"That demon of a Montbarts," the first went on, "has famously chosen his position. His hatto is impregnable, on my word as a man."
"Yes. I do not think that the gavachos[1] will ever venture to attempt an escalade. But, by the way," he added suddenly, and halted; "suppose we are taking a useless walk, and Montbarts is not at home?"
"I will answer for your finding him at home, Red Stocking, so set your mind at rest."
"How do you know?" asked the man addressed by this singular name.
"My God! Don't you see his flag hoisted at the masthead?"
"That is true. I had not noticed it."
"But now you see it, I suppose?"
"I should be blind if I didn't."
"Well," one of the filibusters said, who had hitherto maintained silence; "all this does not tell us why the meeting is to be held. Do you know anything about it, brother?"
"No more than you," Red Stocking replied. "It is probably some daring project which Montbarts is meditating, and wishes us to take a part in."