I bent down and whispered, hoarsely:
“Tortillas, frijoles, aqua—aqua, tortillas, frijoles,” and varied the menu a few more times. It was enough—the torture, or something else, caused him to utter a groan; but I have often thought since that Cerberus never fully appreciated the terrible nature of my revenge.
Some men are invulnerable to a joke.
Having satisfied my curiosity, and looked upon the pirate in adversity, I signified to Robbins that now I was willing to go on.
Other things awaited my attention; there seemed to be tremendous events trembling in the balance, in which I was to have a share, but just what these were, or what my interest in them might amount to, I could not yet understand.
We now proceeded to leave the subterranean quarters of the alcalde’s place, nor was I overcome by any serious regrets.
The upper world always had more charms in my eyes—I was never intended to work in a colliery or the salt mines in Siberia, to which political offenders were wont to be sent; one survey of these latter under official guidance had been quite enough for me.
How vividly I remembered my former escapade in these ancestral halls, and how we had carried the fort by storm; would the same good fortune attend our present venture?
The chances were fair—Robbins had made some powerful friends, and this time we might rely upon it that the whole of Bolivar would not have to be reckoned with in our flight.
I was really glad Robbins assumed charge of the expedition; he was a born leader, whom opportunity had as yet failed to seek out with sufficient frequency.