DEATH FOR DON.
It was the early part of the year 1511, when Montoro, become now quite an experienced islander and man of business, left Don Alonzo's place, Palmyra, one morning for the neighbouring town of San Domingo. The object of the visit was to arrange some important matters with certain foreign merchants, who had lately arrived with tempting offers to the planters for the produce of their estates.
"And don't hurry thyself," said Don Alonzo with unusual consideration. "Take thy pleasure for a few days when thou art in the town, for verily this dog's hole of a place is dull enough to make a man long to shuffle off life with a native's readiness."
"If those same natives should get the upper-hand," answered Montoro drily, "I doubt not they would help you. Meantime, I will trust to find you still in the flesh, and well, when I return, and so—adios."
"And for you, fair journeyings and good bargains," said the indolent superior, as he lay lounging in his low chair sipping a cool lime-juice beverage. Little enough of the work he did himself towards accumulating his own wealth.
But, lazy and self-indulgent as he was, it had not escaped Montoro that there was a certain scarcely-suppressed eagerness, and barely-hidden hope of some sort, underlying his present declared wishes for his subordinate's comfort. As Montoro left the verandah and passed through the house he called to his rescued protégé, who had proved useful enough to secure himself a home beneath Don Alonzo's roof. No work had seemed to come amiss to him, excepting that of aid to the overseers in the gold mines, in which he had been recently employed. But the brutal task-masters had just sent the boy back, saying that he was no good to them whatever, worse than no good indeed, for he pitied the rascally workers instead of flogging them.
Bautista came readily enough when he heard his beloved Señor Diego's voice.
"Am I to go with you, my Señor?" he exclaimed beseechingly. "Ah! but I will be to you eyes and hands and feet, if I may."
"I prefer to use my own, thank you," answered Montoro smiling, as he patted the boy's head. "But look not so disappointed, Bautista, for if I cannot trust myself to thee, I am going to leave in thy charge one I hold almost dearer. I leave thee guardian of our faithful old Don. And see thou that he comes to no harm, and—that he does no harm. I have guarded him from that sin hitherto; do thou guard him in my absence."
A deep breath, almost a groan, burst from the boy's lips.