“Hold, Senor Despierto!” shouted Marcos, as he leaped forward and grasped the speaker by the shoulder. “Por todos de Santos! if you do not retract that base calumny, and say that you foully lied of one who is as pure as the holy Virgin herself, I will tear your tongue out by the roots, and force it down your throat!” he hissed, compressing his fingers until it seemed they would meet through the yielding flesh.
“Mil demonios, if you were twice my captain, you should answer for this,” gritted Estevan Despierto. “Unloose your hand, or I’ll unloosen it with a dose of steel.”
“Bah, if you looked on a knife you’d turn pale and run like a coyote!” said Marcos, as he hurled the other from his seat, half way through the crowd that had gathered around the disputants.
“Look out, Marcos; he’s drawn his cuchillo,” cautioned Planillas, as he leaped before his captain, who was prepared for the attack of his foe. “Abojo—abojo los armas (down with your weapons). Do you think there are no bodies to carve but those of your friends? Remember the Melladios!” he added.
“Peace, ’nor Planillas. He must either retract his words, and acknowledge he was lying, or not all the saints will save him from my vengeance,” calmly, but bitterly said Sayosa.
“A Despierto is not a Sayosa. He never denies his word,” sneered Don Estevan.
“Enough. Stand aside, comarados, and let us end this,” gritted Marcos, drawing his cuchillo and wrapping a frazada (a woolen cloak) around his left arm.
“H’la, senores,” called a voice from the crowd. “Fair play! let them fight upon the great table, so we can all see the sport.”
Ready for any thing that was novel, the mineros soon cleared the table, by brushing the drinking utensils upon the floor—thus proving the patrona’s prudence in abjuring crockery. A few minutes sufficed for this, and then the combatants leaped upon the table, prepared for the sport, while the spectators crowded around the arena, or stood upon the little stands by the side of the walls, eagerly staking their money upon the first wound and result of the duel.
Marcos had doffed his hat and outer jayneta, revealing a closely-fitting garment of quilted silk. A sash was tightly bound around his waist, and a handkerchief secured his long hair from falling over his face. His antagonist was prepared much like the same. They were both handsome, well-built and hardened men, but there was a peculiar look about Despierto, that could only result from dissipation and excesses, that was not visible in his adversary, and the older gamesters freely laid their money against him. They knew that in a prolonged contest he must go down before his more temperate foe.