"You crow very loudly for a young cock; take care lest I should have a fancy to cut that comb which you raise so daringly," the general answered with a mocking smile.
"I do not know what your Excellency means. If you do not think proper to hear what I have to say, I venture to hope that you will allow me to retire."
After uttering these words in the same firm tone he had maintained since the beginning of this singular interview, the adventurer made a move to leave the hall.
"Stop, I order you," the general said suddenly; "you please me—so speak without fear. Who are you? Now don't tell any lies, for, perhaps, I know more about you than you suppose."
"I care very little what your Excellency may have learnt about me. I am an honest wood ranger—a Canadian by birth, and at the present moment colonel in the service of the Mexican patriots, commanded by Father Don Pelagio Sandoval."
"Ah, ah," the general muttered in the same mocking way; "go on, my lad, you have forgotten to tell me your name."
"I have several; my real one is Oliver Clary the redskins have christened me the Sumach, and the white men of the prairie generally call me 'Death in the face.'"
"Death in the face?" the general repeated with a grin, "Perhaps we shall soon see whether you really deserve that name."
"No man should praise himself; still, I believe that there are few dangers I am not capable of confronting," he answered resolutely.
"We shall see, we shall see, gossip. Now give me a report of the mission with which you have been entrusted by the honourable scoundrels of whom you have so foolishly made yourself the scapegoat."