“Promised to let him go!  So I did, and I will be as good as my word,” returned Griscelli, grimly, as he uncocked his pistol.  “Yes, he shall go.”

“Now?”

“No.  To-night.  Meet me, both of you, near the old sugar-mill on the savanna when the moon rises; and give him a good supper, Guzman; he will need it.”

CHAPTER XVI.

THE AZUFERALES.

“What is General Griscelli’s game?  Does he really mean to let me go, or is he merely playing with me as a cat plays with a mouse?” I asked Guzman, as we sat at supper.

“That is just the question I have been asking myself.  I never knew him let a prisoner go before, and I know of no reason why he should treat you more leniently than he treats others.  Do you?”

“No.  He is more likely to bear me a grudge,” and then I told Guzman what had befallen at Salamanca.

“That makes it still less probable that he will let you go away quietly.  Griscelli never forgives, and to-day’s fiasco has put him in a devil of a temper.  He is malicious, too.  We have all to be careful not to offend him, even in trifles, or he would make life very unpleasant for us, and I fear he has something very unpleasant in store for you.  You may depend upon it that he is meditating some trick.  He is quite capable of letting you go as far as the bridge, and then bringing you back and hanging you or fastening you to the tail of a wild mustang or the horns of a wild bull.  That also would be letting you go.”

“So it would, in a fashion! and I should prefer it to being hanged.”

“I don’t think I would.  The hanging would be sooner over and far less painful.  And there are many other ways—­he might have your hands tied behind your back and cannon-balls fastened to your feet, and then leave you to your own devices.”

“That would not be so bad.  We should find some good soul to release us, and I think I could contrive to untie Carmen’s bonds with my teeth.”

“Or he might cut off your ears and put out your eyes—­”

“For Heaven’s sake cease these horrible suggestions!  You make my blood run cold.  But you cannot be serious.  Is Griscelli in the habit of putting out the eyes of his prisoners?”

“Not that I am aware of; but I have heard him threaten to do it, and known him to cut off a rebel’s ears first and hang him afterward.  All the same I don’t think he is likely to treat you in that way.  It might get to the ears of the captain-general, and though he is not very particular where rebels are concerned, he draws the line at mutilation.”

“We shall soon see; we have to be at the old sugar-mill when the moon rises,” I said, gloomily, for the prospect held out by Guzman was anything but encouraging.

“And that will be soon.  If I see any way of helping you, without compromising myself, I will.  Hospitality has its duties, and I cannot forget that you have fought and bled for Spain.  Have another drink; you don’t know what is before you?  And take this knife—­it will serve also as a dagger—­and this pocket-pistol.  Put them where they will not be seen.  You may find them useful.”