"Do what you please with me," the wounded man answered with an effort; "I owe you too much to offer the slightest objection."
"The more so," Ruperto answered with a laugh, "because it would be perfectly useless; the reverend Father has undertaken your cure, and, whether you like it or no, you must follow his prescriptions."
At a sign from Fray Antonio, four powerful men raised the patient in their arms, and carried him into the rancho. It was he who Colonel Melendez had seen go in, when led by chance to the same rancho, he had for some minutes listened to, and surveyed what was going on inside. The rancho belonged to a rich Texan haciendero, a devoted partisan of the revolution, and who was delighted to place at the disposal of the Chiefs a retreat which he had built in happier times for a summer villa. This house, while agreeably situated, spacious, and well kept up, was abundantly provided, not only with everything indispensable for existence, but also with those thousand trifles and luxuries which are conventionally called comfort, and which rich persons, through lengthened habit, cannot do without.
The Chiefs were at first rather annoyed at the free and easy way in which Fray Antonio, without giving them notice, had encumbered them with a wounded stranger. But when they saw in what a pitiable state the poor fellow was, they made no further objection, but allowed the monk to instal him where he thought best. Fray Antonio did not allow the permission to be repeated. Aided by the master of the rancho, he transported the wounded man to a spacious and airy room, whose windows looked out on the sea, and in which the Scalper was placed in an admirably healthy condition.
So soon as the patient was laid in a bed expressly made for him—for in these torrid climates the inhabitants are accustomed to sleep on mats, or at the most in hammocks—the monk handed him a narcotic drink, which he requested him to swallow. The effect was almost immediate; a few minutes after he had drunk it, White Scalper fell into a calm and restorative sleep. The entire night passed without any incident; the wounded man slept for eight hours at a stretch, and when he awoke, he was no longer the same; he felt fresh, cheerful, and reposed.
Several days passed thus, during which Fray Antonio paid him the closest and most affectionate attention. If, at the first moment, the monk was unable to recognise the White Scalper, it was not long ere he did so by daylight; after carefully examining this man, whose appearance had really something strange and remarkable about it, his recollection returned, and he recognised the hunter so greatly feared on the prairie by the Redskins, and even by the whites, and to whom himself owed his life under such singular circumstances; hence, he was pleased at the opportunity chance afforded him of repaying his debt to this man. But as, on the other hand, the wounded man, either through obstinacy or defective memory, did not appear at all to remember him, the monk kept his discovery to himself, and continued his attentions to the wounded man without permitting himself the slightest allusion which might cause the other to suspect that he was recognised.
Things went on thus till the day of the battle of Cerro Pardo. In the morning, as usual, Fray Antonio entered his patient's room, whose cure was rapidly advancing, thanks to the efficacy of the oregano leaves. His wounds were almost cicatrized, and he felt his strength returning.
"My friend," said the monk to him, "I have done all for you I morally could; you will do me the justice of saying that I nursed you like a brother."
"I have only thanks to offer you," the wounded man said, stretching out his hand.
"Much obliged," said Fray Antonio, as he took this hand; "today I have bad news for you."