"The whites have strange scruples," murmured Gueyma, speaking rather to himself than to the officers.
However, they heard the remark, to which one of them replied—
"It is not a question of delicacy, chief, but an innate feeling of propriety amongst men who not only respect themselves, but also in themselves respect those whom they are charged to represent."
"You will excuse us, Señor," pursued Gueyma, "we Indians, almost savages, as you call us, know nothing of those subtle distinctions that you are pleased to establish; the life of the desert does not teach such things."
"And we are, perhaps, only the more happy that it is so," added the old chief.
"Possibly," answered the officer; "I will not discuss so futile a point with you. Let us quit this subject, and allow me to offer you a mouthful of brandy."
And after having uncorked his gourd, he presented it to the chief.
The latter, pushing away the gourd, looked in astonishment at the officer.
"You refuse me?" asked the latter, "For what motive, chief? Have I not accepted what you have offered me?"
The Indian several times shook his head.