"And evil have been the consequences to me. The scoundrels who accompanied me abandoned me, like cowards, in the height of the storm, and took shelter I know not where; and then, to crown my troubles, two jaguars, magnificent animals, by the bye, rushed in pursuit of me; they pressed me so hard that I came and fell at your door like a mass. It is true I killed one of them, but the other was very nearly snapping me up, when you came to my assistance. Could I, after that, arrest the son of the man who had saved my life at the peril of his own? That would have been acting with the blackest ingratitude."
"Thanks, once more."
"No thanks; we are quits, that is all. I say nothing of some thousands of piastres you have given me; they will serve to stop the mouths of my lynxes. Only, let me beg of you, Don Ramón, keep a sharp eye upon your son; if he should fall a second time into my hands, I don't know how I could save him."
"Be at ease, in that respect, Don Inigo; my son will never fall into your hands again."
"The hacendero pronounced these words in so solemn and melancholy a tone, that the judge started at hearing them, and turned round saying,—
"Take care what you are about to do!"
"Oh, fear nothing," replied Don Ramón; "only, as I am not willing that my son should mount a scaffold, and drag my name in the mud, I must endeavour to prevent him."
At that moment the horse was led out, and the juez de letras mounted.
"Well, adieu, Don Ramón," he said in an indulgent voice; "be prudent, this young man may still reform; he is hot blooded, that is all."
"Adieu, Don Inigo Albaceyte," the hacendero replied, in so dry a tone that it admitted of no reply.