"The stone won't be knocked out again. It's jammed firmly in, and gets set tighter every time it touches ground. The mule's in awful pain."
"I can't help that."
"By God, I can though. Here, pull up."
"Señor Haigh, you must be mad."
"I may be that, but I'm hanged if I'll sit here and see that poor miserable mule tortured. Here, Cospatric, stand by to grab this elderly person if he interferes.—And now, Mr. Cochero, pull 'em up in their tracks or I'll do it for you."
The driver did as he was bade willingly enough, and Haigh nipped down and levered out the stone with his knife. I stayed where I was. I had my arms full. To be accurate, they were wrapped round the third member of our trio, who was wriggling like a demon, and foaming at the mouth in his wrath.
But after all the halt was only a short one. "All clear," shouted Haigh, thirty seconds after he had descended. "Arr-e-ee, and away you go, my tulip. Not much time lost there, Señor Taltavull, after all."
The anarchist favoured him with the most poisonous look of hatred that I ever beheld, and spoke with shut teeth: "If we fail through this halt, Señor Haigh, look to yourself."
"Thanks," replied Haigh, squinting at him coolly enough; "I'm quite capable of doing that same, so think well before you play any pranks."
We didn't talk much after that, but squatted upon our ruin like three bears, the mules meanwhile being sent along for all they were worth. It would be hard for me to say how long we took over the passage, as I didn't clock it, but I dare bet that we covered the ground in record time for a four-wheeled conveyance.