“I have no wish to move, friend,” I said, “but I am curious to know why you attack me?” “Because you are a rebel. I have seen you before, you are one of Santa Coloma's officers. Here you shall stand with this knife touching you till you are arrested, or else with this knife in you here you shall die.” “You are making a mistake,” I said. “Neighbours,” said he, speaking to the others, but without taking his eyes from my face, “will you tie this man hand and foot while I stand before him to prevent him from drawing any weapon he may have concealed under his _poncho_?” “We have not come here to arrest travellers,” returned one of the men. “If he is a rebel it is no concern of ours. Perhaps you are mistaken, Gandara.” “No, no, I am not mistaken,” he returned. “He shall not escape. I saw him at San Paulo with these eyes--when did they ever deceive me? If you refuse to assist me, then go one of you to the Alcalde's house and tell him to come without delay, while I keep guard here.” After a little discussion one of the men offered to go and inform the Alcalde. When he had left, I said, “My friend, may I finish my meal? I am hungry, and had just begun to eat when you drew your knife against me.” “Yes; eat,” he said; “only keep your hands well up so that I can see them. Perhaps you have a weapon at your waist.” “I have not,” I said, “for I am an inoffensive person and do not require weapons.” “Tongues were made to lie,” he returned, truly enough. “If I see you drop your hand lower than the counter I shall rip you up. We shall then be able to see whether you digest your food or not.” I began to eat and sip my wine, still with those brutal eyes on my face and the keen knife-point touching my _poncho_. There was now a ghastly look of horrible excitement on his face, while his teeth-grinding performances became more frequent and the slimy froth dropped continually from the corners of his mouth on to his bosom. I dared not look at the knife, because a terrible impulse to wrest it out of his hands kept rising in me. It was almost too strong to be overcome, yet I knew that even the slightest attempt to escape would be fatal to me; for the fellow was evidently thirsty for my blood and only wanted an excuse to run me through. But what, I thought, if he were to grow tired of waiting, and, carried away by his murderous instincts, to plunge his weapon into me? In that case I should die like a dog, without having availed myself of my one chance of escape through over-caution. These thoughts were maddening, still through it all I laboured to observe an outwardly calm demeanour. My supper was done. I began to feel strangely weak and nervous. My lips grew dry; I was intensely thirsty and longed for more wine, yet dared not take it for fear that in my excited state even a very moderate amount of alcohol might cloud my brain. “How long will it take your friend to return with the Alcalde?” I asked at length.