He pushed the boy from him, and then regarded him as if sorry he had not been more liberal with his blows. The boy shook himself and gave back to the exasperated gardener a glance as angry as his own. But that was only the first impulse; the second followed close on its heels and turned the anger into mischief. The lad cast a swift glance at his comrades, who stood by, smothering their mirth, and then looked with exaggerated innocence at the irate gardener.
“Think twice, did you say, Fray Antonio,” asked the boy, “ere I set foot to the ground? Is it one of the rules of the order? Or is it a rule you, only, go by? And would it not cause one to go with a singular, halting gait? As thus—he raised a foot and held it suspended—”I think once, I think twice, and down she goes. Now the other. I think once, I think twice. Oh, but that is rare and dignified, Fray Antonio, though I misdoubt those boys be laughing at me.”
“I will have a word with Fray Bartolomeo,” stuttered the angry gardener.
“Gracias for that,” said the boy; “and I beg you to expound the thing to him, lest, when he calls me and I go in this new fashion to him, he may misjudge me. Do I catch the motion, good Fray Antonio?”
He walked towards his convulsed comrades with an absurd, halting step.
“Ah,” said Fray Antonio, with a grim, angry humor of his own, “you will catch the motion, doubt it not, when you dance to the music of the scourge. I will see to that, Diego Pinzon, I will see to that.”
“He means to do it, Diego,” said one of the boys, looking where the angry brother went.
“Why, of course he means to do it,” said Diego, “and Fray Bartolomeo will ask no better than to ply the scourge over my back. I might indeed ask him to think twice ere he let the scourge fall, but I doubt if he will be as ready as I was to act on the hint.”
“You may well doubt it,” laughed one of the boys.