"Oh, curses!" protested the _veedor_. "Art not finished? I’ve paid thee twice!" "Go!" shouted Duero, stamping his foot. "Order your horse. I’ll see you to the gates." Rogelio went out with a groan. In half an hour he was riding down the hill, panting an imprecation at every step. Duero returned from the gate whither he had escorted him, and calling the servant, ordered the best the _veedor’s_ larder afforded. Then the villains held carnival. *CHAPTER XXIII* _*Rogelio Finds Gall and Wormwood*_ Pedro was extinguishing the lights of his _cantina_ when he heard the clatter of a horse’s hoofs. They stopped at his door, and Rogelio entered, perspiring, breathless, and in violent perturbation. "Ho, Señor _Veedor_, thou dost ride late!" exclaimed Pedro, in surprise. "There is something amiss?" Rogelio sank upon the nearest stool, panting and wiping away perspiration, on the verge of apoplexy from exertion and rage combined. The danger of it seemed to strike Pedro at once. He hurried forward and commenced fanning the official vigorously with his apron. "Steady, steady, Señor!" he urged, soothingly. "Do not try to talk. Take time and spare thy wind. Thou ’rt gasping like a ducked hen.—Nay, nay! Do not swear. Be tranquil. Calm thyself. Count ten, Señor—now do! Believe me, naught doth so soothe a fit of ferment. But—swearing again! Gently, gently, or thou’lt melt in thine own heat! Gods, man! Cease rolling thine eyes. Hast a cramp under thy belt? Let me thump thy back.—Ah!" Pedro pummelled the agitated _veedor_ between the shoulders with hearty vigor, and succeeded thereby in expelling what little breath he had remaining, rendering him still more helpless from exasperation. He saved himself by bolting from his seat and backing against the wall, where he stood waving his arms in speechlessness to keep the zealous cook away. "Name of a saint, my friend!" said Pedro, with great concern, after Rogelio began to breathe more freely, "I never saw an over-gorged pup nearer a fit than thou. What hath gone wrong?" "She—hath arrived!" gasped the _veedor_ at length. "Oh! She hath arrived, hath she? Well, she must be a very tarantula to work thee a spell like that, Señor! By the gods, even Bolio’s coming could not give me such a bedevilment of jerks and palpitations!" The _veedor_ was rendered speechless again. Pedro eyed him with great commiseration until he showed signs of recovery, then threw him into another spasm by inquiring with solicitude, "Doth the lady pursue, Señor? If so, we will barricade the door." Rogelio held up his hands, violently shaking his head. "No, no!" he managed to say. "Damned—numskull! Let me—talk."