“And did not you?” Ensign Sanchez demanded. “Did he not stand up to you at Santa Barbara?”
“Devil and Hades!” the sergeant cried. “I shall go mad! Hah! May the imps of evil, even, pity the scoundrel when I meet him! The more I think of it—Juan and Claudio, eh? Hah! Play cards for a mule? ‘Not that pack of cards, señor,’ the wretch says. ‘This is to be a game of chance, not of skill,’ he says. Fury! ‘Do you keep up your fencing practice,’ he says. I shall go mad!”
Cassara swept his naked blade in a great circle at arm’s length, and the others sprang out of his way roaring with laughter. Across the plaza stamped the irate man, stopping before the store house to lift a water jug and drink deeply.
And then a neophyte stopped before the comandante and ensign and bowed respectfully.
“Señores,” he begged, “allow me to say it is an easy matter to settle this quarrel. I am Pedro, servant at the guest house, and I swear by the saints I am a loyal neophyte and ready to die for the frailes and the señores. Moreover, I have been servant to the Señorita Anita since she has abided at the mission——”
“But the quarrel, man! How settle it?” laughed the comandante.
“This Captain Fly-by-Night boasted concerning the señorita, thus insulting her; did he not? Do you four señores fight bravely against the others—and let me kill this Fly-by-Night!”
A roar of laughter answered him. He bowed again, but did not turn away, and they saw he was sincere in his request.
“This Fly-by-Night appears to be loved with an enduring affection,” Ensign Sanchez said, sarcastically. “I suppose we must leave the matter to chance, and each of us pray the rogue falls to his blade.”