“Now, about getting inside,” says De Lara; “what will be our best way?”
“In my opinion,” answers Diaz, “we’ll do best by climbing up to the azotea, and over it into the patio.”
“Where’s your ladder?” asks Rocas, in his gruff, blunt way.
“We must find one, or something that’ll serve instead. There should be loose timber lying about the corrals—enough to provide us with a climbing-pole.”
“And while searching for it, wake up some of the vaqueros. That won’t do.”
“Then what do you propose, Rafael?” interrogates the chief conspirator.
The seal-hunter, from a presumed acquaintance with housebreaking, is listened to with attention.
“Walk straight up to the door,” he answers; “knock, and ask to be admitted.”
“Ay; and have a blunderbuss fired at us, with a shower of bullets big as billiard balls. Carrai!”
It is Calderon who speaks thus apprehensively.