Pacheco took a lantern, opened the kitchen door, traversed a patio, then another, and mounting a staircase, came to a hole; it was the strawloft.
“Stretch out,” said Pacheco; “tomorrow, day will break, and the one-eyed man will see his asparagus. Good night!”
Quentin removed his boots, and in a little while was fast asleep.
In the morning a loud voice awoke him.
“Muleteers! Day’s dawning!”
Quentin sat up; the sun was pouring through the cracks in the loft; cocks were crowing. Pacheco had gone. Don Paco, seated on the straw, with a coloured handkerchief on his head, was groaning.
“What a night! My God, what a night!” Quentin heard him say.
“What! Didn’t you sleep, Don Paco?”
“Not a minute. But you slept like a log.”
“Well, let’s be going.”