“Open, you divil,” he said. He gave it a good clout with the hammer and cracked the catch across; a piece of metal fell with a clink upon the floor.
“Now I’ve done it,” he said, “I’ve broken the beastly thing.”
“You were just a little rough with it, weren’t you?”
“Yes; but who would have thought the metal would have cracked like that? It would have been dangerous work firing a thing as weak as that.”
“You have your pearl-handled pistol.”
“Yes, but the worst of it is, I’m afraid it won’t take these cartridges. I meant to have bought some for it only this afternoon, but like an ass I forgot.”
“Then we haven’t any firearms?”
“None that we can fire. We could use them as bluffs. And there’s a machete here, that Ramón cuts vines with.”
“Very well, then. Take that. Now, light up a torch and let us start.”
They rolled up some copies of La Nacion as torches and lit one of them while they examined the outer steps. They called loudly, “Tia Eusebia! Ho, Tia Eusebia!” but had no reply. They came down the steps into the drive, by the light of the flaming newspapers, which Margaret lit one by one as they proceeded. Small things crossing their track, scared by the light, reassured them, since their presence showed that no strangers had passed that way recently. It was dark night now. The shrubbery through which they passed glistened like a lot of eyes. The depth of the wood beyond was so ugsome, that it was a pleasure to them to turn the curve in the drive and see the light from the open door of the lodge.