"True; but Don Fernando is a caballero who will only exact this sacrifice in so far as to protect his own life."
"I will even go further," broke in Don Fernando; "I will limit the duration of our bargain to ten years. If by that time Don Torribio is not dead, he will again enter upon his rights in all their plenitude, and can dispose of his life after his own fashion."
"That really touches me to the heart! You are a perfect caballero, señor; and I accept the life you offer me so gracefully. A thousand thanks!" added he, uncocking the pistol. "I have no further use for this weapon."
"One thing more, Don Torribio. As no one can read the future, you will not object to have this bond drawn up in writing?"
"Certainly not; but where shall we get the paper?"
"I think I can find the writing materials in my alforjas."
"How right I was in pronouncing you a perfect man of business, whom nothing escapes, dear señor!"
Don Fernando, without answering, went to fetch his alforjas, a kind of double pocket, which is fastened behind the saddle, to hold the necessary articles for travelling, and used throughout the whole of Spanish America instead of the common European valise.
Don Fernando took out pens, ink, and paper, and laid them in order before Don Torribio.
"Now," said he, "write as I shall dictate."