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"De yez think, Raowl, she's gone after the licker?" "I am sure of it," answered the Frenchman. In a few minutes the woman returned, and, drawing a small flask out of the folds of her rebozo, handed it to Chane. The Irishman commenced undoing the string that carried his "relics." "Which ov them de yez want, misthress? the saint, or the Howly Mother, or both? it's all the same to Murtagh."
"Tell her, Raowl, I've got no money, becase I have been rabbed, de ye see? but I'll give her ayther of these saints for the smallest thrifle of agwardent;" and he pulled the images out of his jacket as he spoke.
But tell her, Raowl, that I won't buy a pig in a poke: they must first let me off from the hangin', de ye hear? tell her that." "I say, Raowl, does she consint?" "She hasn't made up her mind yet." "By the holy vistment! thin it's all up wid Murt. The saints won't save him. Take another dhrap, Raowl!"
"By my sowl, thin," said Chane, "I wudn't mind marryin' ye meself, an' joinin' the thribe that is, if they'll let me off from the hangin'. Tell her that, Raowl." As desired, Raoul explained his comrade's last speech, at which the woman laughed, but said nothing. "Silence gives consint.
"Och! git out wid you! Bad luck to yer picther! In tin days it's Murtagh Chane that'll ayther be takin' his tay in purgathory or atin' betther than black banes in some other part of the world." "No entiende," repeated the Mexican as before. "Tin days, indade! Sure we'd be did wid hunger in half the time. We want the banes now." "Que quiere?" "Phwhat's that he sez, Raowl?" inquired Chane sharply.
"It's diffirint intirely from a Mexican piece, and not like our own nayther. It's a way he has in loadin' it." "Well what of that?" "Why, Raowl says one of them axed him who fired. Now, I heerd a shot, for my ear was close till the door here. It was beyant like; but I cud swear upon the blissed crass it was ayther the sargint's rifle or another as like it as two pays." "It is very strange!"
"I'm chokin'," said the latter, after a pause; "ask him for wather, Raowl sure he can't deny that, with that purty little sthrame boilin' up undher our noses, as clear as the potteen of Ennishowen." Raoul asked for water, which we all needed. Our throats were as dry as charcoal. The Mexican made a sign to one of the women, who shortly came up with an earthen jar filled with water.
The woman, observing what he was after, rushed forward, and, placing her hands upon his, said in a kind tone: "No, Senor. Su proteccion necesita usted." "Phwhat diz she say, Raowl?" "She says, keep them; you will need their protection yourself." "Och, be me sowl! she's not far asthray there. I need it bad enough now, an' a hape ov good they're likely to do me.
"I say, my little darlint," said he, winking, and touching her lightly under the ribs with his outstretched palm, "my little moochacha that's what they call thim isn't it, Raowl?" "Muchacha? oh yes!" "Well, thin, my purty little moochacha, cudn't yez? ye know what I mane cudn't yez? Och! ye know well enough only a little jist a mouthful to take the cowld taste aff the wather."
"He says he don't understand you." "Thin spake to him yerself, Raowl. Till him we want more banes, and a few more ov thim pancakes, if he plazes." Raoul translated the Irishman's request. "No I is that phwhat ye say, my darlint? Well, iv yez won't go yerself, sind somebody else; it's all the same thing, so yez bring us the ateables." "No entiende" said the man, with the same shake of the head.
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