“Twenty-four, I should fancy,” replied the ex-coast-guard.
“Just what I was thinking,” said the Canadian, speaking in a tone of half soliloquy, while a melancholy expression appeared to tone down his rude physiognomy. “Yes, just the age he ought to be if still alive.”
“He! who are you talking of?” brusquely interrupted his companion, in whose heart the words of the Canadian seemed to find an echo.
“No matter,” said Bois-Rose, still speaking in a tone of melancholy; “the past is past; and when it has not been as one would have wished it, it is better forgotten. But come! let us have done with idle regrets and finish our supper—such souvenirs always spoil my appetite.”
“The same with me,” agreed Pepé, as he seized hold of a large mutton-bone, and commenced an attack upon it in a fashion that proved that his appetite was not yet quite gone.
After a while Pepé again broke the silence.
“If I had the pleasure,” said he, “of a personal acquaintance with this Don Augustin Peña, who appears to be the proprietor here, I would compliment him upon the fine quality of his mutton; and if I thought his horses were of as good a sort, I think I should be tempted to borrow one—one horse would never be missed out of the great herds we have seen galloping about, no more than a sheep out of his vast flocks; and to me a good horse would be a treasure.”
“Very well,” said the Canadian. “If you feel inclined for a horse, you had better have one; it will be no great loss to the owner, and may be useful to us. If you go in search of one, I can keep watch over this young fellow, who sleeps as if he hadn’t had a wink for the last month.”
“Most probably no one will come after him; nevertheless, Bois-Rose, keep your eye open till I return. If anything happens, three howls of the coyote will put me on my guard.”
As he said this, Pepé took up a lazo that lay near, and turning his face in the direction in which he was most likely to find a drove of horses, he walked off into the woods.