Then, swiftly his dark features altered: "My frien' Smith," he said, "I have come here for my property, not to kill. I have recover my property. Why shall I kill you? To say that I am a better man? Yes, perhaps. Bu also I should be oblige to say that also I am a fool. Yaas! A poor damfool."
Without shifting his eyes he made a motion with one pistol to his men. As they turned and entered the thicket, Quintana's intent gaze became murderous.
"If I mus' kill you I shall do so. Otherwise I have sufficient trouble to keep me from ennui. My frien', I am going home to enjoy my property. If you live or die it signifies nothing to me. No! Why, for the pleasure of killing you, should I bring your dirty gendarmes on my heels?"
He backed away to the edge of the thicket, venturing one swift and evil glance at the girl who stood as though dazed.
"Listen attentively," he said to Darragh. "One of my men remains hidden very near. He is a dead shot. His aim is at your -- sweetheart's -- body. You understan'?"
"Yes."
"Ver' well. You shall not go away for one hour time. After that----" he took off his slouch hat with a sweeping bow -- "you may go to hell!"
Behind him the bushes parted, closed.
Jose Quintana had made his adieux.