“Oh, indeed!” doubtingly rejoined the corporal; “and pray how did you become possessed of it, Señor Enano? A dagger worth a doblone isn’t a likely thing for such as you to be owner of—that is, in an honest way.”
“I admit, your worship, it isn’t likely. For all, I came honestly by the article. It’s an heirloom in our family; belonged to my great-great-grandfather, and’s descended through several generations. For know, Señor, my ancestors were not deformed like poor me. Some of them were gallant soldiers, as yourself. Indeed, one of them rose to the rank of sergeant—that was my mother’s grandfather; but this dagger didn’t come down from him, being left in the main line.”
“Well,” laughingly returned the corporal, after listening to the quaint chapter of explanations, “the future herald of our family won’t have to trace it beyond yourself. You’re now under our protection, and have no need to warlike weapons. So we, your protectors, will take the liberty of appropriating the historical toy. Get out the cards, Perico! Let us see whether it is to be yours or mine.”
“May bueno!” responded Perico. “How will you have the game? A single albur, or two out of three?”
“Well, as we’ve only the one stake, and no end of time for winning and losing it, we’d better make it the long game.”
“All right—come on! I have the cards spread—sota y caballo. How sweet the Queen’s face looks in the moonlight! Ah! she’s smiling at me, I know, as good as to say—‘Worthy Perico, that silver-handled weapon, your corporal tells you is worth all of an onza, will ere long be thine.’”
“Well, lay on the Queen if you like. I’ll go the Jack, with all his grinning. Now shuffle, and deal off.”
By this the two had seated themselves, vis-à-vis, just outside the verge where met moonlight and shadow, a suite of cards turned face up between them, the dealing pack in the hands of Perico. The hunchback, on his knees, with neck craned out, was a spectator; but one whose thoughts were not with his eyes. Instead, dwelling upon the valuables he had so cunningly chucked back, making the mental calculation as to how much they might be damaged by breakage, but caring less for that than the danger of their also becoming stakes in that game of monté. Could he have known what was going on behind, he would possibly have preferred it so.
The unseen spectator, though silent, was not inactive, but the reverse. From the moment of seeing himself shut up—as it were, in a pen—he had given all his thoughts to how he might escape out of it. It needed none to tell him there was no chance front-wards by the road. A rush he might make past the two soldiers, risking seizure, and surely having the bullets of their carbines sent after him. But even though he got off in that way, what would be the upshot? The hunchback would be certain to recognise him, remembering all. Knowing, too, that his dialogue with the Hussar colonel must have been overheard, he would hasten the very event which he, José, was now all anxious to provide against. The word of warning meant for those now so much needing it might reach them too late.
All these thoughts had passed through the cochero’s mind before the card-playing commenced. More, too, for he had carefully inspected the cliff overhead, so far as the light would allow, aided by groping. To his joy, he had discovered that there was a possibility of scaling it. A sharp pinnacle of rock was within reach of the swing of his halters; and skilled in the use of the laso, over this he had succeeded in flinging the head-stall of one, hooking it fast. It but remained to swarm up the rope, and he was watching for an opportunity, when glittering golden things, like a Danae’s shower, came raining against his ribs, to fall at his feet.