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There was rather a lengthened silence between the two speakers.
"Well!" the gambusino said, suddenly, "I will not be beat. I will play the old demon a trick after my fashion."
"What is your plan?"
"That is my business. If you had placed greater confidence in me, all this would not have happened, and we should have settled matters, to the general satisfaction. Well, what is done cannot be undone, and I will try to repair your fault, so now be off."
"Off--where to?"
"To the foot of the mountain; but do not come up again unless your comrades are with you. You will act as their guide to this spot."
"But you?"
"Don't trouble yourself about me. Good-bye."
"Well," the young man said, "I leave you at liberty to act as you think proper."
"You ought to have formed that resolution sooner. Ah, by the way, just leave me your hat."
"With great pleasure; but you have one."
"Perhaps I want another. Ah! one word more."
"Speak."
"If by any chance you should hear a noise--shots fired, say--as you are going down the mountain, do not alarm yourself, or come up again."
"Good--that is agreed; so good-bye."
After tossing his hat to the gambusino, the young man put his rifle on his shoulder, and began descending the mountain: he speedily disappeared in the countless windings of the path. So soon as Andres Garote was alone, he picked up Don Pablo's hat and threw it over the precipice, eagerly watching its descent. After turning over and over, the hat touched a peak, rebounded, and at length rested on the mountainside a great distance beneath.
"Good," the gambusino said with satisfaction, "that is all right; now for the rest."
Andres Garote then sat down on the ground, took his rifle, and discharged it in the air; immediately, drawing one of his pistols from his belt, he stretched out his left arm and pulled the trigger; the ball went right through the fleshy part. "Caramba!" he said, as he fell all his length on the ground, "that pains more than I fancied; but no matter; the great point is to succeed, so now to await the result."
Nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed and nothing disturbed the silence of the desert. Andres, still stretched at full length, was groaning in a way that would move the heart of the rocks. At length a slight noise was heard a short distance off.
"Halloh!" the gambusino muttered, cunningly watching what had happened, "I fancy there's a bite."
"Who the deuce have we here?" a rough voice said; "Go and see, Sutter."
Andres Garote opened his eyes and recognised Red Cedar, and his son.
"Ah!" he said in a hollow voice, "Is that you, old squatter? Where the deuce do you come from? If I expected anybody, it was certainly not you, though I am delighted with you."
"I know that voice," exclaimed Red Cedar.
"It is Andres Garote, the gambusino," Sutter replied.
"Yes, it is I, my good Sutter," the Mexican said. "Oh! oh! How I suffer!"
"What's the matter with you, and how did you come here?"
"You're all right, I see," the other replied savagely. "Cuerpo de Cristo! Things have gone with me from bad to worse since I left my rancho to come in this accursed prairie."
"Will you answer yes or no?" Red Cedar said angrily, dashing his rifle b.u.t.t on the ground, and giving him a suspicious glance.
"Well, I am wounded, that, is easy to see; I have a bullet in my arm, and am all over bruises. Santa Maria, how I suffer! But no matter, the brigand who attacked me will never injure anybody again."
"Have you killed him?" the squatter asked eagerly.
"I did my best; look over the precipice--you will see his body."
Sutter bent over. "I see a hat," he said directly after; "the body cannot be far."
"Unless it has rolled to the bottom of the barranca."
"That is probable," Sutter remarked, "for the rock is almost perpendicular."
"Oh, demonios! Nuestra Senora! How I suffer!" the gambusino groaned.
The squatter had in his turn leant over the precipice; he recognised Don Pablo's hat; he gave a sign of satisfaction, and returned to Andres.
"Come," he said in a gentle tone, "we cannot stop here all night; can you walk?"
"I do not know, but I will try."
"Try, then, in the demon's name."
The gambusino rose with infinite difficulty and tried to walk a little way, but fell back. "I cannot," he said despondingly.
"Nonsense!" said Sutter; "I will take him on my back, he is not very heavy."
"Look sharp, then."
The young man stooped, took the gambusino in his arms, and laid him across his shoulders as easily as if he had been a child. Ten minutes later Andres Garote was in the cavern lying before the fire, and Fray Ambrosio was bandaging up his arm.
"Well, gossip," the monk said, "you have been very cleverly wounded."
"Why so?" the Mexican asked in alarm.
"Why, a wound in the left arm will not prevent your firing a shot with us in case of an alarm."
"I will do so, you may be sure," he replied, with a singular accent.
"With all that, you have not told me by what chance you were on the mountain," Red Cedar remarked.
"It was simple; since the destruction and dispersion of our poor cuadrilla, I have been wandering about in every direction like a masterless dog; hunted by the Indians to take my scalp, pursued by the whites to be hanged, as forming part of Red Cedar's band, I did not know where to find shelter. About three days back chance brought me to this sierra; tonight, at the moment I was going to sleep, after eating a mouthful, a fellow whom the darkness prevented me recognising, suddenly threw himself on me; you know the rest--but no matter, I settled his little score."