“Nonsense, doctor; you seem to take rather a strong interest in the brat––possibly an injudicious one; but, since he is my prize, you know, by law, come––what will you give for him? Ah! happy thought, we will play for him! There, deal away, compadre. Sota and cavallo! I take the knave again, and you ten doubloons against the boy on the horse.”
The doctor said not a word, but nodded assent, and seemed absorbed in the game.
“Presto! Turn the cards, you old sinner! Quick! Por dios! horse has kicked me, and the knave loses! Monsieur, the brat is yours!”
Then starting up, Captain Brand hastily pulled out his watch, and said, “Hola, caballeros, the time is up! I must say good-night.”
Don Ignaçio’s brown thin fingers, like a dentist’s steel nippers, laid down the cards, and carefully picked up his winnings, even to the smallest bit of the precious metal, and dropped it piece by piece into his long pouch, following them each with his glittering eye, like a magpie peering into a narrow-necked bottle, and smiling with his wrinkled old lips as the dull chink of the coin fell upon his ear. When he had performed this operation, he tied up the mouth of the bag as if he was choking somebody to death; and then, twitching something which was partly hidden in his sleeve, he arose in readiness to go out.
As, however, Captain Brand turned to follow his compadre, he looked carelessly toward the doctor, and said,
“By the way, monsieur, I have made up my mind with respect to our conversation to-day, and you shall remain on the island. No thanks. Adieu. Now, Don Ignaçio, if your men and boats are at the cove, we will make sharp work with your business. Vamanos!”