"The gods were with me," answered Silencio, laughing, though Beltran noticed that his brow clouded over almost immediately. His laughter sounded false. "It is true that I have what I wished, Beltran," he continued—"the dearest blessing that any man, were he prince or noble, could ask." ("She is not half so beautiful as my Agueda," thought Beltran, while nodding acquiescence.) "I have her, she is mine; but—there is Escobeda still to be reckoned with."
"Where is he?" asked Beltran.
"I wish he were in hell," said Silencio, fiercely.
"You are not singular in that, but the result is not always the offspring of the desire. It would indeed be a blessing to send him there, but unfortunately, my boy, there is law for him in this land, though very little of it when it comes to the wrongs that you and I suffer. The question is, where is he, and when do you expect him here?"
"He went on to the government town with the steamer."
Beltran threw his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground, walking beside his young friend. He heard all that there was to tell.
"He was very ill when the steamer ran on the sand spit that night." Silencio looked narrowly at his friend. He wished to see if his share in the decoying of the steamer had been noised abroad. Beltran listened without a flicker of the eyelash.
"The doctor had given him something strong—a new thing down here, called, I believe, chloral."
"Como no!" burst forth Beltran, "if they only gave him enough."