reast with the points
of his fingers, one of the expressive and customary gestures of his
countrymen.

"Let him be, Senor Don Paco!" yelled the ventero and his wife, greatly
alarmed at the prospect of a murder in broad daylight and at their
very threshold. "You have done enough already to send you to the
galleys. Get on your mules, and ride away before worse comes of it."

"_A los infiernos!_" shouted Paco. "As the horse now is, so shall be
the rider." And he gave a long sweep of his arm, making the bright
blade of his knife flash in the last red sun-rays like a curved line
of burnished gold. The point of the weapon passed within an inch or
two of the face of the innkeeper, who started back with a cry of
alarm. At the same moment the wrist of the Navarrese was caught in a
firm grasp by the elder of the two travellers, and the knife was
wrested from his hand. The muleteer turned like a madman upon his new
antagonist. The latter had laid aside the hat which shaded his face,
and now fixed his eyes upon the angry countenance of the Navarrese.

"Do you not know me, Paco?" said he, repulsing the first furious onset
of the muleteer.

Paco stared at him for a moment with a look of doubt and astonishment.

"Don Luis!" he at last exclaimed.

"The same," replied the stranger. "You have been too hasty, Paco, and
we expose ourselves to blame by not detaining you to answer for your
attempt on yonder soldier's life, and for the death of his horse. But
you had some provocation, and I, for one, am willing to take the risk.
Begone, and that immediately."

"I shall do your bidding, Senorito," said Paco, "were it only for old
acquaintance sake. But let that cowardly Asturian beware how he meets
me in the mountains. I have missed him once, but will answer for not
doing so again."

"And you," retorted the soldier, whom the innkeeper and a peasant had
dragged from under the dead horse, and placed upon a bench, where he
sat rubbing his legs, which were numbed and bruised by the weight that
had fallen upon them--"and you, have a care how you show yourself in
Tudela. If there is a stirrup-leather or sword-scabbard in the
garrison, I promise you as sound a beating as you ever yet received."

The Navarrese, who had returned to his mules and was busied reloading
his gun, snapped his fingers scornfully at this menace. Don Luis
walked up to him.

"Listen, Paco," said he, in a low voice, "take my advice, and avoid
this neighbourhood for a