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"Carramba!" exclaimed the latter in a tone which he tried in vain to render agreeable. "It was certainly worth while to send me to catch sea-fish upon the borders of the Mediterranean, so that, at the end of my journey, I might, three thousand leagues from Spain, fall in with the nephew whose mother you murdered.
"Take them back to Havana and let them be sent from there?" asked the captain. "No," said the lieutenant, quietly. "That will not do; for the government has pledged its word that they shall be on the ships by daybreak. To make haste is very important." "But what else?" "Give them your small boat." "Carramba! I haven't got but one! And how will I ever get it back?"
Thus run his reflections as will be seen, touching near the truth: "Carramba! I can think of but one man in all the world who had an interest in the death of my dear master. One there was who'd have given a good deal to see him dead that's El Supremo. No doubt he searched high and low for us, after we gave him the slip. But then, two years gone by since!
You also know it now, and even better than ourselves, since unhesitatingly, and without losing an instant, you have appropriated to yourself, between what you call a heap and what you have already collected, carramba enough to build a church to your patron saint." Cuchillo, at the recollection of the imprudence he had been guilty of, and at this indirect attack, felt his legs give way under him.
There are some of them now near, who have come to take me home to my friends. You must have friends too, whom you left long ago. Why should you not go back to them?" "Carramba!" he cries out, as if the sound of his native tongue had brought back to remembrance one of its most common exclamations, and along with it a desire to return to the place where he last heard it spoken. "Why should I not?
"Upon my word, Don Estevan," replied Despilfarro, "you are cruel to mystify one in this manner. I I Carramba! it is very embarrassing." Don Estevan interrupted him. This hesitation on the part of Despilfarro told the Spaniard what he wished to know. An ironical smile played upon his lips, and laying aside his pleasantry, he resumed in a serious tone: "Listen to me, Tragaduros!
The old lady sloshes water on you while you're playing monte here, so you yell Carramba or something, and kick at her. You don't land on her, of course, but her son rushes up and grabs your arm here, do it this way." Baird demonstrated. "Grab his wrist with one hand and his elbow with the other and make as if you broke his arm across your knee-you know, like you were doing joojitsey.
No; she mustn't see him thus, and sha'n't if I can help it. I'll stop here till it's dark, and, meanwhile, think about the best way of breaking it to her. Carramba! that will be a scene! I could almost wish myself without eyes, rather than witness it. Ah! me! It'll be enough painful to listen to their lamentations."
"Carramba!" muttered the horseman as he eyed the man on the serape, "if I wasn't sure that he is the gentleman I have been sent to meet, I should believe that I had chanced upon a very unlucky acquaintance." At the same instant he upon the ground said to himself
There will be few men so bold now as to make war with that blue-eyed hombre; but José is a fool, when his will is crossed. Me, I fight yes, and love the heat of fighting in my blood; but I do not bellow threats before, as José has been doing. Carramba!
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