"Evil spirits--spirits from hell. The men are
buying charms."
"Bah! I took you to be a sensible person."
"You don't believe me? Well, I didn't believe them, when they told
me about it. But I saw with my own eyes."
Cobo leaned forward, mildly astonished. Of all his villainous
troop, this man was the last one he had credited with imagination
of this sort. "What did you see?"
"A ghost, my Colonel, nothing else. La Cumbre is no place for an
honest Christian."
The colonel burst into a mocking laugh. "An honest Christian! YOU!
Of all my vile ruffians, you are the vilest. Why, you're a thief,
a liar, and an assassin! You are lying to me now. Come--the truth
for once, before I give you the componte."
"As God is my judge, I'm telling you the truth," protested the
soldier. "Flog me if you will--rather the componte than another
night in those trenches. You know that old quinta?"
"Where Pancho Cueto made a goat of himself? Perfectly. Do you mean
to say that you saw old Esteban Varona walking with his head in
his hands?"
"No, but I saw that she-devil who fell in the well and broke her
neck."
"Eh? When did you behold this--this marvel?"
"Two nights ago. She was there beside the well and her face shone
through the night like a lantern. Christ! There was fire upon it.
She came and went, like a moth in the lamplight.
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