“No comprendo” (I do not understand).
It was Paganel’s turn now to be amazed. He pushed his spectacles right down over his nose, as if greatly irritated, and said,
“I’ll be hanged if I can make out one word of his infernal patois. It is Araucanian, that’s certain!”
“Not a bit of it!” said Glenarvan. “It was Spanish he spoke.”
And addressing the Patagonian, he repeated the word, “ESPANOL?” (Spanish?).
“Si, si” (yes, yes) replied the Indian.
Paganel’s surprise became absolute stupefaction. The Major and his cousin exchanged sly glances, and McNabbs said, mischievously, with a look of fun on his face, “Ah, ah, my worthy friend; is this another of your misadventures? You seem to have quite a monopoly of them.”
“What!” said Paganel, pricking up his ear.
“Yes, it’s clear enough the man speaks Spanish.”
“He!”