"Well, after us the end of the world."
"In the meantime let us drink," said the verado.
"Good! Let us drink, and drown care. Have we not Don Fernando Carril to help us when our purses run dry?"
"Another name which ought to have stuck in your throat," said Carlocho, striking the table in his irritation with his fist. "Can you never hold your tongue, cursed dog?"
Pablito frowned, and, looking angrily across the table, exclaimed: "Do you pretend to give me a lesson, amigo? ¡Canarios! You begin to put my blood up."
"A lesson? And why not, when you deserve it?" replied the other, without stirring. "Caray these two hours you have been drinking like a sponge; you are full as a vat, and talk as wildly as an old woman. Hold your tongue, or go to sleep."
"Mil rayos," growled Pablito, sticking his knife violently into the table; "You shall answer for this!"
"¡Vive Dios! A blood-letting will do you good. My hand itches to give you a navajada (a stroke with a knife) across your hideous snout."
"Hideous snout, did you say?" and Pablito threw himself upon Carlocho, who awaited his onset firmly.
The other vaqueros and leperos threw themselves between the pair, to prevent the meeting.