“That may be.  But there are two hundred ducats on his head.  Some lancers are stationed in a place I know, a league and a half from here, and before daybreak I’ll bring a few brawny fellows back with me.  I’d have taken his horse away, but the brute’s so savage that nobody but Navarro can go near it.”

“Devil take you!” I cried.  “What harm has the poor fellow done you that you should want to inform against him?  And besides, are you certain he is the brigand you take him for?”

“Perfectly certain!  He came after me into the stable just now, and said, ’You seem to know me.  If you tell that good gentleman who I am, I’ll blow your brains out!’ You stay here, sir, keep close to him.  You’ve nothing to fear.  As long as he knows you are there, he won’t suspect anything.”

As we talked, we had moved so far from the venta that the noise of the horse’s hoofs could not be heard there.  In a twinkling Antonio snatched off the rags he had wrapped around the creature’s feet, and was just about to climb on its back.  In vain did I attempt with prayers and threats to restrain him.

“I’m only a poor man, senor,” quoth he, “I can’t afford to lose two hundred ducats—­especially when I shall earn them by ridding the country of such vermin.  But mind what you’re about!  If Navarro wakes up, he’ll snatch at his blunderbuss, and then look out for yourself!  I’ve gone too far now to turn back.  Do the best you can for yourself!”

The villain was in his saddle already, he spurred his horse smartly, and I soon lost sight of them both in the darkness.

I was very angry with my guide, and terribly alarmed as well.  After a moment’s reflection, I made up my mind, and went back to the venta.  Don Jose was still sound asleep, making up, no doubt, for the fatigue and sleeplessness of several days of adventure.  I had to shake him roughly before I could wake him up.  Never shall I forget his fierce look, and the spring he made to get hold of his blunderbuss, which, as a precautionary measure, I had removed to some distance from his couch.

“Senor,” I said, “I beg your pardon for disturbing you.  But I have a silly question to ask you.  Would you be glad to see half a dozen lancers walk in here?”

He bounded to his feet, and in an awful voice he demanded: 

“Who told you?”

“It’s little matter whence the warning comes, so long as it be good.”

“Your guide has betrayed me—­but he shall pay for it!  Where is he?”

“I don’t know.  In the stable, I fancy.  But somebody told me—­”

“Who told you?  It can’t be the old hag—­”

“Some one I don’t know.  Without more parleying, tell me, yes or no, have you any reason for not waiting till the soldiers come?  If you have any, lose no time!  If not, good-night to you, and forgive me for having disturbed your slumbers!”

“Ah, your guide!  Your guide!  I had my doubts of him at first—­but—­I’ll settle with him!  Farewell, senor.  May God reward you for the service I owe you!  I am not quite so wicked as you think me.  Yes, I still have something in me that an honest man may pity.  Farewell, senor!  I have only one regret—­that I can not pay my debt to you!”