than nothing," the hunter replied, making him a sign to follow. "You had a spy at your heels; that is all."
"A spy?"
"By Jove! you shall see."
"Oh, oh! that is serious."
"Less than you suppose, as we have him."
"In that case, though, we must kill the man."
"Who knows? That will probably depend on the explanation we may have with him. At any rate, there is no great harm in crushing such vipers."
While speaking thus, Brighteye and his companion had entered the thicket. Domingo, thrown down, and tightly garotted by means of Ruperto's reata, was vainly struggling to break the bonds that cut into, his flesh. Ruperto, with his hands resting on the muzzle of his rifle, was listening with a grin, but no other reply, to the flood of insults and recriminations which rage drew from the half-breed.
"¡Dios me ampare!" the latter shouted, writhing like a viper. "¡Verdugo del Demonio! Is this the way to behave between gente de razón? Am I a Redskin, to be tied like a plug of tobacco, and have my limbs fettered like a calf that is being taken to the shambles? If ever you fall into my hands, accursed dog! you shall pay for the trick you have played me."
"Instead of threatening, my good man," Brighteye interposed, "it seems to me you would do better by frankly allowing that you are in our power, and acting in accordance."
The bandit sharply turned his head, the only part of his person at liberty, toward the hunter.
"What right have you to call me good man, and give me advice, old trapper of muskrats?" he said to him, irritably. "Are you white men or Indians, to treat a hunter thus?"
"If, instead of hearing what did not concern you, Señor Domingo, for I believe that is your name," Don Stefano said, with a cunning look, "you had remained quietly asleep in your camp, the little annoyance of which you complain would not have occurred."
"I am bound to recognize the justice of your reasoning," the bandit replied ironically; "but, hang it! what would you have? I have ever suffered from a mania of trying to find out what people sought to hide from me."
The stranger looked at him suspiciously.
"And have you had the mania long, my good friend?" he asked him.
"Since my earliest youth," he answered, with effrontery.
"Only think of that! Then you must have learned a good many things?"
"An enormous quantity, worthy sir."
Don Stefano turned to Brighteye.
"My friend," he said to him, "just unloosen this man's bonds a little. There is much to be gained in his company; I wish to enjoy his conversation for a little while."
The hunter silently executed the orders he received. The bandit uttered a sigh of satisfaction at finding himself more at his ease, and sat up.
"¡Cuerpo de Cristo!" he exclaimed, with a mocking accent. "The position is now, at any rate, bearable. We can talk."
"I think so."
"My faith! yes. I am quite at your service, for anything you please, Excellency."
"I will profit by your complaisance."
"Profit by it! profit by it, Excellency? I can only gain in talking with you."
"Do you believe so?"
"I am convinced of it."
"Indeed, you may be right; but tell me, beside that noble curiosity, which you so frankly confessed, have you not, by accident, a few other defects?"
The bandit appeared to reflect conscientiously for two or three minutes, and then answered, with an affable grin, —
"My faith! no, Excellency. I cannot find any."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Hum! it may be so, yet I do not believe it."
"Come, you see, you are not sure."
"That is indeed true!" the bandit exclaimed, with pretended candour. "As you know, Excellency, human nature is so imperfect."
Don Stefano gave a nod of assent.
"If I were to help you," he said, "perhaps – "
"We might find it out, Excellency," Domingo quickly interrupted him. "Well, help me, help me, I ask for nothing better."
"Hum! for instance – but notice that I affirm nothing; I suppose, that is all."
"¡Caray! I am well aware of it. Go on, Excellency, do not trouble yourself."
"Then, I say – have you not a certain weakness for money?"
"For gold, especially."
"That is what I meant to say."
"The fact is, gold is very tempting, Excellency."
"I do not wish to regard it as a crime, my friend. I only mention it; besides, that passion is so natural – "
"Is it not?"
"That you must be affected by it."
"Well, I confess, Excellency, that you have guessed it."
"Look you! I was sure of it."
"Yes, money gained honestly."
"Of course! Thus, for instance, suppose anyone offered you a thousand piastres to discover the secret of Don Miguel Ortega's palanquin?"
"Hang it!" the bandit said, fixing a sharp glance on the stranger, who, for his part, examined him attentively.
"And if that somebody," Don Stefano went on, "gave you in addition, as earnest penny, a ring like this?" While saying this, he made a magnificent diamond ring flash in the bandit's eyes.
"I would accept," the latter said, with a greedy accent, "even if I were compelled, in order to discover that secret, to imperil the share I hope for in Paradise."
Don Stefano turned to Brighteye. "Unfasten this man," he said, coldly, "we understand each other."
On feeling himself free, the half-breed gave a bound of joy. "The ring!" he said.
"There it is," Don Stefano said, as he handed it to him; "all is arranged."
Domingo laid his right-hand thumb across the left, and raised his head proudly. "On the Holy Cross of the Redeemer," he said, in a clear and impressive voice, "I swear to employ all my efforts in discovering the secret Don Miguel hides so jealously; I swear never to betray the Caballero with whom I am treating at this moment: this oath I take in the presence of these three Caballeros, pledging myself, if I break it, to endure any punishment, even death, which it may please these three Caballeros to inflict on me."
The oath taken by Domingo is the most terrible a Spanish American can offer; there is not a single instance of it ever having been broken. Don Stefano bowed,
