I am listening."
"I have followed many trades in my day. I have been by turns lepero (vagabond), muleteer, husbandman, soldier. Unhappily, I am of a quick temper: when I am in a passion, my hand is very ready."
"And heavy," said the cavalier, with a smile.
"It is all the same; so much so, that I have had the misfortune to bleed five or six individuals who had the imprudence to pick a quarrel with me. The Juez de letras (magistrate) was annoyed; and under the pretence that I was guilty of six murders, he asserted I deserved the garotte; so, seeing my fellow citizens misapprehended me – that society would not appreciate me at my real value – I took refuge in the desert, and turned hunter."
"Of men?" interrupted the cavalier in a tone of sarcasm.
"By Heavens! Señor, times are hard: the Gringos pay twenty dollars for a scalp. It is a pretty sum; and, on my honour, particularly so when want presses. But I never have recourse to these means except in the direst extremity."
"It is well. And now tell me, do you know me?"
"Very well by report; personally, not at all."
"Have you any reasons for hating me?"
"I have already the honour to tell you – none."
"In that case, why have you attempted to assassinate me?"
"I, señor?" cried he, showing signs of the utmost astonishment; "I assassinate you? Never!",
"What, fool!" exclaimed the cavalier, lowering his brows, "Dare you maintain such an imposture? Four times have I served as a target to your rifle. You have drawn trigger upon me this very day, and – "
"Oh! By your leave, señor," said El Zapote with warmth, "that is quite a different thing. True, I fired at you; it is even likely I shall fire at you again; but never, as I hoped for Paradise, have I dreamed of assassinating you. For shame! – I, a caballero! How could you form so bad an opinion of me, señor?"
"Then what was your intention in firing at me?"
"To kill you, señor; nothing more."
"Then in this case murder is not assassination?"
"Not in the slightest degree, señor; this was business."
"What! Business? – The rogue will make me go mad, upon my soul!"
"By Heaven, señor, an honest man must stick to his word."
"If it is to kill me?"
"Exactly so," answered El Zapote. "You can understand that, under the conditions, I was compelled to keep my engagement."
There was a moment of silence; evidently the reasoning did not seem so conclusive to the cavalier as to the lepero.
Then said the former:
"Enough; let us have done with this."
"I ask no better of your seigneurie."
"You acknowledge, I suppose, that you are in my power?"
"It would be difficult to assert the contrary."
"Good! As, according to your own confession you have fired on me with the evident intention of killing me – "
"I cannot deny it, señor."
"In killing you, now you are in my power, I should only be making use of reprisals?"
"That is perfectly true, caballero, I must even confess that you could not possibly have a stronger reason for doing so."
His companion gazed at him in surprise.
"Then you are content to die?" said he.
"Let us understand each other," replied the lepero with avidity. "I am not at all content. On the contrary, I only know that I am a thorough gambler, that is all. I played; I lost; I have to pay. It is reasonable."
The cavalier seemed to reflect.
"And if, instead of planting my knife in your throat, even as you yourself acknowledge I have the right to do – "
El Zapote made a sign of assent.
"I were to restore you to liberty," continued the cavalier, "leaving you the power of acting according to your own impulse?"
The bandit shook his head sorrowfully.
"I repeat," he said, "that I would kill you. A man must stick to his word. I cannot betray the confidence of my employers; it would ruin my reputation."
The cavalier burst out laughing.
"I suppose you have been well paid for this undertaking?" said he.
"Not a great deal; but want makes many things be done. I have received a hundred piastres."
"No more?" exclaimed the stranger, with a gesture of disdain; "It is very little; I thought myself worth more than that."
"A great deal more, particularly as the undertaking was difficult; but next time I will take a silver bullet."
"You are an idiot, comrade. You will not kill me the next, any more than you did the other times. Think of what has occurred up to today. I have already heard your balls whistle four times about my ears: that annoyed me. At last I wished to find out who you were: you see I have succeeded."
"It is the truth. Now, after all, were you not aware of my being close to you?"
The cavalier shrugged his shoulders.
"I will not even demand of you," he said, "the name of him who has ordered you to compass my death. Here, take your knife, and begone. I despise you too much to fear you. Adieu!"
Speaking thus, the cavalier rose, and dismissed the bandit with a gesture full of majesty and disdain.
The lepero remained an instant motionless, then bowed profoundly before his generous adversary.
"Thanks, your worship," said he, in a voice exhibiting some emotion; "you are better than I. Never mind; I will prove to you that I am not the scoundrel you fancy me, and that there is still something within me which has not been utterly corrupted."
The cavalier's only answer was to turn his back upon him, with a shrug of the shoulders.
The lepero gazed after his retiring form with a look of which his savage features would have seemed incapable: a mixture of sorrow and gratitude impressed on his countenance a stamp very different to their customary expression.
"He does not believe me," he muttered – we have already seen that he had a decided taste for soliloquy – "he does not believe me. Why, indeed, should he trust my words? It is sad; but an honest man must stick to his word, and I will prove to him that he does not yet know me. Let me begone."
Comforting himself with these words, the bandit returned to the rock behind which he had originally hidden; there he picked up his rifle, then from the other side of the rock he brought his horse, which he had concealed in a hollow, replaced the bridle, and departed at a gallop, after casting a glance behind him, and murmuring, in a tone of sincere admiration:
"¡Caray! What a tremendous fellow! What natural power! What a pity it would be to knock him over like an antelope, from behind a bush! ¡Viva Dios! That shall not happen, if I can hinder it, on the honour of a Zapote."
He forded the Rio Bermejo, and speedily disappeared amongst the tall grasses that bordered the opposite bank.
As soon as the unknown had assured himself of the lepero's departure, he began to calculate the time by the enormously lengthened shadows of the trees; and, after looking about him attentively, gave a whistle, sharp and prolonged, which, although restrained, was nevertheless repeated by all the echoes of the river, so powerful was its tone.
At the end of a few seconds a distant neighing made itself audible, followed almost immediately after by the sound of precipitate galloping, resembling the rolling of distant thunder.
Little by little the sound grew nearer, the branches crashed, the underwood was violently dashed aside, and the unknown's mustang made his appearance on the skirt of a wood at a little distance.
When