them de yez want, misthress?--the saint, or the Howly Mother,
or both?--it's all the same to Murtagh."

The woman, observing what he was after, rushed forward, and, placing her
hands upon his, said in a kind tone:

"_No, Senor. Su proteccion necesita usted_."

"Phwhat diz she say, Raowl?"

"She says, keep them; you will need their protection yourself."

"Och, be me sowl! she's not far asthray there. I need it bad enough
now, an' a hape ov good they're likely to do me. They've hung there for
tin years--both of thim; and this nate little flask's the first raal
binifit I iver resaved from ayther of them. Thry it, Captin. It'll do
yez good."

I took the bottle and drank. It was the _chingarito_--a bad species of
_aguardiente_ from the wild aloe--and hot as fire. A mouthful sufficed.
I handed the flask to Clayley, who drank more freely. Raoul followed
suit, and the bottle came back to the Irishman.

"Your hilth, darlint!" said he, nodding to the Mexican woman. "May yez
live till _I_ wish ye dead!"

The woman smiled, and repeated, "_No entiende_."

"Och! nivir mind the tin days--we won't quarrel about that. Ye're a
swate crayteur," continued he, winking at the woman; "but sure yer
petticoats is mighty short, an' yez want a pair of stockin's bad, too;
but nivir mind--yez stand well upon thim illigant ankles--'dade ye do;
and yez have a purty little futt into the bargain."

"_Que dice_?" (What does he say?) asked the Mexican, speaking to Raoul.

"He is complimenting you on the smallness of your feet," answered the
Frenchman.

The woman was evidently pleased, and commenced cramping up what was in
fact a very small foot into its faded satin slipper.

"Tell me, my dear," continued Chane, "are yez married?"

"_Que dice_?" again asked the woman.

"He wants to know if you are married."

She smiled, waving her forefinger in front of her nose.

Raoul informed the Irishman that this was a negative answer to his
question.

"By my sowl, thin," said Chane, "I wudn't mind marryin' ye meself, an'
joinin' the thribe--that is, if they'll let me off from the hangin'.
Tell her that, Raowl."

As desired, Raoul explained his comrade's last speech, at which the
woman laughed, but said nothing.

"Silence gives consint. But tell her, Raowl, that I won't buy a pig in
a poke: they must first let me off from the hangin', de ye hear?--tell
her that."

"_El senor esta muy alegre_," (The gentleman is very merry), said