Manuel, Vidal and El Bizco made their way across the Plaza del Rastro to Embajadores Street.
El Bizco had four pesetas, Manuel six and Vidal fourteen.
"And what are we going to return to that guy?" asked El Bizco.
"Return? Nothing," answered Vidal.
"Why, that would be robbing him of his whole year's profits," objected
Manuel.
"What of it? Deuce take him," retorted Vidal. "We came darn near getting caught ourselves, with nothing for our trouble."
It was lunch hour and they wondered where to go; Vidal settled it, saying that as long as they were on Embajadores Street, the Society of the Three, in plenary session, might as well continue on the way down till they got to La Manigua restaurant.
The suggestion was accepted and the associates spent that Sunday afternoon in royal fashion; Vidal was splendid, spending Pastiri's money right and left, inviting several girls to their table and dancing all the chulo steps.
To Manuel this beginning of his free life seemed not at all bad. At night the three comrades, somewhat the worse for wine, ambled up Embajadores Street, turning into the surrounding road.
"Where am I going to sleep?" asked Manuel.