"What will you take to join us? We are on our way north, perhaps as far as the Basque Provinces. I see you have been in the business, and we shall do well in the North. What will you take, I say?"
Archy looked at the man as if he were crazy, but in half a minute he began to see the matter in a new light. To the North—to the French frontier; that would be quicker and better than waiting indefinitely in Madrid. And if it leaked out that he had come from Gibraltar he was sure to be regarded with suspicion by the Madrid authorities.
"How long do you expect to be on the road?" he asked, under the influence of these new ideas.
"About two weeks. We shall only give performances in the large villages and towns. We want to reach Vitoria and St.-Jean-de-Luz by the middle of January, as they have festas about that time; and then we can come southward again before the Carnival. What will you take, I say?"
"How many of you are there?"
"Myself and my wife—she tells fortunes; Juan, who does the tight-rope; and Luis and his wife—they are all. What will you take for your services?"
"One-eighth of the receipts," said Archy, not knowing in the least whether he was making a good bargain or not, except that here was a chance to reach the frontier.
"Done!" cried the manager, joyfully.
Archy went up to Don Miguel and told him what he had done. An inscrutable smile came into the old man's face.
"Do as you like," he said; "I shall not betray you. On the contrary, I will give you Spanish money for your English money, and this—for I see you have no weapon." He fumbled about in the coach and produced a pistol, singularly small for those days. "This looks like a toy, but it is not; it was made and given me as a curiosity."