"What do I know? There is no lack of towns, I suppose, on the Indian border; we might, if absolutely necessary, return to the Paso del Norte, where we have friends, and are certain of a kind reception."
Red Cedar looked him full in the face, and said ironically—
"Out with your whole thought, señor Padre; you have an object in wishing to return to the Paso, so let me know it."
"Caspita, you are as clever as I am," the monk exclaimed, blushing the while; "what need have we to humbug one another?"
The squatter rose, and kicked back his stool.
"You are right," he said passionately, "let us deal openly with one another. I wish nothing better, and to give you an example, listen to me. You have never lost out of sight the reason that made you enter the desert; you have only one object, one desire, to reach the rich placer, the situation of which you learned by assassinating a man. Neither the fatigue you have endured, nor the peril you have incurred, has made you renounce your scheme; the hope of a rich crop of gold blinds you, and makes you mad. Is it so or not?"
"It is true," the monk coolly replied, "what next?"
"When our band was destroyed, and completely dispersed, this was the reasoning you employed—a reasoning," he added, with a bitter smile, "which does honour to your sagacity and firmness of character; 'Red Cedar all but knows the site of the placer. I must induce him to return with me to the Paso, to form another band, because if I leave him alone in the desert, so soon as my back is turned, he will go in search of the treasures, and carelessly discover it.' Have I not guessed aright, gossip?"
"Nearly so," the monk answered, furious at seeing his plans so clearly read through.
"I thought so," Red Cedar continued; "but, like all bad men, gangrened to the heart, you went beyond your object, by attributing to me the same sordid instincts you possess; and you thought that because I am an assassin, I may be a thief: that is the error in which you fell, gossip. Understand me," he said, stamping his foot violently; "were the coveted treasure at this moment beneath my heel, I would not stoop down to pick up a nugget. Gold is nothing to me, I despise it. When I consented to guide you to the placer you naturally assumed that avarice led me to do so; but you are mistaken; I had a more powerful and nobler motive—revenge. Now, do not trouble me more about your accursed placer, for which I care as little as I do for a nut. And with that, good night, gossip; I am going to sleep, or try to do so, and recommend the same to you."