"Good! Do you remember how we became acquainted?"
"Certainly: I was a child then, wretched and sickly, dying of want and misery in the streets of Mexico: you took pity on me, you clothed and fed me: not satisfied with this, you yourself taught me to read, write and cypher, and many other things."
"Go on."
"Then, you enabled me to find my parents again, or at least the persons who brought me up, and whom, in default of others, I have always regarded as my family."
"Good, what next?"
"Hang it, you know that as well as I do, Master Oliver."
"That is possible, but I wish you to repeat it to me."
"As you please: one day you came to the rancho, you took me away with you and took me to Sonora and Texas, where we hunted buffalo: at the end of two or three years, you caused me to be adopted by a Comanche tribe, and you left me, ordering me to remain on the prairies, and to lead the existence of a wood ranger, until you sent me an order to return to you."
"Very good, I see that you have a good memory: go on."
"I obeyed you, and remained among the Indians, hunting and living with them: six months ago, you came yourself to the banks of the Río Gila, where I was at the time, and you told me that you had come to fetch me and that I must follow you. I followed you, therefore, without asking an explanation which I did not need: for do I not belong to you, body and soul?"