"Silence, you villains!" the squatter shouted, stamping his foot; "I do what I please, and no one that I know of has a right to interfere."
"You are mistaken, father," Sutter, said drily; "I, for instance, consider your conduct unworthy of a man."
"Not mentioning," the monk supported him, "that you place your confederates in a fix, which is not right."
"That is not the question," Nathan said; "if father likes to turn Puritan, that is his business, and I will not find, fault with him; but there is a time for everything. To my mind, when a man is surrounded by enemies and tracked like a wild beast, he ought not to put on a sheepskin, and pretend to be harmless."
"What do you mean?" the squatter asked impatiently; "Explain yourself, once for all, and let us make an end of this."
"I will do so," Nathan went on; "while you are sleeping in a deceitful security, your enemies are watching and constantly weaving the web in which they have hopes of enfolding you shortly. Do you fancy that we have not known your retreat for a long time? Who can hope to escape discovery in the desert? We did not wish, however, to disturb your repose till the moment arrived for doing so, and that is why you did not see us before today."
"Yes," the monk remarked; "but at present time presses: while you trust to the fine words of the French missionary, who cured you and lulls you to sleep, in order always to keep you under his thumb, your enemies are silently preparing to attack you, and finish with you once for all."
The squatter gave a start of amazement.
"Why, that man saved my life," he said.
The three men burst into a laugh.