Fuentes was right in not boasting of his second impulse. As for this reckless indifference to human life, I had seen too many similar instances in Mexico to be at all astonished at it. I rode sadly back to Guanajuato, still in the company of Fuentes, who did not fail to stop me at the little pent-house in which the hand of the sacrilegious robber was exposed. This memorial of a barbarous justice reminded me that I had observed some imperfections in the miner's story.
"If I understood you aright," I said, "of the three persons, actors and witness, who were present at the duel between Osorio and the young miner, two are dead, and the third escaped. How comes it, then, that you can speak so positively about actions of which no person could have informed you?"
"Very simply," replied Fuentes. "I had forgotten to tell you that it was I who killed Osorio; it was I who witnessed the deed on the Rio Atotonilco. Don't think, however, that I am an utterly heartless bravo like that Don Tomas, surnamed Verdugo.[38] I have given, it is true, more than one stroke in my time; but in Mexico one must see a little justice done to one's self. Were you not yourself on the very point of killing a man this morning? And don't you think that a similar case might perchance happen to me?"
I shuddered at this rude speech, which reminded me of the danger I ran by remaining any longer in Guanajuato. The man whose life I had threatened that day was, I had no doubt, the murderer of Don Jaime. It may be easily imagined that I felt some degree of satisfaction in finding myself safe at the door of my hotel.
"Ah! you live here?" said Fuentes, grasping my hand; "I am very glad I know; I shall call on you to-morrow, and we shall have a pleasant day together."
"Well, to-morrow," I said. We parted, and I entered the inn.
My valet Cecilio waited on me with as much impatience as curiosity in his countenance. He had been long obliged to make himself acquainted with all the particulars of my life, but seldom had he been necessitated to follow me into such a maze of disagreeable incidents. I interrupted his questions by ordering him to have our horses saddled at midnight, as I wished to avoid both Fuentes and the treacherous designs of Don Tomas.
"After this," said I, "we shall travel only at night; it is better for the health."
By traveling at night and sleeping during the day, I reasonably hoped to baffle all pursuit. However, grown bolder by success, I returned to my ordinary habits; and when I came to the venta of Arroyo Zarco, it was midday before I arrived, after having passed the night at San Juan del Bio, and journeying almost the whole day. In this last stage of my excursion many sorrowful remembrances crowded into my mind. The plain, the venta, alike reminded me of Don Jaime. It was while musing sadly on this young man, so prematurely cut off, that I found myself, almost without knowing it, at the very spot where he had lighted his fire. Of so many dreams of love and fortune, what was left behind? A corpse three hundred miles away, a few burned sticks, and some ashes which the winds of the plain were scattering about! The supper-hour approaching, I went to pass away an idle hour, if not at the common table, at least in a room where all the travelers, and they were numerous on that day, were generally accustomed to take their meals. The company consisted, as it had done before, of a curious mixture of all classes of Mexican society, but I had no end in view as I had then, and accordingly seated myself in a corner after looking around me with a careless eye. I thought for some time on the cruel isolation to which foreigners are subjected in those countries inhabited by people of Spanish extraction, when the hostess pronounced, almost at my ear, the name of a person that made me start.