That done, I slip the man’s trousers and shirt over my own, don his sombrero, and take his key.
“So far, well,” says Carmen, “if we only get safely through the patio and pass the guard! Put the sombrero over your face, imitate the zambo’s shuffling gait, and walk carelessly by my side, as if you were conducting me to the gate and a short way down the street. Have you your dagger! Good! Open the door and let us go forth. One word more! If it comes to a fight, back to back. Try to grasp the muskets with your left and stab with your right—upward!”
[Chapter XI.]
Out of the Lion’s Mouth.
As the short sunset of the tropics had now merged into complete darkness, we crossed the patio without being noticed; but near the gateway several soldiers of the guard were seated round a small table, playing at cards by the light of a flickering lamp.
“Hello! Who goes there?” said one of them, looking up. “Pablo, the turnkey, and a friar! Won’t you take a hand, Pablo? You won a real from me last night; I want my revenge.”
“He is going with me as far as the plaza. It is dark, and I am very near-sighted,” put in Carmen, with ready presence of mind. “He will be back in a few minutes, and then he will give you your revenge, won’t you, Pablo?”
“Si, padre, con mucho gusto,” I answered, mimicking the deep guttural of the zambo.
“Good! I shall expect you in a few minutes,” said the soldier. “Buene noche, padre!”