"Say it was Pedro from the mill."
"Tell him that Three Fingered Thomas passed by," muttered another, grudgingly.
"It is I, so-called Short Knife, who came to ask," explained a third, tapping the sheath of his baptismal weapon.
"How far have you come?" asked Juanita, who found these gentlemen entertaining.
"Seventeen miles from the mountain," was the reply.
"All your friends are calling to inquire after your health," said Juanita to Marcos. "They are famous brigands, and make one think fondly of the Guardia Civile. There are not many razors in the valley, and I am sure there is no soap."
"They are honest enough, though their appearance may be disquieting."
"Oh! I am not afraid of them," answered Juanita, with a shrewd and mystic smile. "It is Cousin Peligros who fears them. She scolded me for speaking to one of them on the verandah. It undermines the pedestal upon which a lady should always stand. Am I on a pedestal, Marcos?"
She looked back at him over her shoulder, through the fold of her mantilla. It was an opportunity, perhaps, which a skillful lover would have seized. Marcos was silent for a moment. Then he spoke in a repressed voice.
"If they come again," he said, "I should like to see them."