behind it came another figure, larger and apparently
darker than the first, but so lightly did it touch the ground that
it vanished as rapidly as though the earth had swallowed it every
time the first shadow paused and turned.

"They're following me," muttered the first figure. "Can it be the
civil-guards? Did the senior sacristan lie?"

"They said that they would meet here," thought the second shadow. "Some
mischief must be on foot when the two brothers conceal it from me."

At length the first shadow reached the gateway of the cemetery. The
three who were already there stepped forward.

"Is that you?"

"Is that you?"

"We must scatter, for they've followed me. Tomorrow you'll get the arms
and tomorrow night is the time. The cry is, 'Viva Don Crisostomo!' Go!"

The three shadows disappeared behind the stone walls. The later
arrival hid in the hollow of the gateway and waited silently. "Let's
see who's following me," he thought.

The second shadow came up very cautiously and paused as if to look
about him. "I'm late," he muttered, "but perhaps they will return."

A thin fine rain, which threatened to last, began to fall, so it
occurred to him to take refuge under the gateway. Naturally, he ran
against the other.

"Ah! Who are you?" asked the latest arrival in a rough tone.

"Who are you?" returned the other calmly, after which there followed
a moment's pause as each tried to recognize the other's voice and to
make out his features.

"What are you waiting here for?" asked he of the rough voice.

"For the clock to strike eight so that I can play cards with the
dead. I want to win something tonight," answered the other in a
natural tone. "And you, what have you come for?"

"For--for the same purpose."

"_Aba!_ I'm glad of that, I'll not be alone. I've brought cards. At
the first stroke of the bell I'll make the lay, at the second I'll
deal. The cards that move are the cards of the dead and we'll have
to cut for them. Have you brought cards?"

"No."

"Then how--"

"It's simple enough--just as you're going to deal for them, so I
expect them to play for me."

"But what if the dead don't play?"

"What can we do? Gambling hasn't yet been made compulsory among
the dead."

A short silence ensued.

"Are you armed? How are you going to fight with the dead?"

"With my fists," answered the larger of the two.

"Oh, the devil! Now I remember--the dead won't bet when there's more
than one living person,