"Si, Señor. Buen' noch', Señor."
"Buen' noch', Señor," echoed El Rey's piping voice.
"Here, Andres." From his height on the veranda floor Don Gil tossed a key to Andres. "Open the boat-house, and run the boat out upon the southern ways. The southern ways, do you hear? Those nearest the Port of Entry."
Andres looked up wonderingly.
"Ah! you are trying to think. Do not try. It is useless. Obey! that is all."
Blindly faithful, Andres, having caught the key, turned away with an "As the Señor says," and disappeared down the camino which led toward the ocean cliff.
When he reached the headland of Palmacristi he suddenly diverged from the cliff path and ran hurriedly down the bank. The boat-house stood upon a safe eminence in the middle of the sand spit, with ways running down to the water on either side. Andres set El Rey down in the warm sand, and unlocked the boat-house door. He then pushed the boat to the end of the ways. The tide was still falling; it was nearly low water. He laid the oars ready; then he arose and looked southward along the coast. Ah! There shone the signal upon Los Santos headland. Old Gremo was at his post, then. Andres raised his shoulders to his ears, turned the palms of his hands outward, and said:
"Thy labour is of no use to-night, Gremo." He then took El Rey up from his nest in the warm sand, swung the child again to his hip, and remounting the bank, proceeded on his way.
So soon as Andres had departed Don Gil entered the comidor, and going to the table, struck a bell hanging above it. Jorge Toleto lounged to the doorway, against the side of which he propped himself.
"Tell Piomba to go over to the bodega at once, and ask the padre to dine with me this evening. Piomba has little time. Tell him to be off at once."