By a secret foreboding Andrés Garote had guessed that the monk wished to make some important proposal to him. Hence, thanks to that instinctive intuition which rogues possess for certain things, the two men read each other's thoughts. Fray Ambrosio bit his lips, for the gambusino's intelligence startled him. Still the latter bent upon him a glance so full of stupid meaning, that he continued to make a confidant of him, as it were involuntarily.
"Señor Don Andrés," he said in a soft and insinuating voice, "what a happiness that your poor brother, on dying, revealed to me the secret of the rich placer, which he concealed even from yourself!"
"It is true," Andrés answered, turning slightly pale; "it was very fortunate, señor padre. For my part, I congratulate myself on it daily."
"Is it not so? For without it the immense fortune would have been lost to you and all else."
"It is terrible to think of."
"Well, at this moment I have a horrible fear."
"What is it, señor padre?"
"That we have deferred our departure too long, and that some of those European vagabonds we were speaking of just now may have discovered our placer. Those scoundrels have a peculiar scent for finding gold."
"Caray, señor padre!" Andrés said, striking the table with a feigned grief (for he knew very well what the monk was saying was only a clever way of attaining his real point), "that would drive me mad—an affair so well managed hitherto."
"That is true," Fray Ambrosio said in corroboration. "I could never console myself."