"I have spelt them all over, I think. There is Serrano, Captain-General of Ciudad Rodrigo, and your cousin, Don Florez, who is alcalde of Cuba——"
"No, no, no!" exclaimed Pedro; "at this rate you will play the devil with me. I am Don Pedro Florez de Serrano, cousin to the Captain-General of Cuba; my late uncle was corregidor of Ciudad Rodrigo, as rich and as pious as you please."
"And you—you are——"
"A lieutenant of the Southern Navy on parole; which will account for my brown hands, and other shortcomings in the matter of gentility. You——"
"I am a most attached and faithful servant."
"A regular Sancho. You have your cue?"
"Por vida del demonio, what a game!"
"Glorioso! Vamos (come)!"
And the two rascals laughed heartily as they resumed the road that led to Santiago, chatting, and fraternally riding by turns the horse of Hawkshaw, which now, poor animal, began to droop its head and ears in weariness.