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Updated: June 24, 2025
Pastiri had another trick on the same order, worked with three men from a game of checkers; underneath one of the men he would place a tiny ball of paper or a crumb of bread and then bet that nobody could tell under which of the three ball or crumb was to be found. If, by accident, any one chanced upon the right man, Pastiri would conceal the crumb in his finger-nail as he turned the man up.
Now, if they would consent to act as bait to induce the inquisitive onlookers to play, he'd give them a share of the profits. "Ask him how much?" said El Bizco to Vidal. "Don't be an idiot." Pastiri explained the matter for El Bizco's benefit; the confederates were to place bets and then proclaim in a loud voice that they had won. Then he'd see to making the spectators eager to play. "All right.
We know what to do," said Vidal. "You agree to the scheme?" "Yes, man." Pastiri gave them three pesetas apiece and the four left the tavern, crossed the Ronda and made their way in the crowds of El Rastro.
Every once in a while Pastiri would stop, thinking he had caught sight of a prospective dupe; El Bizco or Manuel would place a bet; but the fellow who looked like an easy victim would smile as he saw them lay the snare or else pass on indifferently, quite accustomed to this type of trickery. Soon Pastiri noticed a group of rustics with their broad hats and short trousers.
Well, there's nothing doing," declared Valencia. "I said I want Paloma over here," repeated Pastiri, without looking at the bully. The latter pretended not to have heard.
"A big mouth with a bark worse than his bite and not worth a slap." "He was on his guard right away. In case of accident!" replied Besuguito in his queer voice, imitating the posture of one who is about to attack with a knife. "I tell you," exclaimed El Pastiri, "he's a booby, and he's scared so stiff he can't stand." "Yes, but he answered every thrust, just the same," added the lace-maker. "Yah!
Catching sight of Manuel and the other two, the fellow of the three cards approached and said: "Shall we have some wine?" "Sure." They entered one of the taverns of the Ronda. Pastiri was alone that day, as his companion had gone off to the Escorial; since he had no one to act as his confederate in the game he hadn't made a centimo.
An uproar greeted the frights of Besuguito, who continued unabashed his meaningless, repetitious chatter, which was adorned with all manner of notions and involutions. Manuel rested an arm upon the table, and with his cheek upon it, he fell asleep. "Hey you! Why aren't you drinking, Pastiri?" asked Leandro. "Do you mean to offend me? Me?"
"No, friend, I simply can't get any more down," answered the card-sharper in his insolent voice, raising his open hand to his throat. Then, in a voice that seemed to come from a broken organ, he shouted: "Paloma!" "Who's calling that woman?" demanded Valencia immediately, glaring at the group of gamblers. "I," answered El Pastiri. "I want Paloma over here." "Ah!... You?
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