"Good!" exclaimed Sacatripas; "Why should we not have a hand?"
"Let us do so," they cried, brightening up, and each taking an old pack of cards from their pockets, at the same time drawing their knives from their girdles.
These two movements had been executed with such precision and so simultaneously, that they showed that, notwithstanding the great friendship of which they made a parade, the two brothers had not an unlimited confidence in each other's honesty.
"What shall we play for, my dear fellow?" carelessly asked Mataseis shuffling the cards.
"We must play for something."
"Certainly; without that, there would be no pleasure."
"Well put—if we played only for honour."
"Pooh!" exclaimed Sacatripas; "Between us, my dear fellow, honour does not signify much."
"What do you mean?" cried Mataseis.
"I mean," pursued Sacatripas, "that we are both too accomplished and too justly renowned caballeros to risk our honour on a card."