He sat down by the picador, still holding his carbine, which he placed between his knees.
"Get along further up, my lad," said he, pushing Potaje with his body.
The picador, who treated him with rough comradeship, replied by another push, and the two men laughed as they pushed each other, amusing the whole table with their rough horseplay.
"But curse you!" said the picador. "Put your gun away from between your knees. Don't you see it is pointing at me, and an accident might happen?"
Certainly the bandit's carbine, standing between his legs, was pointing its black muzzle towards the picador.
"Put it down, man!" insisted the latter. "Do you want it to eat with?"
"It is all right as it is. There is no fear," replied the bandit shortly, frowning, as if he would not admit of any remark as to his precautions.
He seized a spoon, took a large piece of bread and looked round at the others, to make sure, with his rural courtesy, if the proper time for beginning had arrived.
"Your health, Señores!" and without more ado he attacked the enormous dish which had been placed in the middle of the table for him and the toreros. Another equally large dish smoked further down for the farm people.