"You are mad, on my soul, Don Miguel; it is impossible, I tell you."
The adventurer shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "I repeat that I will see her," he said, with resolution; "even if, to reach her, I were compelled to wade in blood up to my waist; I insist on it, and it shall be so."
"But what will you do?"
"I do not know, and care little. If you refuse to help me, well, Brighteye and I will find means, will we not, old comrade?"
"It is certain, Don Miguel," the latter answered, in the placid tone habitual to him, "that I shall not leave you in the lurch. As to finding a plan of reaching the captives, we shall find it, but I will not answer that it is a good one though."
There was a lengthened silence. Marksman was startled at Don Miguel's resolution, which he knew to be unbinding; he calculated mentally the chances, good and bad, which the young man's untoward arrival offered for the success of his schemes. At last he took the word. "I will not try," he said to Don Miguel, "any longer to dissuade you from attempting to see the maidens; I have known you long enough to feel that it would be useless, and that my arguments would, probably, only urge you to commit an act of irremediable insanity. I therefore take upon myself to lead you to Doña Laura."
"You promise it?" the young man exclaimed quickly.
"Yes; but on one condition."
"Speak! whatever it be I accept it."
"Good; when the moment arrives, I will let you know it; but take my advice, and ask Flying Eagle to perfect your disguise; in the way you and Brighteye are dressed at this moment, you could not take a step in the city without being recognized. Now I leave you, for day has broken, and I must go to the High Priest; I leave you in charge of Flying Eagle; follow his instructions carefully, for you stake the life, not only of yourself, but of those you desire to save."