The monk shuddered. Red Cedar's gaiety had the peculiarity of being even more fearful than his anger. The squatter sat down on a bench, and turned to the gambusino.
"Drink!" he said roughly.
Garote fetched a jar of mezcal, which he placed before his terrible accomplice. The latter, not taking the trouble to pour the liquor into a glass, raised the jar to his lips, and drank till breath failed him.
"Hum!" he said, with a click of his tongue, "That's pleasant tipple when you're thirsty. Listen to my orders, my dear children, and try to carry them out to the letter; or, if not, your roguish hides will bear the blame."
The three men bowed silently.
"You, Nathan," he went on, "will come with me, for you are not wanted here, but your presence is necessary at. Cerro Prieto, where our comrades are encamped."
"I will follow you," the young man replied, laconically.
"Good! Now, you others, bear this carefully in mind:—Our enemies will never suppose that I have made such a mistake as to bring my prisoner back here; for that is so absurd, that the idea will never enter their heads; so you can be at ease, and no one will trouble your peace of mind. Tomorrow, so soon as the moon rises, you will make the girl put on an Indian dress, mount her, and come to me at Cerro Prieto. Immediately after your arrival we shall start."
"Good!" Fray Ambrosio answered. "We will take care."
"I expect so; for, if you do not, I wouldn't give a cuartillo for your accursed hide, my reverend friend."