Pepe, under the light of the moon, counted out the
glittering contents of the purse which he had extorted from the
stranger.

"If this jewel is not false," muttered he to himself, "then I don't care
if the government never pays me. Meanwhile, I must begin to-morrow to
cry like a poor devil about the back pay. That will have a good
effect."

CHAPTER THREE.

THE ALCALDE AND HIS CLERK.

It is not known how long Pepe remained at his post to await the return
of the stranger: when the cock was heard to crow, and the aurora
appeared in the eastern horizon, the little bay of Ensenada was
completely deserted.

Then life began to appear in the village. The dark shadows of the
fishermen were seen upon the stair-like street, descending to the mole;
and the first beams of the morning lit up their departure. In a few
minutes the little flotilla was out of sight; and at the doors of the
cottages the women and children only could be seen, appearing and
disappearing at intervals.

Among these wretched hovels of the village, there was one dwelling of
greater pretensions than the rest. It was that of the alcalde, Don
Ramon Cohecho of whom we have already spoken. It alone still kept its
doors and windows closed against the morning light.

It was full day, when a young man, wearing a high-crowned beaver hat,--
old, greasy and shining, like leather--walked up to the door of the
alcalde's mansion. The limbs of this individual were scantily covered
with a pair of pantaloons, so tightly fitting as to appear like a second
skin to his legs, so short as scarce to touch his ankles, and of such
thin stuff as to ill protect the wearer from the sharp air of a November
morning. The upper half of this individual was not visible. A little
cloak, of coarse shaggy cloth, known as an _esclavina_, covered him up
to the very eyes. In the manner in which he so carefully guarded the
upper part of his person with this pinched mantle, at the expense of his
thighs and legs, an observer might have supposed that he was perfectly
content with his pantaloons. Appearances, however, are often deceptive;
for in truth the ambition of this youth; whose unsteady glance,
miserable aspect, and a certain smell of old papers about him,
proclaimed to be _un escribano_--his everyday dream was to have a pair
of pantaloons entirely different from his own--in other words, a pair
with long ample legs, of good wide waist, and made out of fine
broadcloth. Suc