s simple manner of settling the argument.
Its force appealed to Josè, and he felt a shade of relief. But, if Diego were not the father of Carmen, what motive had he for wishing to take her with him, other than to train her eventually to become his concubine? The thought maddened him. He almost decided to tell Rosendo.
“But, Padre, we came out here to talk about the militia of which I am to be captain. Bien, we must begin work to-morrow. Hombre, but the señora’s eyes will stand out when she sees me marching at the head of the company!” He laughed like a pleased child.
“And now that we have gold, Padre, I must send to Cartagena for a gun. What would one cost?”
“You probably could not obtain one, Rosendo. The Government is so afraid of revolutions that it prohibits the importation of arms. But even if you could, it would cost not less than fifty pesos oro.”
“Fifty pesos! Caramba!” exclaimed the artless fellow. “Then I get no gun! But now let us name those who will form the company.”
By dwelling on the pleasing theme, Josè managed to keep Rosendo engaged until fatigue at length drove the old man to seek his bed. The town was wrapped in darkness as they passed through its quiet streets, and the ancient Spanish lantern, hanging crazily from its moldering sconce on the corner of Don Felipe’s house, threw the only light into the black mantle that lay upon the main thoroughfare.
At sunrise, Josè was awakened by Rosendo noisily entering 128 his house. A glance at the old man showed that he was laboring under strong emotion.
“What sort of friendship is this,” he demanded curtly, “that you keep me from learning of Diego’s presence in Simití? It was a trick you served me––and friends do not so to one another!” He stood looking darkly at the priest.