Red Cedar, on reaching the entrance of a narrow gorge, at the end of which was the bear's den, in the midst of a chaos of rocks, stopped a few minutes to regain breath, and make his final preparations. He dismounted, hobbled his horse, and gave it its forage, then, after assuring himself that his knife played easily in the sheath, and his rifle was in good order, he entered the defile.
The squatter walked in with outstretched neck, and eye and ear on the watch, when suddenly a hand was laid on his shoulder, and a hoarse laugh smote his ear. He turned with surprise, but this surprise was converted into terror at the sight of the man who, standing before him with arms folded on his chest, was regarding him with a look of mockery.
"Fray Ambrosio!" he exclaimed, as he fell back a step.
"Halloh, gossip," the latter said; "on my soul, you must be hard of hearing: I called you a dozen times, and you did not deign to answer me. Satanas! I was obliged to touch you before you would see that somebody wanted you."
"What is your business with me?" the squatter asked in an icy tone.
"What I want, gossip? That's a strange question: don't you know it as well as I do?"
"I do not understand you," Red Cedar said, still perfectly calm; "so explain yourself, if you please."
"I will do so, my master," the monk answered, with a mocking smile.
"But make haste, for I warn you that I am in a hurry."
"Can it be possible! Well, I have plenty of time, so you must find some to listen to me."