"There it is," Don Stefano said, as he handed it to him; "all is arranged."
Domingo laid his right-hand thumb across the left, and raised his head proudly. "On the Holy Cross of the Redeemer," he said, in a clear and impressive voice, "I swear to employ all my efforts in discovering the secret Don Miguel hides so jealously; I swear never to betray the Caballero with whom I am treating at this moment: this oath I take in the presence of these three Caballeros, pledging myself, if I break it, to endure any punishment, even death, which it may please these three Caballeros to inflict on me."
The oath taken by Domingo is the most terrible a Spanish American can offer; there is not a single instance of it ever having been broken. Don Stefano bowed, convinced of the bandit's sincerity.
At this moment, several shots, followed by horrible yells, were heard at a short distance off. Brighteye started. "Don José," he said to the stranger, as he laid his hands on his shoulder, "Heaven favours us. Return to the camp; tomorrow night I shall probably have some news for you."
"But those shots?"
"Do not trouble yourself about them, but return to the camp, I tell you, and let me act."
"Well, as you wish it, I will retire."
"Till tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
"And I?" Domingo said. "Caramba, comrades, if you are going to play at knives, can you not take me with you?"