"All is settled," the senator replied, as he produced the vouchers.
"¡Caramba! You have lost no time."
"The best things are those done quickly. Take all these documents, and make what use of them you think proper. I am delighted at having got rid of them." While saying this, Don Rufino threw the papers on the table with an excellent affectation of delight.
"With your leave, caballero," the colonel said, with a laugh, "I will take these papers, since you insist on it, but I will give you a receipt."
"Oh, no," the senator exclaimed, "that would spoil the whole business."
"Still—"
"Not a word," he interrupted him, quickly; "I do not wish to have in my possession the shadow of a claim upon Don Hernando."
The colonel would have probably pressed the point, had not a great noise been heard in the anteroom, and a man rushed into the colonel's sanctum, shouting at the top of his lungs, "The Indians! The Indians!"
The colonel and the senator rose. The man was Kidd; his clothes were torn and disordered; his face and hands were covered with blood and dust, and all apparently proved that he had just escaped from a sharp pursuit. A strange uproar outside the house, which soon assumed formidable proportions, corroborated his statement.
"Is that you, Kidd?" the colonel exclaimed.