"As how?" says he.
"Why," says I, "are we not on our road to rescue my cousin from the hands of Lewis de Pino?"
"No," says he, stopping again; "that are we not. For we're giving De Pino as wide a berth as I can contrive. Our factor will set out on that path as soon as he finds you flown."
"Friend," says I, "'tis for you to choose betwixt going on with me to the rescue of my cousin or taking me back to the station."
He tilted his hat forwards, and, scratching his head, was silent a minute; then, in a grumbling kind of voice, he says:
"What a plague do we want with a female?"
"Would you suffer her to go into slavery?" says I.
"They like it," says he sullenly. "Not at first, but after a bit. She'll be treated well, and I count she won't thank you from taking her away from a fine house and rich gowns to wander about in the woods without a roof to her head or a whole rag to her back."
"Nor matter for that," says I; "she shall be taken out of the Portugal's hands if I live."
"Well," says he, a little more cheerfully, "if it is to rob the Portugal, I shall be less loth; and to oblige you, more willing. We must turn back, howsomever, to those horrid rocks again."