Carro de Bodegat, tempted to quarrel with the nature of the news, leaned towards Dubois, and pointed out the red bundle Bertrand carried on his saddle.
“I’ll swear the fellow is playing tricks with us.”
“Well, try him.”
“Let him open that bundle.”
Carro de Bodegat’s sharp eyes had picked out the gold thread-work on the scarlet cloth, and a patch of purplish ooze on the under side thereof.
“Friend, do you carry your food there?”
“Where, sir?”
“There, in that bundle.”
Bertrand held the thing up by its knotted ends.
“Devil take it, the cider bottle has had a knock!”