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 Esmeralda). "And," he concluded, with a sudden rise in the voice, "a man of many teeth—'hombre de muchos dientes.' Si, señor. As to us," he pursued, portentous and impressive, "your worship is beholding the finest body of officers in the republic, men unequalled for valor and sagacity, 'y hombres de muchos dientes.'"

"What? All of them?" inquired the disreputable envoy of Señor Fuentes, with a faint, derisive smile.

"Todos. Si, señor," the major affirmed gravely, with conviction. "Men of many teeth."

The other wheeled his horse to face the portal resembling the high gate of a dismal barn. He raised himself in his stirrups, extended one arm. He was a facetious scoundrel, entertaining for these stupid Occidentals a feeling of great scorn natural in a native from the central provinces. The folly of Esmeraldians especially aroused his amused contempt. He began an oration upon Pedro Montero, keeping a solemn countenance. He flourished his hand as if introducing him to their notice. And when he saw every face set, all the eyes fixed upon his lips, he began to shout a sort of catalogue of perfections: "Generous, valorous, affable, profound (he snatched off his hat enthusiastically)—a statesman, an invincible chief of partisans—"he dropped his voice startlingly to a deep, hollow note—"and a dentist."

He was off instantly at a smart walk; the rigid straddle of his legs, the turned-out feet, the stiff back, the rakish slant of the sombrero above the square, motionless set of the shoulders expressing an infinite, awe-inspiring impudence.