Manuel was looking
on, when the boy said to him:
"Come on, you. Lend a hand!"
Manuel pitched in, and when the three had ended their labours, they
waited for Petra and Senor Ignacio to finish chatting. Petra was
recounting Manuel's latest exploits to her cousin and the cobbler
listened smilingly. The man bore no signs of gruffness; he was blond
and beardless; upon his upper lip sprouted a few saffron-hued hairs.
His complexion was leathery, wrinkled; the deep furrows of his face,
and his wearied mien, gave him the appearance of a weakling. He spoke
with a certain ironic vagueness.
"You're going to stay here," said Petra to Manuel.
"All right."
"He's an amiable rogue," exclaimed Senor Ignacio, laughing. "He agrees
right away."
"Yes; he takes everything calmly. But, look--" she added, turning to
her son, "if ever I find out that you carry on as you did yesterday,
you'll hear from me!"
Manuel said good-bye to his mother.
"Were you very long in that town of Soria with my cousin?" Senor
Ignacio asked.
"Two years."
"And did you work very hard there?"
"I didn't work at all."
"Well, sonny, you can't get out of it here. Come. Sit down and get
busy. These are your cousins," added Senor Ignacio, indicating the
youth and the little boy.
"They are a pair of warriors, too."
The youth's name was Leandro, and he was well-built; in no respect did
he resemble his father.
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