Impervious to the old man's philosophy, Torres made an impatient threat of movement that he was going.
"A few pesos, just a handful of pesos," the old peon pleaded.
"Not a centavo," Torres said with finality.
"Very well," said the old man with equal finality.
"What do you mean?" Torres rasped with swift suspicion.
"Have you forgotten?" was the retort, with such emphasis of significance as to make Yi Poon wonder for what reason Torres gave the peon what seemed a pension or an allowance.
"I pay you, according to agreement, to forget," said. Torres.
"I shall never forget that my old eyes saw you stab the Senor Alfaro Solano in the back," the peon replied.
Although he remained hidden and motionless in his posture of repose behind the pillar, Yi Poon metaphorically sat up. The Solanos were persons of place and wealth. That Torres should have murdered one of them was indeed a secret of price.
"Beast! Pig without reason! Animal of the dirt!" Torres' hands clenched in his rage. "Because I am kind do you treat me thus! One blabbing of your tongue and I will send you to San Juan. You know what that means. Not only will you sleep with the terror of death, but never for a moment of waking will you be free of the terror of living as you stare upon the buzzards that will surely and shortly pick your bones. And there will be no pulque in San Juan. There is never any pulque in San Juan for the men I send there. So? Eh? I thought so. You will wait two weeks for the proper time when I shall again give you money. If you do not wait, then never, this side of your interment in the bellies of buzzards, will you drink pulque again."