“Bah!” said Miguel. “Hadn’t you saved his first? If it hadn’t been for you wouldn’t he be over there now?” jerking his thumb towards the water.
“Well, he said we were quits. I saved him and he saved me.”
“Just his mean, sneaking way,” said Miguel, with a show of indignation. “If you hadn’t saved his life, yours would never have been in danger. Saved your life! As if it were any more than he ought to have done! Bah! the little priestling!”
It was a very plausible argument and it had weight with Juan. So Diego was ungrateful then! And that was always the way with your honest folk! All right then! The more he reflected on it, the more bitter he was, and Miguel, seeing how it was working, kept a discreet silence.
“Yes,” said Juan, presently, “that is how it is. Once you are sent to jail, it doesn’t matter how sorry you are for what you have done, the honest folks won’t let you be anything else but a jail-bird. Why, he stole something, himself; I was there when his cousin, Martin Alonzo, said so.”
“And so was I,” said Miguel. “A pretty fellow, he, to hold his head up and curl his lip at you.”
“Ah,” said Juan, angrily, “my turn may come yet!”
“And so it will, little brother,” said Miguel, in a whisper, “if you will do as I bid you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am half afraid to tell you,” said Miguel, as if hesitating.