"Yes," answered Bob, with eager haste. "Hung on the same tree under which he lies buried."
"Well, if you will have it so, we'll see what can be done for you. We'll call a jury of the neighbours together to-morrow."
"Thank ye, squire," murmured Bob, visibly comforted by this promise.
"We'll summon a jury," repeated the Alcalde, "and see what can be done for you. You'll perhaps have changed your mind by that time."
I stared at him like one fallen from the clouds, but he did not seem to notice my surprise.
"There is, perhaps, another way to get rid of your life, if you are tired of it," he continued. "We might, perhaps, hit upon one that would satisfy your conscience."
Bob shook his head. I involuntarily made the same movement.
"At any rate, we'll hear what the neighbours say," added the judge.
Bob stepped up to the judge, and held out his hand to bid him farewell. The other did not take it, and turning to me, said—"You had better stop here, I think."
Bob turned round impetuously.