"At once."
"Thanks! Now, as regards yourself personally, I leave you at liberty to follow or leave us at your pleasure; but in the first place, we want horses, arms, and, above all, an escort. I do not wish to fall once more into the hands of the heathen. Perhaps I shall not have the good fortune to escape from them so easily as on this occasion."
"Remain here: in two hours I will return with horses. As for an escort, I will try and procure you one, although I do not promise it. As you allow me to do so, I will accompany you till you have rejoined the conde. I hope, during the period I may have the felicity of passing near you, to succeed in proving to you that you have judged me wrongfully."
These words were pronounced with such an accent of truth that the hacendero felt moved.
"Whatever may happen," he said, "I thank you: you will none the less have done me an immense service, for which I shall be ever grateful to you."
Don Sylva tore a leaf from his pocketbook, on which he wrote a few lines in pencil, folded it, and handed it to the Tigrero.
"Are you sure of that man?" he asked him.
"As of myself," Don Martial replied evasively. "Be assured that he will see the conde."
The hacendero made a sign of satisfaction as the Tigrero went up to Cucharés.
"Listen," he said aloud as he gave him the paper. "Within two days you must have delivered this to the chief of Guetzalli. You understand me?"