"Do you fancy me such a fool as to pay you beforehand?"
"Hang it! I fancy——"
"Nonsense! You are mad, compadre. Now that we understand one another, let me undo you—that will freshen up your ideas."
He took off the reata. El Buitre rose at once, stamped his foot to restore the circulation, and then turning to the hunter, who stood watching him laughingly, with his hands crossed on the muzzle of his rifle, said,—
"At least you have some security to give me?"
"Yes, and an excellent one."
"What?"
"The word of an honest man."
The bandit made a gesture; but Valentine continued, not seeming to notice it,—
"I am the man whom the whites and Indians have surnamed the 'Trail-hunter.' My name is Valentine Guillois."