Tarsilo did not reply, but, with wide-open eyes, looked around him as if in search of some one.
“There he is talking with Pedro,” added Bruno. “He is giving him money—what a lot of money!”
Tarsilo remained silent and thoughtful. With the arm of his camisa, he wiped away the sweat which formed in drops on his forehead.
“Brother,” said Bruno, “I am decided, even if you are not. The lásak ought to win and we ought not to lose the opportunity. I want to bet on the next fight. What does it matter? Thus, we will avenge our father.”
“Wait!” said Tarsilo to him, and looked him in the eyes. Both were pale. “I am with you. You are right. We will avenge our father.”
He stopped, however, and again wiped away the perspiration.
“Why do you stop?” asked Bruno impatiently.
“Do you know what fight is the next one? Is it worth the trouble?”
“What! Haven’t you heard? Captain Tiago’s lásak against Captain Basilio’s bulik. According to the run of luck, the lásak ought to win.”
“Ah! The lásak. I would bet ... but let us make sure first.”