"A FRIEND."
On reading this strange missive, the young man let his head sink on his chest, and remained for a long time plunged in deep thought.
"What is to be done?" he muttered.
"Why go, hang it all!" Valentine answered; "Who knows whether this scrap of paper may not contain the salvation of all of us?"
"But suppose it is treachery?"
"Treachery! Nonsense, my friend, you must be joking. The Indians are thorough rogues and traitors, I grant; but they have a fearful terror of anything written, which they believe emanates from the genius of evil. No, this letter does not come from the Indians. As for the pirates, they can use a rifle very well, but are completely ignorant of a goose quill; and I declare, from here to Monterey on one side and to New York, on the other, you will not find one who knows how to write. This letter, therefore, emanates from a friend; but who that friend is, is more difficult to guess."
"Then your opinion is to grant the meeting?"
"Why not? Taking, of course, all the precautions usual in such a case."
"Must I go alone?"
"Canarios! people always go alone to such meetings: that is settled," Valentine said with a grin; "still, they are accompanied, and would be fools were they not."