"Do as you think proper, master," said the Indian; "let us try, then, since you wish it."
"I require nothing of you, my friend," replied he; "this regards me alone, you will remain here."
"Oh, master," replied the Indian in a tone of reproach, "what have I done that you should speak to me thus?"
"You have done nothing to me," my friend; "I am not angry with you. Only, I have no right to expose you, to satisfy one of my caprices, to a terrible death."
"Master," said the Indian in an earnest tone, "I am with you body and soul; where you go, I shall go; what you do, I shall do. You wish to try to save these travellers? Be it so; let us attempt it."
"You have misunderstood me, my friend. You have told me yourself, that I shall go to a certain death in attempting to aid these unhappy travellers; I have not wished that you, who are not concerned in it, should share these perils."
"Pardon, master," quickly interrupted the young man, "let us resume the question. I do not condemn or approve your project. You wish to put it into execution—very well. This is your desire, and I shall not discuss the point with you."
"Come then, since this is the case; but I leave to you to prove that I used no constraint with you."
"Certainly, my master, and whatever happens, be convinced that no reproach shall come from my lips."
A longer conversation became useless between the two men. They understood each other. Notwithstanding the hurricane, they quitted the tambo, followed by the gauchos.