I drank up the wine. It made me feel more composed and tranquil.
After a moment’s silence he opened the conversation with the abrupt interrogatory, “What do you know of me?”
“Your name and calling; nothing more.”
“More than is guessed at here;” and he pointed significantly to the door. “Who told you thus much of me?”
“A friend, whom you saw at Santa Fé.”
“Ah! Saint Vrain; a brave, bold man. I met him once in Chihuahua. Did he tell you no more of me than this?”
“No. He promised to enter into particulars concerning you, but the subject was forgotten, the caravan moved on, and we were separated.”
“You heard, then, that I was Seguin the Scalp-hunter? That I was employed by the citizens of El Paso to hunt the Apache and Navajo, and that I was paid a stated sum for every Indian scalp I could hang upon their gates? You heard all this?”
“I did.”
“It is true.”