Then he had recourse to useless blows.

Then he essayed profanity of a secular kind, such as "Assassin," "Thief," "Beast with a pig's head," "Food for the Bull's Horns," but with no effect.
Then he had recourse to the curse ecclesiastic: "Ah, Judas Iscariot! is it thus, renegade and traitor, thou leavest me, thy master, a league from camp and supper waiting?
Stealer of the Sacrament, get up!" Still no effect.

Concho began to feel uneasy; never before had a mule of pious lineage failed to respond to this kind of exhortation.

He made one more desperate attempt: "Ah, defiler of the altar! lie not there! Look!" he threw his hand into the air, extending the fingers suddenly.

"Behold, fiend! I exorcise thee! Ha! tremblest! Look but a little now,--see! Apostate! I--I--excommunicate thee,--Mula!" "What are you kicking up such a devil of row down there for ?" said a gruff voice from the rocks above.
Concho shuddered.