“There’s no danger,” replied the other, “if you keep from the road. Your people have already reached El Plan, and are preparing to attack the Pass of the Cerro. ‘El Cojo,’ they say, has twenty thousand men to defend it.”
During this dialogue, which was carried on in whispers, I had noticed the little padre shifting about uneasily in his seat. At its conclusion he rose up, and bidding our host “buenas noches,” was about to withdraw, when Lincoln, who had been quietly eyeing him for some time with that sharp, searching look peculiar to men of his kidney, jumped up, and, placing himself before the door, exclaimed in a drawling, emphatic tone:
“No, yer don’t!”
“Qué cosa?” (What’s the matter?) asked the padre indignantly.
“Kay or no kay—cosser or no cosser—yer don’t go out o’ hyur afore we do. Rowl, axe yur friend for a piece o’ twine, will yer?”
The padre appealed to our host, and he in turn appealed to Raoul. The Mexican was in a dilemma. He dared not offend the curé, and on the other hand he did not wish to dictate to his old comrade Raoul. Moreover, the fierce hunter, who stood like a huge giant in the door, had a voice in the matter; and therefore José Antonio had three minds to consult at one time.
“It ain’t Bob Linkin ’d infringe the rules of hospertality,” said the hunter; “but this hyur’s a peculiar case, an’ I don’t like the look of that ’ar priest, nohow yer kin fix it.”
Raoul, however, sided with the contrabandista, and explained to Lincoln that the padre was the peaceable curé of the neighbouring village, and the friend of Don Antonio; and the hunter, seeing that I did not interpose—for at the moment I was in one of those moods of abstraction, and scarcely noticed what was going on—permitted the priest to pass out. I was recalled to myself more by some peculiar expression which I heard Lincoln muttering after it was over than by the incidents of the scene itself.
The occurrence had rendered us all somewhat uneasy; and we resolved upon swallowing our suppers hastily, and, after pushing forward some distance, to sleep in the woods.
The tortillas were by this time ready, and the pretty Jesusita was pouring out the chocolate; so we set to work like men who had appetites.