Master Pedro considered a moment, and shook his head. To say truth, when that sermon began, his head was occupied with the doubt of whom he should trust to send with his next consignment of money, glass beads, and other things, to his son.
"It was appropriate to the occasion," he said at last with a clever evasion worthy of the Delphic oracle.
But his companion was too much in earnest now to smile. He replied quietly:
"The text was this: 'Inasmuch as ye did it not unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye did it not to me. Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire.'"
So sternly solemn was his utterance of those two final words, that the other was thrilled with it, and moving uneasily on his seat, he muttered:
"One would think you were talking of the Holy Tribunal itself, to hear you."
"Only," ejaculated Sancho, "that I am talking of something infinitely more terrible. The one fire is for five minutes, the other—everlasting. I prefer the five minutes' one, if it must come to the choice. But, if you will help me, I think not we shall run much risk of either. Those who are in danger of their lives over here, and endanger those who aid them, are perfectly welcome, I have discovered, to imperil those same lives on their own account in the other hemisphere, for the glory of our country. And, on this I am resolved—yon black-eyed rascal shall have his chance with the rest."