"'Tis a matter of life and death," said I.
"Death!" said he, "Death—they should all be dead and rotting, if I had my way." So saying, this strange man, whose face I had scarce seen, laid him down beyond the fire and composed himself to slumber.
"How then," I demanded, "will ye sleep here in the wild and no watch?"
"I will that!" said he. "I know the wilderness and I have endured much o' hardship o' late and as to watching, there's small need. The rogues you fell upon, being Spaniards, will doubtless be running yet and nigh unto Nombre, by now."
"How far is it hence?"
"Twelve leagues by road, but less the ways I travel."
"Good!" said I.
"Though 'tis hard going."
"No matter."
"Why, then, sleep, for we march at dawn. And my name is John."