"A surprise," I cried, "what is it?"
"You shall see; I am convinced you will thank me."
"I thank you in advance," I answered, "without seeking to guess of what character this surprise is."
"Look," answered he, stretching out his arm in the direction of the rancho.
"My guide," I cried; recognising my rascal of an Indian, firmly tied to a tree.
"Himself! What do you think of that?"
"Upon my word, it appears to be a marvel; I cannot understand how you have been able to meet with him."
"Oh! That is not so difficult as you suppose, especially with the information you gave me. All these vagabonds are of the family of wild beasts; they have hiding places from which they never go far. For a man habituated to the pampa, nothing is more easy than to put his hand upon them; this one, especially, trusting to your ignorance of the desert, did not take the trouble to conceal himself. He travelled openly and quietly, persuaded that you would not dream of pursuing him. This confidence, however, has ruined him, and I leave you to guess his fright when I surprised him unawares."
"All that is very well," I answered; "but what do you wish that I should do with this pícaro?"
"What!" he cried with astonishment, "What do I wish you to do? I wish that you should first correct him, in a style he will remember; then, as you have engaged him to serve as guide as far as Brazil, and as he has received in advance a part of the price agreed on, he must fulfil his engagement."