“Well, there isn’t even a moon and we can’t deal monte, 168as if that weren’t the same as giving you what you want, anyway.”
“I risk my hide saving you for money, then?” Don Tiburcio’s tone was aggrieved.
“Oh no, for friendship,” the sardonic Rodrigo corrected himself, “and I think as much of you in my turn, amigo mio. Not half an hour ago I was wrapped in anxiety, imagining you trying to collect blackmail, and I not near to keep my patriots from your throat. Oh, the sorrow of it!”
“God be praised that a dear friend came and eased your worries! But you are not an ingrate. Since the Confederate Gringo took all my money the other morning––”
“Tiburcio, on oath, I haven’t had money either, not since our last game at cards. There was Murguía, I know, but I let him off for bringing me that French girl. She was good for a big ransom, only your same Gringo–curse the intruder! If ever the Imperialists catch him, and Murguía is there to testify against him––”
Tiburcio moved nearer on the church step. “And then?”
“That’s our secret, Murguía’s and mine.”
“But Rodrigo, he is caught. They are trying him and Murguía both this very minute. And do you know what for? For being your accomplices.”
The outlaw started exultantly. “Then, if you want him shot––”
“Well?–Oh don’t be afraid, maybe I can help.”