“About an hour ago. Perhaps a little less.”
“Carrambo! You must have been there at the time I left the saloon. You saw me go out?”
“Every one saw you. More than one remarked it as strange.”
“Why strange, señor?”
“It is not usual for a player to run away from such luck as you had—without a very powerful motive. Something of the kind carried you off, I presume?”
“Par Dios! Not much of that. Only a little errand that required punctuality. I executed it; and was on my way back, when these picarones attacked me. Thanks to you, sir, it may still be in my power to gain another onza or two; which I intend doing, if the luck has not been drawn out of me along with these drops of blood. But come, caballero! are you going back yourself? ’Tis not too late to have another albur.”
“I shall go with you, to see whether you’ve received any wounds that require looking after.”
“Thanks, thanks! They’re nothing; else I should have thought of them before now. No doubt they’re scarce worth dressing. A little soap and water will set them all right. Are we to leave him here?”
“If dead, yes. He don’t deserve even the scant honour of being carried upon a stretcher.”
“You are not partial to your red-hatted associates?”