"All right—a good guard shall be kept."
"And if I have not given the signal within a week, it will be because I am dead; and, in that case, you can be off and choose another chief, as you cannot hope to see Leon again."
"Oh! captain, do not say that."
"We must foresee everything, my worthy fellow; but I have hopes that, with the help of Heaven, nothing disagreeable will happen to me. Here is the day, and it is time to set out; so let us separate. Good-bye, my excellent Wilhelm, my trust is in you."
"Good-bye, captain, and distrust those scamps of Indians, for they are as treacherous as they are cowardly."
The two men shook hands, and Leon made his llama get up from the ground, while Wilhelm, after making a bundle of the clothes which his captain had bidden him remove, threw it on his shoulder with a desperate air, opened his enormous compasses of legs, and went off into the forest with long strides, and a melancholy shake of the head. Leon looked after him for a moment.
"It is, perhaps, the last friendly face that I shall ever see," he said to himself, with a sigh.
A moment after he resolutely raised his head.
"The die is cast, and I will go on."
Then, assuming the quiet, careless slouch of an Indian, he went slowly toward the plain, followed by his llama, though continually looking searchingly around him.