“You mistake—I have another: else I shouldn’t have risked falling into the hands of those damnable Americanos, who might take a fancy to send one of their infernal bullets through my own carcass.”
“What other errand? What want you with me? I am sore wounded—I believe I am dying.”
“First, as I’ve told you—to make sure that you are dying; and secondly, if that be the case, to learn before you do die, what you have done with Lola.”
“Never. Dead or living, you shall not know from me. Go, go! por amor Dios! do not torment a poor wretch in his last moments.”
“Bah! Calros Vergara, listen to reason. Remember, we were boys together—scourged in the same school. Your time’s up; you can’t protect Lola any more. Why hinder me—I who love her as my own life? I’m not so bad as people say, though I am accused of an inclination for the road. That’s the fault of the bad government we’ve got. Come! don’t leave the world like a fool; and Lola without a protector. Tell me where you’ve hidden her—tell me that, and the n—”
“No! no! Leave me, Rayas! leave me! If I am to die, let me die in peace.”
“You won’t tell me?”
“No—no—”
“Never mind, then; I’ll find out in time, and no thanks to you. So, go to the devil, and carry your secret along with you. If Lola be anywhere within the four corners of Mexico, I’ll track her up. She don’t escape from Rayas the salteadur!”
I could hear a rustling among the hushes: as if the last speaker, having delivered his ultimatum, was taking his departure from the spot.