"What joke are you referring to?"
"Hombre! don't you know that his true name is Verduzco, and that he is called Verdugo[29] (executioner) because he is obliged sometimes to see justice done to himself in what he calls his affairs of conscience?"
This peculiarity in the character of the man on whose heels I had been treading so closely was not the most agreeable thing in the world, I must confess; but I wished to get some more information about him, and accordingly inquired how long it had taken Don Tomas to acquire this formidable surname.
"On my word," replied Florencio, "that's one of those matters of which one does not like to keep a too exact account—probably he does not even know himself—but perhaps you will form a bad opinion of Don Tomas from what I have told you. The Señor Verduzco is no egoist; his neighbor may have the use of his knife at a time; and, provided you give him solid reasons (with a strong emphasis on solid), he is always ready to render one a service."
"The devil he is!" I cried. "Don Tomas must be a most inestimable character, and I am quite impatient to make his acquaintance."
In spite of this gasconade, the intense desire that I had shown to see Don Tomas was dispelled as if by magic; but, having gone too far to recede, I determined to make my way, as I had intended, to the Cerro del Gigante. The night passed without any incident occurring except that I was forced to lend my host a part of my manga to stop up a hole in the roof that admitted the cold, and I took leave of him in the morning with many thanks for his munificent hospitality, which had been shown by his appropriating to himself three parts of my supper and the half of my cloak. Moreover, not many hours before he had tried to shoot me.
I mounted, and proceeded in the direction of the Cerro del Gigante. Armed with my lance, whose torn pennon bore witness to the danger I had run, escorted by Cecilio, and having the guitar of the Biscayan nobleman thumping on my back, I bore no uncertain resemblance to the wandering knight of La Mancha in search of adventures, attended by his trusty squire. This mission of mine was one of the most delicate kind, for now I had no doubt whatever but that we were on the traces of a Mexican bravo, and I had been following him for the last six days. I was quite convinced, however, that I had done nothing to get myself involved with Don Tomas.
The bravï of Mexico, like their compatriots in other countries where this formidable profession is exercised, begin at first by putting those to death to whom they become indebted at the gaming-table. It was, then, a point of the very greatest importance to establish my identity fully in the eyes of a fellow of this stamp, as I might probably, if this were not done, get a stab intended for some other person. This consideration deciding me above all, I repaired to the Cerro del Gigante, and in a short time arrived at a very pretty house at the foot of the mountain. A purling brook, shaded with sycamores, ran close by the door. My host of the preceding night had described the place to me too minutely to allow of my missing it. I addressed myself to a groom, who was rubbing down a beautiful horse at the gate, by inquiring if the Cavalier Verduzco could be seen at present.
"No, señor," replied the man. "He had scarcely arrived here last night ere he was sent on business of the utmost importance to Guanajuato, which he can scarcely finish in less than three days; and when he comes home, he may require to depart again immediately."
"Where is he going next?" I asked.