By the light of the dawn, which promised a splendid day, soldiers could now be seen dimly at the end of the street, like gray silhouettes coming and going.
“Do you know what it was?” asked a man, with a villainous face.
“Yes, the cuadrilleros.”
“No, señor, a revolt!”
“What revolt? The curate against the alférez?”
“Oh, no; nothing of that kind. It was an uprising of the Chinese.”
“The Chinese!” repeated all the listeners, with great disappointment.
“That’s why we don’t see one!”
“They are all dead!”
“I—I suspected they had something on foot!”