"I told you about my friend at the market," the latter continued.
"Well, he is a miserable Spaniard, but he has a son in the
manigua."
"One of us?" Johnnie was surprised.
"Yes. The old fellow owns a volandra in which he brings charcoal
from the eastward twice a month."
There was a moment of silence; then O'Reilly said, slowly, as if
hesitating even to voice such a suggestion, "You mean--he might
take us out of here--on his schooner?"
"Who knows? He's not a bad old fellow and he likes me. But there
would be no place for women."
"How well does he like you?"
"Oh, we are like two thieves."
After another period of thought O'Reilly said, "Take me to him,
and remember I'm your brother Juan."
The Matanzas market did not present a scene of great activity when
the two friends slunk into it. It was midday, and what food had
earlier been offered for sale had for the most part long since
disappeared. All but a few of the stalls were empty, and a number
of emaciated reconcentrados were searching listlessly among them
for neglected scraps, or imploring aid from such marketmen as
still lingered about. Like most Spanish markets, the building was
far from clean and housed odors unpleasant even to starving
people. In the smelliest section, at one of the fish-stalls,
Jacket accosted a villainous old brigand in a rough Gallego cap,
baggy blouse and trousers, and straw sandals.
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