“True,” returned the other musingly. “There seems no help for it. It’s our fate, old comrade, though one, I trust, we shall be able to control without turning highwaymen. I don’t think they are that. I can’t believe it.”
“Nor me neyther. One thing, howsomever, thet I hev obsarved air a leetle queery, an’ sort o’ in thar favour.”
“What thing?”
“Thar not hevin’ any weemen among ’em. I war in the kitchen this mornin’ ’fore ye war up, and kedn’t see sign o’ a petticoat about, the cookin’ bein’ all done by men sarvents. Thet, I’ve heern say, air the way wi’ monks; but not wi’ the other sort. What do you make o’t, Cap?”
“I hardly know, Cris. Possibly the Mexican brigands, unlike those of Italy, don’t care to encumber themselves with a following of the fair sex.”
“On t’other hand,” pursued the Texan, “it seems to contrary their bein’ o’ the religious sort, puttin’ out sentries as they do. Thar wor that one we passed last night, and this mornin’ I seed two go out wi’ guns, one takin’ each side, and soon arter two others comin’ in as if they’d been jest relieved from thar posts. Thar’s a path as leads down from both sides o’ the building.”
“All very strange, indeed,” said Kearney. “But no doubt we shall soon get explanation of it. By the way,” he added, changing tone with the subject, “where is the dwarf? What have they done with him?”
“That I can’t tell eyther, Cap. I haven’t seen stime o’ the critter since he war tuk away from us by that head man o’ the sarvents, and I don’t wish ever to set eyes on the skunk again. Cris Rock niver was so tired o’ a connexshun as wi’ thet same. Wagh!”
“I suppose they’ve got him shut up somewhere, and intend so keeping him—no doubt for good reasons. Ah! now we’re likely to hear something about the disposal of ourselves. Yonder comes the man who can tell us!”
This, as the soi-disant Abbot was seen approaching along the path.