"Oh yes. Your amiable brigands know how to stock a larder." Two of the wounded men were able to eat, and they were very grateful for the food we took them. Then we returned to the fire, piled up some sacks to serve as seats, and began our meal. It was all most strange to me and very delightful; it might have been a chapter lifted bodily from one of my favourite story-books. There seemed to be a piratical flavour about the whole business. "Perhaps it is as well that I gave my parole," exclaimed the major thoughtfully, taking off another potato. "Why?" I asked. "I might have felt tempted to escape," he replied, looking at the coil of rope. "You forget your jailer carries a pistol," I remarked, laughing. "An empty one," he suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "No, no, my boy; my parole is your only safeguard." "It is a sufficient one, at any rate." "Yes," said he, rather dreamily, I thought. "The honour of a Mariano is sacred; my father taught me that. And yet--and yet, do you know, Crawford," he added, in a sharper tone, "I doubt if a parole given to brigands should be held to." I did not at all like this turn in the conversation, the more especially as my pistol was really empty. I had not dreamed of taking any precautions, trusting wholly in the Spanish officer's honour. I looked up at him, and felt reassured; there could be no treachery hidden behind that frank, open countenance. "It seems to me you are talking nonsense, Santiago," I said cheerfully. "A man's word is his bond in any case--that is, if he be a man." He took no notice of my remark, but sat musing, leaving half his food untouched. As for me, I helped myself to some more beef, though I must confess the major's wild talk nearly destroyed my appetite. His manner had changed so suddenly and abruptly that I knew not what to make of it. I might perhaps have reloaded my pistol without his knowledge, but this would be a confession that I had lost faith in him. "Come," said I jocularly, pointing to his food, "you pay your cooking a poor compliment." To this he made no reply, but looking up after a time exclaimed,-- "I have news for you. I had almost forgotten, but I must tell you before going." "Going?" I cried; "we cannot go before the doctor arrives." "You cannot, but I can, and must. My mind is made up. Do not try to thwart me; I should be sorry if you got hurt. Sit still, my boy; don't stir a finger, or I will kill you!" I looked at him in amazement. His face was flushed, his eyes shone wildly; he spoke with a rapid and angry vehemence.