"While I assisted the trembling Pedro to restrap the portmanteaus, and put the mules in order, a colloquy was proceeding between Darby Crogan, and the Spaniard whom he had levelled when the fray first began.
"'Silence, now,' I heard him say, while striking the butt of his carbine to shake the priming; 'it will soon be all over wid ye; so die aisy--do, and don't be bothering me.'
"'Ay, por amor de Dios, Señor Inglese,' implored the Spaniard on his knees.
"'Señor Inglese, indeed!' said Darby, testily, as the aquardiente mounted into his brain; 'is it an Englishman you'd call me, you rascally Spaniard, and I, praise God! a dacent Irishman, like my father and mother before me?'
"'Dragon, is it, now! I have a name, Mr. Spaniard, as good as your own, for lack of a better, and that is Darby Crogan, ould Widda Crogan's boy, at the four cross roads, near the bog of ----; but what am I prating about? To make a long story short, prepare for your wooden surtoo, and make a clane breast you spalpeen of the earth, you!'
"'Come, come, Darby,' said I, 'let him go; he is only a poor rascal of a Murcian.'
"'It's only makin' game of him I am, your honour; but sure I am that his being, as you say, a marchent won't make him feel dyin' a bit more,' replied Darby, uncocking his carbine with an air of discontent. 'Richly he desarves to die, for he fired his pistols at me twice; the curse of Cromwell be on him!'
"'Away now,' said I, pointing to the wood; 'vayan usted con Dios, or demonic, if it suits you better; and see, villain, that we meet no more!'
"With a dark gleam in his eye the disarmed robber slunk away, and I saw that his face, where not streaked with blood from Darby's sword cut, was ghastly pale with hate, fear, and fury.
"We placed the ladies in their antique caravan-looking coach; buckled their baggage on the pyramidal top thereof; furnished Pedro and another servant with the arms and ammunition of the two robbers; promised to see the unfortunate escudero interred, a promise which we never performed; and after escorting them some miles beyond the cork wood, bade them adieu, receiving a pressing invitation to visit them at Ciudad Real, 'where every one knew Donna Emerenciana de Alcala-de-los-Gazules,' which name I give myself no small credit for remembering. We then returned to La Guardia, and for a time thought no more of the affair.