“Pardon, good friend; I am sadly changed from what I once was.”
The capataz, after extinguishing the light, softly opened the door and stepped forth. Then he saw the wisdom of having put out the light, for, just turning the nearest angle, he saw a man bearing a light, and then recognized it to be none other than padre Gayferos. He only paused long enough to note that the worthy priest had imbibed such a quantity of the confiscated wine, that he was laying off a somewhat irregular pattern for a “Virginny rail fence,” and muttering incoherently to himself. Then he slipped inside the cell, and after silently locking the door, told his companion of the approaching visitor.
Canelo shuddered and shrunk back as if in fear, so great had been the tortures that he had endured at the monk’s hands, when unable to resist. But as his hand touched the knife at his waist, this vanished—the sudden change boding ill for the enemy, should he fall into the ex-prisoner’s hands.
They both stood close to the door, and soon heard the tipsy priest fumbling at the lock for some time before he could fit his key into place, cursing fearfully at every breath. But at last the bolt yielded, and he kicked the door wide open. Canelo sprung forward with a howl like a wild beast, and clutched the monk by the throat, while Tadeo grasped the lamp.
The two foes fell to the ground, and by some means the light was dashed from Tadeo’s hand, and shattered to pieces upon the rocky floor. He turned to light the other, for he could do nothing in the dark, and knew that their safety depended upon the monk’s capture without an alarm being raised. A few moments sufficed for this, but when he turned the light upon the two men, a horrible, sickening sight met his gaze.
The half-crazed Canelo was kneeling upon the breast of padre Gayferos, brandishing a gory knife in one hand, while the other clutched his victim’s throat. He had slit the unfortunate man’s mouth from ear to ear, and actually torn out his tongue by the roots, and then thrust it down his throat!
Acting on the impulse, Tadeo leaped forward and knocked Canelo from his victim’s body, and then buried his long knife to the hilt in the priest’s breast, at once putting an end to his tortures. As he turned, it was just in time to avoid the rush of Canelo, and elude the vicious plunge of a cuchillo, that slit open the clothes upon his side. Then, before the mad man could turn, he was upon his back, driving him head first to the floor; when, placing a knife at his throat, Campos hissed:
“Mil diablos, ingrate! Is that my reward for risking my life to save yours? By the Virgin of Atocha, I have a mind to serve you the same trick that you did the padre, cursed dog!”
“I was mad, good Campos, and knew not what I did. And if you only knew the tortures that man has subjected me to, you would praise not blame me. But let me up now. It has passed and I am myself again.”
“I will. But look you. If you make a motion toward me, I will plaster the wall with your brains, as I’m a living man. Do you hear?”