“That,” said Morano, “is not the way of la Garda.  For once let la Garda come by a suspicion, such as that you, master, are but Morano, and they will cling to it even to the last, and not abandon it until they needs must, and then throw it away as it were in disgust and ride hence at once, for they like not tarrying long near one who has seen them mistaken.”

“They will soon then come by another suspicion,” said Rodriguez.

“Not so, master,” answered Morano, “for those that are as suspicious as la Garda change their suspicions but slowly.  A suspicion is an old song to them.”

“Then,” said Rodriguez, “I shall be hard set ever to show that I am not you if they ever suspect I am.”

“It will be hard, master,” Morano answered; “but we shall do it, for we shall have truth upon our side.”

“How shall we disguise ourselves?” said Rodriguez.

“Master,” said Morano, “when you came to our town none knew you and all marked your clothes.  As for me my fat body is better known than my clothes, yet am I not too well known by la Garda, for, being an honest man, whenever la Garda came I used to hide.”

“You did well,” said Rodriguez.

“Certainly I did well,” said Morano, “for had they seen me they might, on account of certain matters, have taken me to prison, and prison is no place for an honest man.”

“Let us disguise ourselves,” said Rodriguez.

“Master,” answered Morano, “the brain is greater than the stomach, and now more than at any time we need the counsel of the brain; let us therefore appease the clamours of the stomach that it be silent.”

And he drew out from amongst his clothing a piece of sacking in which was a mass of bacon and some lard, and unslung his huge frying-pan.  Rodriguez had entirely forgotten the need of food, but now the memory of it had rushed upon him like a flood over a barrier, as soon as he saw the bacon.  And when they had collected enough of tiny inflammable things, for it was a treeless plain, and Morano had made a fire, and the odour of the bacon became perceptible, this memory was hugely intensified.

“Let us eat while they eat, master,” said Morano, “and plan while they sleep, and disguise ourselves while they pursue.”

And this they did:  for after they had eaten they dug up earth and gathered leaves with which to fill the gaps in Morano’s garments when they should hang on Rodriguez, they plucked a geranium with whose dye they deepened Rodriguez’ complexion, and with the sap from the stalk of a weed Morano toned to a pallor the ruddy brown of his tough cheeks.  Then they changed clothes altogether, which made Morano gasp:  and after that nothing remained but to cut off the delicate black moustachios of Rodriguez and to stick them to the face of Morano with the juice of another flower that he knew where to find.  Rodriguez sighed when he saw them go.  He had pictured ecstatic glances cast some day at those moustachios, glances from under long eyelashes twinkling at evening from balconies; and looking at them where they were now, he felt that this was impossible.