“What is your business?” demanded Roblado.
“Cavalleros! I wish to speak with the Comandante.”
This was delivered in the tone of one who is soon to ask a favour. It gave confidence to Vizcarra, as well as to the bolder villain—who, notwithstanding all his assurances to the contrary, had still some secret misgivings about the cibolero’s errand. Now, however, it was clear that his first conjecture was correct; Carlos had come to solicit their assistance.
“I am he!” answered Vizcarra, now quite recovered from his fright, “I am the Comandante. What have you to communicate, my man?”
“Your excellency, I have a favour to ask;” and the cibolero again saluted with an humble bow.
“I told you so,” whispered Roblado to his superior. “All safe, my colonel.”
“Well, my good fellow,” replied Vizcarra, in his usual haughty and patronising manner, “let me hear it. If not unreasonable—”
“Your excellency, it is a very heavy favour I would ask, but I hope not unreasonable. I am sure that, if it do not interfere with your manifold duties, you will not refuse to grant it, as the interest and trouble you have already taken in the cause are but too well-known.”
“Told you so,” muttered Roblado a second time.
“Speak out, man!” said Vizcarra, encouragingly; “I can only give an answer when I have heard your request.”