“It is a thing of bad luck; who may gain may lose. You have proved me a man; you cannot deny that.”
“How have I to deny it? The truth is that you have much courage. Let me bind your hand with this cloth to see if the blood can be staunched.”
Saying this Roque wrapped the hand with his great kerchief.
“Where do you desire that I take you?” he asked. “You cannot go alone.”
“Go and leave me; do not let them take you prisoner,” replied Panfilo.
“Though they take me to jail, I will not leave you.”
“Well, then, help me to get near to Chopo. When we are within sight of the hacienda save yourself.”
“Wherever you wish; let us walk along.”
They started. Panfilo advanced with difficulty; he murmured and suffered with thirst. He stopped frequently to drink in the arroyos and Roque gave him water in the hollow of his hand.
“Friend,” he said, “it gives me sorrow to see you so injured.”