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Updated: June 19, 2025
"We do," replies Gaspar, speaking for both. "In a dead right line, thank the sun for that; and I only wish we could have had it to direct us a little longer, instead of leaving us in the lurch as it has done. But go on, senorito! I oughtn't to have interrupted you." "Well," proceeds the young Paraguayan, "there's no reason why we shouldn't still travel in that same right line since we can."
"It is an ill-favoured thing," I said, "and does more harm than good, but Madre Moreno, I scarcely think will thank me for destroying it, for she always gathered its leaves for some of her medicines." "Yes, she will, Señorito Carlos; she will thank thee," said a voice behind us, and turning we saw Madre Moreno. "I had come to do the same thing myself, and thou hast saved me the labour.
Is it that you're speaking of, Gaspar?" "Ay, senorito; just that." "Surely you wouldn't eat it, would you?" "Wouldn't I? If I had one here now, you'd soon see." "But are they really good to eat?" "Good to eat! I should think they are; and if you could but taste them yourself, senorito, you'd say so.
"Besides," adds the gaucho, by way of clinching his argument, "we've got to spend part of the night somewhere, and have some sleep. If we keep on without that, it may end in our breaking dead down, which would be worse than being a little behind time. We all stand in need of rest now. Speaking for myself, I want it badly; and I'm sure so does Master Ludwig and you too, senorito!
"Oh, very different from him of Finisterra," replied Antonio. "This is a young Senorito, lately arrived from Madrid. He is not even a Gallegan. He is a mighty liberal, and it is owing chiefly to his orders that we have lately been so much on the alert. It is said that the Carlists are meditating a descent on these parts of Galicia.
So the sooner we're back to the bottom of the hill, the safer 'twill be. There we'll at least have some help from the speed of our horses, if in the end we have to run for it. Let us get below at once!" Having by this finished adjusting his bridle, he hands the rein to Cypriano, adding "You hold this, senorito, while I go after Shebotha. Botheration take that old hag!
"Just so, senorito!" rejoined the man; "that is what brings him down here." "Why, the voracious brute!" said Ivan; "you don't mean to say that he makes food of the heads of the poor negroes?" "Oh no!" replied the tigrero, smiling in his turn; "it is not that." "What then?" impatiently inquired Ivan. "I've heard of negro-head tobacco. He's not a tobacco chewer, is he?"
Then, as if having just solved it, he gives a sudden start, exclaiming: "Sangre de Crista! that's the explanation of all, the whole affair; murder, abduction, everything." His words, though only muttered, awaken Cypriano, still only half-asleep. "What is it, Gaspar?" questions the youth. "Oh, nothing, senorito; only a mosquito that took a fancy to stick its bill into the bridge of my nose.
"You have been too hasty, Paco, and we expose ourselves to blame by not detaining you to answer for your attempt on yonder soldier's life, and for the death of his horse. But you had some provocation, and I, for one, am willing to take the risk. Begone, and that immediately." "I shall do your bidding, Señorito," said Paco, "were it only for old acquaintance sake.
'Senorito, said she, and there was a rich thrill in her voice, like an organ note, 'Senorito, you are in difficulties. Suffer me to come to your assistance. With the words, she took the paper and tobacco from his unresisting hands; and with a facility that, in Desborough's eyes, seemed magical, rolled and presented him a cigarette.
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