Enter the Captain wounded, and Sergeant.
Capt. It was but a scratch after all. Why on earth bring me back to this confounded place?
Serg. Who could have known it was but a scratch till ’twas cured? Would you have liked to be left to bleed to death in the wood?
Capt. Well, it is cured however: and now to get clear away before the affair gets wind. Are the others here?
Serg. Yes, sir.
Capt. Let us be off then before these fellows know; else we shall have to fight for it.
Enter Rebolledo.
Reb. Oh, sir, the magistrates are coming!
Capt. Well, what’s that to me?