"Doña Hermosa is a woman, my good friend; you saved her life. I do not positively know the nature of her sentiments towards you,—it is very likely they are inexplicable to herself,—but I am convinced of her gratitude to you; and in a young girl gratitude soon merges into love."
"Silence, Estevan!" cried the old lady, interrupting him; "Such words must not be used when speaking of your master's daughter."
"Very true, mother; forgive me; I was wrong. But had you heard Doña Hermosa speaking of our friend as I did, and exacting from me a promise to search for and bring him to her,—¡vive Dios! you would not know what to think."
"Perhaps so; but, at all events, I should not have poured oil upon the flame, and, for my own sake and that of my friend, should have prudently locked up my thoughts at the bottom of my heart."
"Do not think me so mad, señora," exclaimed Don Fernando, "as to attach more importance than they deserve to your son's words. I know too well what I am—I have too complete a conviction of my inferiority—to dare to raise my venturous eyes to her whom honour compels me to respect as one of the angels."
"Well said, Don Fernando, and spoken as a man should speak," broke in Ña Manuela; "but let us drop the subject, and occupy ourselves in finding the means of escape from the dilemma we are in."
"I think," replied the hunter, with some hesitation—"I think I can show you the means, if you cannot contrive something better."
Mother and son eagerly drew their butacas nearer to him, in order to listen more attentively.
"Speak, brother, speak," cried Don Estevan; "let us have no further delay. These means, what are they?"
"You must excuse me," resumed Don Fernando, "if the plan I am about to submit to you should not be exactly compatible with the strict laws of honour as they are understood in the civilised world; but I entreat you to recollect that I have been brought up as a redskin; that the man with whom we are about to enter into mortal strife is more than half an Indian; and the war he intends to wage with you will be an Apache war, full of treachery and ambuscades; that, in order to meet him with advantage, we too, whatever repugnance we may feel, must employ the same measures,—must turn his own weapons against himself; must repel treachery by treachery, and knavery by knavery; for if, adhering to a false idea of honour, we persist in an open and honest warfare, we shall play the part of fools indeed, and he will outwit us."