"Good; now look how he can have gone."
"That is exactly what I do not see."
"Because you are blind, or because you will not take the trouble."
"Oh, my friend, I swear—"
"Pardon, I am in error: it is because you cannot explain what you see."
"What?" Don Miguel said, slightly piqued by this remark.
"Certainly," Valentine went on phlegmatically; "and you shall confess I am in the right."
"I shall be delighted to do so."
In spite of his good sense, and the other great qualities with which he was gifted, Valentine had the weakness, common to many men, of liking, under certain circumstances, to, make a parade of his knowledge of desert life. This defect, which is very frequently found on the prairies, in no way injured his character, and was pardonable after all.
"You shall see," he said with that sort of condescension which persons who know a thing thoroughly, assume on explaining it to the ignorant: "Red Cedar has been here and has disappeared: I arrive and look: he cannot have flown away, or buried himself in the ground: hence he must absolutely have gone by some road a man can use; look at these leaves scattered over the rock, they are sign No. 1."