"Then I'll get you the key. Pietro has it."
"The Red-beard?"
"Yes. Pietro is my friend. He is not so bad as some of the other men."
"They must be a sorry lot," decided Chesty. "Come on, then, Chica; I'll help you to interview Pietro."
The man was sitting on a rock nursing his grievances.
"The key, Pietro," said Chica.
"No," he answered surlily.
"I want it, Pietro."
"He'll whip me. But then, he'll whip me anyhow, for not to stop his 'guests.' Take the key, Chica. Pah! a few lashes. Who care?"
He tossed the key upon the ground at her feet and Chesty promptly picked it up. The girl looked hard at Red-beard.