Señor Zorro laughed not unpleasantly, but he did not take his eyes from Gonzales.
"Most certainly I have not come to surrender," he said. "I am on business, señor."
"Business?" Gonzales queried.
"Four days ago, señor, you brutally beat a native who had won your dislike. The affair happened on the road between here and the mission at San Gabriel."
"He was a surly dog and got in my way! And how does it concern you, my pretty highwayman?"
"I am the friend of the oppressed, señor, and I have come to punish you."
"Come to—to punish me, fool? You punish me? I shall die of laughter before I can run you through! You are as good as dead, Señor Zorro! His excellency has offered a pretty price for your carcass! If you are a religious man, say your prayers! I would not have it said that I slew a man without giving him time to repent his crimes. I give you the space of a hundred heart-beats."
"You are generous, señor, but there is no need for me to say my prayers."
"Then must I do my duty," said Gonzales, and lifted the point of his blade. "Corporal, you will remain by the table, and the men, also. This fellow and the reward he means are mine!"