"Come to the point—what do you want? Explain yourself briefly," said the chief.
"We wish to leave," resumed Mataseis, boldly taking courage.
"What, to leave? Are you, then, in such a hurry? Wait till we give the order to resume the march."
"Your lordship does not do me the honour to understand me," humbly answered Mataseis, more at his ease. "We wish to separate ourselves from your honourable troop, in order to attend to our personal affairs."
"Ah!" said the chief in a sharp tone, and darting at him a searching look; "If it is so, your master very little understands courtesy if he sends you in his place. Or perhaps he thinks us beneath him?"
"Your lordship still does not understand me," pursued the gaucho, with ill-concealed spite; "my master is entirely ignorant of our application. He has no intention of leaving you."
"Well, then, if that is the case, what do you mean by your application?" cried the chief, whose countenance became immediately calm at this news. "Go to sleep, and do not bother me anymore." Then, turning towards his mute companions, he said scornfully, "These whites, when they have tasted firewater, lose their reason."
"Your honourable lordship errs," replied the gaucho, without concerning himself with the leave which had been so unceremoniously given him. "I have not drunk firewater; nor has my companion. My master has sent us away from his service," added he, slightly altering the truth; "we therefore ask your permission to leave the camp, and to go where we think proper."
"Aha!" cried Arnal, with a disdainful smile, "Is that it?"
"Nothing else, honourable cap—"