Another amiable little trait of Don Fabrique was the strange way he took to remove his predecessor from the command of the troop. This was a rough old guerilla, who in his youth had fought in the campaigns of Wellington, under Don Julian Sanchez, the famous Captain Harelip, as our soldiers named him, and latterly in the service of the Carlists, under the banished Conde de Morella.
The robber captain--Gomes el Guerilla--having incurred the animosity of Fabrique, that worthy procured some gun-cotton (which our patron believed to be a preparation by the devil himself), from a drug-chest, when investigating the shop of a botarico (apothecary) at Castellar; and some of this he placed in the folds of Gomes' neckcloth in the night, and for three days the old and unsuspecting sinner wore this dreadful thing under his well-bearded chin. On the third, Fabrique, who began to lose patience, and vow to have vengeance on the botarico, said, "Come, señor, let us make up a little cigar;" so the cigar was made, and they proceeded to smoke, until some sparks fell on the breast of the old guerilla; and then, Madre de Dios! there was a dreadful flash and explosion like that of a cannon; and to the consternation of all his band, the head of Gomes was blown right off his shoulders, and not a vestige of it was ever seen again.
"The noble Caballeros," continued our host, "have no doubt heard of the great robber-chief, Manuel de Cordova, who in January, 1853, killed the commandant of the civic guard of Bute?"
"He was betrayed by Don Fabrique, and shot to death by a platoon of infantry, in the Plaza of Cordova. Oh, señor, the saints deliver us from the devil and Don Fabrique!"
"So say I," added Jack, as the landlord left us, and thus, being impressed alike by these communications and that of Donna Paulina, we resolved to change our route and avoid this formidable personage who took such an interest in our proceedings.
To deceive any person who might be watching about the hotel, or be bribed by Fabrique, or the major, we made particular inquiries of the patron, the waiters, and stable-boys concerning the road to Gibraltar by the way of Puerto Serrano; and having, as Jack said, "completely thrown dust in their eyes," we took the route to San Lucar and left Seville at a rapid trot about an hour after noon, pausing only to give a peseta to a poor Franciscan who begged from us at the city gate.