it. And now you're here, what do you expect,
pray?"

"Not much o' good from sich a scoundrel as you," responded Rock, in a
tone of reckless defiance.

"What! No good from me! An old acquaintance--friend, I ought rather to
call myself, after the little scene that passed between us on the shores
of Pontchartrain. Come, gentlemen! Being here among strangers you
should think yourselves fortunate in finding an old comrade of the
filibustering band; one owing you so many obligations. Ah! well; having
the opportunity now, I shall try my best to wipe out the indebtedness."

"You kin do your darndest," rejoined Rock in the same sullen tone. "We
don't look for marcy at your hands nosomever. It ain't in ye; an if 't
war, Cris Rock 'ud scorn to claim it. So ye may do yur crowing on a
dunghill, whar there be cocks like to be scared at it. Thar ain't neery
one o' that sort hyar."

Santander was taken aback by this unlooked-for rebuff. He had come to
the Acordada to indulge in the luxury of a little vapouring over his
fallen foes, whom he knew to be there, having been informed of all that
had befallen them from Mier up to Mexico. He expected to find them
cowed, and eager to crave life from him; which he would no more have
granted than to a brace of dogs that had bitten him. But so far from
showing any fear, both prisoners looked a little defiant; the Texan with
the air of a caged wolf seeming ready to tear him if he showed but a
step over the threshold of the cell.

"Oh! very well," he returned, making light of what Rock had said. "If
you won't accept favours from an old, and, as you know, tried friend, I
must leave you so without them. But," he added, addressing himself more
directly to Kearney:

"You, Senor Irlandes--surely you won't be so unreasonable?"

"Carlos Santander," said the young Irishman, looking his _ci-devant_
adversary full in the face, "as I proved you not worth thrusting with my
sword, I now pronounce you not worth words--even to call you coward,--
though that you are from the crown of your head to the soles of your
feet. Not even brave when your body is encased in armour. Dastard! I
defy you."

Though manifestly stung by the reminder, Santander preserved his
coolness. He had this, if not courage--at least a knack of feigning it.
But again foiled in the attempt to humble the enemy, and, moreover,
dreading exposure in the eyes of the gaol-governor--an old _militario_--
should the story of