“I’m going to pay my retinue. Then I shall present you to Pacheco.”
“To which Pacheco? To the bandit?”
“The same. He is my lieutenant.”
“The devil! Shall I be safe with you?”
“Yes; safer than if you were with the Alcalde.”
“But you keep very bad company.”
“Whom do you mean by that? Pacheco? Pacheco is an unfortunate chap. Ask any one, and they will tell you that he was forced to take to the mountain merely on account of a rooster.”
“Was that all?”
“That was all. On account of a rooster called Tumbanavíos or Tumbalobos, I don’t exactly remember which. Pacheco used to go to the cock-fighting ring in the Calle de las Doblas, and one day he got mixed up in an argument with a fellow as to the relative merits of two fighting-cocks ... and, well, they had words. Pacheco stuck a knife into the fellow, with bad results, and left him cold.... A man’s affair!” added Quentin resignedly.
“Then one of those sergeants of the guardia civil who like to stick their noses into everything, insisted upon hunting Pacheco. He gave chase to him and caught up to him; but Pacheco, seeing that the game was about up, and remembering the words of Quevedo: that it is better to be ahead by a blow in the face than by all Castile, discharged his fowling-piece at the guard. This also had bad results, for he blew his skull open and sent him to join the other fellow.”