“See here, Quentin,” said the bandit, “you already know my ideas, and that I am more liberal than Riego. I don’t want a thing for helping along the Revolution: no money, nor any kind of a reward; I’m not going to haggle over that. What I do want is, that they will not do me a bad turn. Because those Junta fellows, and I don’t mean this gentleman, are capable of ’most any thing. I’ll go to Cordova and see what people I can count on, and I’ll do all the work there is to do; but under one condition; and that is, that all those gentlemen of the Junta will guarantee that the police will not interfere with me. That is to say, I don’t mind exposing myself to being shot, but I don’t want to get shot in the belt for nothing.”
“I have no authority—” said Don Paco, “nor the attributes....”
“You will have to take that up with the Junta,” said Quentin. “Why don’t you go, comrade?”
“No; I’m not going to Cordova.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m afraid that they have sold me, and it wouldn’t go well with the man who did it.”
“A couple of guards stopped us yonder, and told us that they were waiting for you,” said Quentin.
“Where?”
“Near the Cementerio de la Salud.”
“Well, let ’em squat,” said Pacheco, “but let us get at what we are going to do. Comrade, if you will do me the favour of seeing those Junta fellows and speaking to them, you can tell them exactly what I want. If they accept, tell El Cuervo; he’ll see to it that I receive the answer, and the next day I’ll be in Cordova.”