"Then answer, Fray Antonio," the prisoner said with a grin; "for you alone can reveal the name the Captain asks of us."
"I?" the monk said with a start of passion, and turning pale as a corpse.
"Ah, ah!" the Captain said, as he turned to him, "this is beginning to grow interesting."
It was a singular scene presented by the four men standing round the fire, whose flame fantastically lit up their faces.
The Captain carelessly smoked his cigarette, while looking sarcastically at the monk, on whose face impudence and fear were fighting a battle, every incident in which was easy to read; the two hunters, with their hands crossed over the muzzles of their long rifles, smiled cunningly, and seemed to be quietly enjoying the embarrassment of the man whom they had placed in this terrible dilemma.
"Don't pretend to look so surprised, Padre Antonio," the prisoner then at length said; "you know very well we were expecting you."
"Me?" the monk said in a choking voice; "the scoundrel is mad, on my soul."
"I am not mad, Padre, and I will trouble you not to employ such language toward me," the prisoner replied drily.
"Come, give in," the other, who had hitherto been silent, cried coarsely; "I do not care to dance at the end of a rope for your good pleasure."
"Which will inevitably happen," the Captain remarked quietly, "if you do not decide, Caballeros, on giving me a clear and explicit explanation of your conduct."