"And you credit the tale!" exclaimed the first speaker scornfully. "You'll believe next that the Garden of Paradise has been found." "And so I will," was the retort, "when the news is given me by Montoro de Diego. He would not lie to save his life, and least of all would he lie to a child." "By all the saints," sneered the third of the group, "but Don Diego hath a warm advocate in you! Doubtless it were useless to expect you to touch his gold, even though it lay by the wayside to be picked up." "Doubtless under those circumstances," was the sharp reply, "there should be little left for you to snatch. All the same, he hath shown kindness to my boy, and he tells him nought but truth." "Well, well," said Almado, the first speaker, more softly, "there is no need that we should wrangle over the fellow's virtues, they sicken me forsooth. Ne'er the less, he shall be a very saint if you will, so we do but get his merchandise. As for the gold that is to go to Madrid, that is but that small part, of what he carries, which is for the king's coffers. Of that I am well assured. So you see thy little son yonder hath been told the truth indeed, but only in part, and maybe to mislead us." "Umph," muttered Bautista's father, also more quietly. "That may well be." "Ay," agreed the third of the company, "that may well be." And for the next few hours they all redoubled their efforts to be on good terms with Don. They flattered themselves, indeed, that he regarded them quite in the light of friends, for Don, like most very strong creatures, whether going on two legs or four, never troubled himself to show uncalled-for fierceness. As long as no one interfered with him or his master, and his master gave him no orders to interfere with others, he maintained the grave indifference of manner worthy of a highborn Spaniard. But woe betide those who should presume upon this calmness. Arrived at Cadiz, Montoro delivered up the royal revenue to the authorized messengers awaiting it, and then he and his dog and his bags set out on their journey up the country, in company with worthy Master Sancho, who had come to meet him, and two or three other traders from the interior. "Farewell, my little Bautista," said Montoro; "I shall pray for our future meeting." "Nay," said the child hurriedly, and with a frightened look round, "do not that, Señor. I love you, you have been good to me, and so I pray the Virgin to grant we may not meet again." Montoro opened his eyes wide. "How so, little man? Love me, and yet pray that we may not again cross each other's paths? How is that, tell me?" But the boy shook his head, and began to tremble violently. "Do not ask me," he muttered with white lips; "they will kill me. Only keep away from us. They do not know I have heard--"