And mounting his horse, Red Cedar galloped out of Santa Fe.
"Hum!" Andrés Garote said as he watched him depart, "what a diabolical eye! Though I have known him several years, I never saw him like that before. How will all this end?"
Without further remarks he arranged matters in the rancho, repairing as well as he could the disorder caused by the previous struggle; then he took a look round him. The monk, with his elbows on the table and a cigarette in his mouth, was drinking the fluid left in the bottle, doubtless to console himself for the navajada with which Don Pablo had favoured him.
"Why, señor padre," the ranchero said in an insinuating voice, "do you know that it is hardly five o'clock?"
"Do you think so?" the other answered for the sake of saying something.
"Does not the time seem to you to go very slowly?"
"Extraordinarily so."
"If you liked we could easily shorten it."
"In what way?"
"Oh, for instance, with these."