"Ah. To die in the wood," said Morano. "No," said Rodriguez; and
he walked towards the horses. And something in that "No" sounding
almost contemptuous, Morano's feelings were hurt, and he blurted
out to his master "But how can they get away to get their food??
It is good knots that I tie, master."
"Morano," Rodriguez said, "I remember ten ways in the books of
romance whereby bound men untie themselves; and doubtless one or
two more I have read and forgot; and there may be other ways in
the books that I have not read, besides any way that there be of
which no books tell. And in addition to these ways, one of them
may draw a comrade's sword with his teeth and thus ..."
"Shall I pull out their teeth?" said Morano.
"Ride," said Rodriguez, for they were now come to the horses. And
sorrowfully Morano looked at the horse that was to be his, as a
man might look at a small, uncomfortable boat that is to carry him
far upon a stormy day. And then Rodriguez helped him into the
saddle.
"Can you stay there?" Rodriguez said. "We have far to go."
"Master," Morano answered, "these hands can hold till evening."
And then Rodriguez mounted, leaving Morano gripping the high front
of the saddle with his large brown hands. But as soon as the
horses started he got a grip with his heels as well, and later on
with his knees. Rodriguez led the way on to the straggling road
and was soon galloping northwards, while Morano's heels kept his
horse up close to his master's.
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