rld. His measures had been taken with judgment.
Everything was prepared with a careful completeness. And Don Pepe folded
his hands pacifically on his sword hilt, and nodded at the priest. In
his excitement, Father Roman had flung snuff in handfuls at his face,
and, all besmeared with tobacco, round-eyed, and beside himself, had got
out of the hammock to walk about, uttering exclamations.

Don Pepe stroked his grey and pendant moustache, whose fine ends hung
far below the clean-cut line of his jaw, and spoke with a conscious
pride in his reputation.

"So, Padre, I don't know what will happen. But I know that as long as
I am here Don Carlos can speak to that macaque, Pedrito Montero, and
threaten the destruction of the mine with perfect assurance that he will
be taken seriously. For people know me."

He began to turn the cigar in his lips a little nervously, and went on--

"But that is talk--good for the politicos. I am a military man. I do not
know what may happen. But I know what ought to be done--the mine should
march upon the town with guns, axes, knives tied up to sticks--por Dios.
That is what should be done. Only--"

His folded hands twitched on the hilt. The cigar turned faster in the
corner of his lips.

"And who should lead but I? Unfortunately--observe--I have given my word
of honour to Don Carlos not to let the mine fall into the hands of these
thieves. In war--you know this, Padre--the fate of battles is uncertain,
and whom could I leave here to act for me in case of defeat? The
explosives are ready. But it would require a man of high honour,
of intelligence, of judgment, of courage, to carry out the prepared
destruction. Somebody I can trust with my honour as I can trust myself.
Another old officer of Paez, for instance. Or--or--perhaps one of Paez's
old chaplains would do."

He got up, long, lank, upright, hard, with his martial moustache and
the bony structure of his face, from which the glance of the sunken
eyes seemed to transfix the priest, who stood still, an empty wooden
snuff-box held upside down in his hand, and glared back, speechless, at
the governor of the mine.

CHAPTER SEVEN

At about that time, in the Intendencia of Sulaco, Charles Gould was
assuring Pedrito Montero, who had sent a request for his presence there,
that he would never let the mine pass out of his hands for the profit of
a Government who had robbed him of it. The Gould Concession could not
be resumed. His father ha