Before they retired to rest, she made them punch, and gave them a small
bottle of liquor, which they could conceal about them and use on the
road. The next morning the sounds of the drums called the prisoners in
the square to get ready for their departure. Golpin went to the old
woman's room, insisting that she should give them more of the liquor.
Now the poor thing had already done much. Liquor in these far inland
countries, where there are no distilleries, reaches the enormous price
of from sixteen to twenty dollars a gallon. So she mildly but firmly
refused, upon which Golpin seized from the nail, where it was hung, a
very heavy key, which he knew to be that of the little cellar
underground, where the woman kept the liquor. She tried to regain
possession of it, but during the struggle Golpin beat her brains out
with a bar of iron that was in the room. This deed perpetrated, he
opened the trap-door to the cellar, and among the folds of his blanket
and that of his companion concealed as many flasks as they could carry.
They then shut the street-door and joined their companions.
Two hours afterwards, the husband returned, and knocked in vain; at
last, he broke open the door, and beheld his help-mate barbarously
mangled. A neighbour soon told him about the two Texan guests, and the
wretched man having made his depositions to an alcade, or constable,
they both started upon fresh horses, and at noon overtook the prisoners.
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