"I am quite willing," Dominique answered; "this confounded sun falling virtually on my head since the morning, is beginning, I confess, to tire me, and I should not be sorry to lie down for a little while on the grass."
"In that case stand on no ceremony, comrade; the spot is glorious for a rest."
The two men hobbled their horses, which they unbridled, to let them browze at their ease; and after sitting down opposite each other under the protection of the dense foliage of the trees, they felt in their alforjas, which were well stocked with provisions, and began eating with good appetite. Neither of the men was a great speaker, hence they disposed of their meal in silence, and it was not till Oliver had lit a puro and Dominique his Indian calumet, that the former resolved to speak.
"Well, Dominique," he said to him, "what do you think of the life I have made you lead for the last five months in this province?"
"To tell you the truth," the vaquero replied, puffing out a dense cloud of smoke, "I consider it absurd and wearisome to the highest degree. I should long ago have requested you to send me back to the western prairies, had I not been convinced that you wanted me here."
Oliver burst into a laugh.
"You are true, friend," he said, as he offered him his hand, "ever ready to act without observation or comment."
"I flatter myself I am; for is not friendship composed of self-denial and devotedness?"
"Yes; and that is why it is so rarely met with in this world."
"I pity those who are incapable of experiencing the feeling, for they deprive themselves of a great enjoyment. Friendship is the only real link that attaches men to each other."