"Oh! A scratch!" replied Mataseis, with a ghastly smile, and, for want of a handkerchief, wiping his face with his poncho; "Better that I should be wounded than my brother, who is so good, and whom I love so much."
"These sentiments honour you as well as your brother," ironically answered Don Pablo; "it is charming, upon my word, to see a family so united as yours; I am quite overcome by it."
"You flatter us, señor," answered Mataseis, who did not know whether to laugh or to cry, but who, in the dilemma, adopted the former alternative.
"Well," said Don Pablo, "as you have now finished—for you have done, have you not?—"
"Quite, señor."
"Very well; then, if you please, Señor Mataseis, you shall wash your face with a little water, and then, as I have not a moment to lose, we will speak a little of our business."
"We are at your orders, caballero."
"I will be back in a minute," said Mataseis, leaving the thicket, and running towards a stream not far distant.
"Ah, you have had a quarrel, then, with your brother, Señor Sacatripas?" asked Don Pablo.
"I, señor!" cried the gaucho, with a start of affected astonishment; "I quarrel with my brother, my only relation, my only friend—he whom I cherish more than myself! Oh, señor, you cannot believe it!"