“Certainly, senor!”
“Way for the gentleman!”
“Let the Yankee pig find his wallow!”
Click-clack! click-clack! Way on the outskirts of the crowd a man had picked up a cobblestone, on which he now began to whet his knife.
It was a most suggestive sound. The crowd roared with merriment, craning their necks to see whether this Yankee blanched.
But Hal, though he knew that a spark would be sufficient to touch off a mine of Spanish mob-treachery, retained his composure.
“I am in a hurry, if you please,” he said, trying to edge his way through.
The crowd pretended to make way, yet each Spaniard took pains to get only more in the way.
They were playing with him, as a cat does with a mouse, enjoying their sport with true feline ferocity.
One of the crowd suddenly divined our hero’s purpose.