“Carrambo!” exclaimed he who was the older, and in consequence the leader of the two, “I shouldn’t be surprised, Andres, if the ingeniero was to slip out of our clutches to-night! Not far beyond lies Content, and the owner of that ingenio is a friend of his. You remember Señor Jacob said he would be like to put up there for the night?”
“Yes,” replied Andres, “the old Judio was particular about that.”
“Well, if he gets there before we can overhaul him, there’ll be nothing done to-night. We must take our chance on the road between that and Savanna.”
“Carajo!” responded Andres, with somewhat spiteful emphasis; “if it wasn’t for them ugly pistols he carries, and that big buck nigger by his side, we might have stopped his breath before this. Supposing he gets to Savanna before we can have a talk with him? what then, compadre?”
“Then,” answered he thus godfatherly addressed, “then our lines won’t lie in pleasant places. Savanna’s a big city; and it isn’t so easy to murder a man in the street of a town as among these trees. People prowling about have tongues, where the trees haven’t; and fifty pounds, Jamaica money, a’nt much for killing a man—more especially a Custos, as they call him. Carajo! we must take care, or we may get our necks twisted for this simple trick! These Custoses are like our alcaldes—kill one, and a dozen others will spring up to prosecute you.”
“But what,” inquired Andres, who, although the younger of the two, appeared to be gifted with a greater degree of prudence than his companion—“what if we don’t find a chance—even in Savanna?”
“Then,” replied the other, “we stand a good chance of losing our fifty pounds—shabby currency as it is.”
“How that, Manuel?”
“How that? Why, because the ingeniero, once in Savanna, will take ship and travel by sea. The dueno said so. If he do that, we may bid adieu to him; for I wouldn’t make another sea-voyage for five times fifty pounds. That we had from Batabano was enough to last me for my life. Carajo! I thought it was the vomito prieto that had seized upon me. But for the fear of another such puking spell I’d have gone home with the rest, instead of staying in this nest of Jews and nigger-drivers; and how I’m ever to get back to Batabano, let alone making a voyage for the purpose of—”
The Cubano refrained from finishing his speech—not from any delicacy he had about declaring the purpose, but because he knew that the declaration would be supererogatory to an associate who already comprehended it.