"Keep still, everybody!" shouted the sergeant. "Shoot any one who
moves!"
In spite of this blustering command, Ibarra arose and approached the
sergeant. "What do you want?" he asked.
"That you deliver to us at once a criminal named Elias, who was your
pilot this morning," was the threatening reply.
"A criminal--the pilot? You must be mistaken," answered Ibarra.
"No, sir, this Elias has just been accused of putting his hand on a
priest--"
"Oh, was that the pilot?"
"The very same, according to reports. You admit persons of bad
character into your fiestas, Senor Ibarra."
Ibarra looked him over from head to foot and replied with great
disdain, "I don't have to give you an account of my actions! At our
fiestas all are welcome. Had you yourself come, you would have found
a place at our table, just as did your alferez, who was with us a
couple of hours ago." With this he turned his back.
The sergeant gnawed at the ends of his mustache but, considering
himself the weaker party, ordered the soldiers to institute a search,
especially among the trees, for the pilot, a description of whom he
carried on a piece of paper.
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