ell the carabao or the next crop, two boys, brothers apparently,
follow the bettors with wistful eyes, loiter about, murmur timid words
to which no one listens, become more and more gloomy and gaze at one
another ill-humoredly and dejectedly. Lucas watches them covertly,
smiles malignantly, jingles his silver, passes close to them, and
gazing into the _Rueda_, cries out:

"Fifty, fifty to twenty on the white!"

The two brothers exchange glances.

"I told you," muttered the elder, "that you shouldn't have put up all
the money. If you had listened to me we should now have something to
bet on the red."

The younger timidly approached Lucas and touched him on the arm.

"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed the latter, turning around with feigned
surprise. "Does your brother accept my proposition or do you want
to bet?"

"How can we bet when we've lost everything?"

"Then you accept?"

"He doesn't want to! If you would lend us something, now that you
say you know us--"

Lucas scratched his head, pulled at his camisa, and replied, "Yes,
I know you. You are Tarsilo and Bruno, both young and strong. I know
that your brave father died as a result of the hundred lashes a day
those soldiers gave him. I know that you don't think of revenging him."

"Don't meddle in our affairs!" broke in Tarsilo, the elder. "That might
lead to trouble. If it were not that we have a sister, we should have
been hanged long ago."

"Hanged? They only hang a coward, one who has no money or
influence. And at all events the mountains are near."

"A hundred to twenty on the white!" cried a passer-by.

"Lend us four pesos, three, two," begged the younger.

"We'll soon pay them back double. The fight is going to commence."

Lucas again scratched his head. "Tush! This money isn't mine. Don
Crisostomo has given it to me for those who are willing to serve
him. But I see that you're not like your father--he was really
brave--let him who is not so not seek amusement!" So saying, he drew
away from them a little.

"Let's take him up, what's the difference?" said Bruno. "It's the same
to be shot as to be hanged. We poor folks are good for nothing else."

"You're right--but think of our sister!"

Meanwhile, the ring has been cleared and the combat is about to
begin. The voices die away as the two starters, with the expert who
fastens the gaffs, are left alone in the center. At a signal from
the referee, the expert unsheathes the gaffs and the fine blades