They were both in tatters; El Bizco looked grimmer and more brutish than ever. He wore an old jacket through the rents of which peered his dark skin; according to what they said, they were both on their way to the intersection of Aravaca road and the Extremadura cart-road, to a spot they called the Confessionary. They expected to meet El Cura and El Hospiciano there and rob a house.
"What do you say? Will you join us?" asked El Bizco sarcastically.
"No, I won't."
"Where are you now?"
"In a house … working."
"There's a brave fool for you! Come on, join us."
"No. I can't…. Listen, how about Vidal? Didn't you ever see him again?"
El Bizco's face turned grimmer than ever.
"I'll get even with that scoundrel. He won't escape before I carve a nice scar on his face…. But are you coming along with us or not?"
"No."