Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he turned abruptly upon his heel, and said, "Buenos!" Then he walked on towards the hacienda, while the man hurried towards his friends, having detected nothing unusual. Pedro was a rough, ill-conditioned fellow, he knew, so that the answer was all that he had expected. Still, it was galling to be treated like that, especially by one not of pure Spanish birth, and he did not fail to remark upon it.
"One would think that we were dogs," he said angrily. "Here have I been round the clearing to see that all is as it should be, and when I report the same to him, he turns upon me as though I had done him an injury. At least, it was as bad as that. Some day the half-breed cur will be sorry. He has murdered many, and perhaps someone will try to find room for the blade of a knife between his ribs. If so, I for one shall not weep. But hand me my supper. There is one consolation in the fact that he cannot cut me from my meals."
Thankful to have escaped discovery, which would have meant failure at the very commencement of his little plot, Hal swaggered to the steps, and stood there a moment to roll one of the many cigarettes with which the average Spaniard regales himself during the day. Taking care to keep his back to the sentry, who stood upon the balcony above, he struck a match and lit up, sending a cloud of smoke flying into the air.
"Now for it," he murmured gently. "I don't want a scene, and I wish to avoid bloodshed, but I mean to prevent this fellow D'Arousta from robbing Mr. Brindle. He is my employer, and it is only my duty to do all that I can."
He ran lightly up the steps, and would have passed the sentry without a word, but the man came forward, and held his rifle forward to bar the path, as if he had noticed something strange. But, more probably he was half asleep, or had been day-dreaming, for when Hal gave vent to an exclamation of impatience and anger, the Spaniard sprang back, and at once offered an apology. Hal took no notice of it, for to do so would have been to betray himself. Instead, he pushed on, and, pausing just for one moment to drag his hat still more over his eyes, entered the big room of the hacienda, which lay on the left.
A tall shaded lamp stood close to the wall, and some paces from it was a table at which José d'Arousta sat, with a flood of light illuminating his face. Opposite him, seated in a chair, to which his wrists and ankles were lashed, was Mr. Brindle, while standing close beside him was Dora, white and trembling, but for all that preserving an undaunted mien.
Hal took in the whole situation in an instant, and, clattering across the room without ceremony, dragged a seat to that end of the table farthest from the lamp, and sat down with the rays upon his back.
Puff! A cloud of tobacco smoke came from his lips and enveloped him.
"Ha, you are back, then, Pedro!" exclaimed José d'Arousta, turning to him. "What luck, my partner? Has it been good?"
At that moment Hal emitted another cloud of smoke, and at once commenced to choke violently. He dragged a big red handkerchief from the pocket of Pedro's coat, and held it to his face, nodding meanwhile as if to answer the question.