to meet him.
“Now yes,” said Roque, “here I am ready to serve you and give you all you want.”
“Well, you know what I want; that we shall have a good tussle.”
“It seems to me that here we have a good place.”
“Well, then, do me the favor,” exclaimed the impetuous Panfilo, drawing a revolver.
“Listen to me,” said Roque, drawing his also; “if really you desire that we shall kill each other, don’t let us create an excitement. Put away your pistol and take your machete.”
“I will do what I please. Are you afraid of the noise?”
“It is you who should be afraid of the noise, lest they hear us and come to part us. If we do not succeed at the first shot nothing will come of it, for they will come and separate us. Is that perhaps what you want?”
“You are right,” replied Panfilo. “Well, then, there is no time to lose. Let us get at it.”
Soon they found themselves on foot, lame, covered with dust, pale, horrible. They seemed not men, but fierce beasts.
The contest could not prolong itself for the combatants were exhausted. They could scarcely move; but they did not wish to yield, since although strength failed, anger more than abounded.
Chance finally settled the contest. When Roque raised his arm to deal a blow with his machete upon Panfilo’s head, the latter by a quick movement tried to parry the blow, to save his head from being cleft open.