Instead of calling Marcos Arellanos his father, had Tiburcio said his adopted father, his explanation might have elicited a different response from the Canadian. As it was, he only said in reply:
“It is the first time I have heard the name. It was your face that recalled to me some memories of events that happened—long, long ago—”
Without finishing what he meant to have said, the Canadian relapsed into silence.
Tiburcio, too, ceased speaking for a while; he was reflecting on some hopes that had suddenly sprung up within him. His meeting with the two trappers appeared to him not so much a mere chance as a providential circumstance. The secret which he possessed, almost useless to him alone, might be rendered available with the assistance of two auxiliaries such as they—it might become the key to the favour of Don Augustin. It was not without repugnance that he reflected on this means of winning the heart of Rosarita—or rather of purchasing it at the price of gold—for Tiburcio believed that it was closed against any more tender appeal. He had mentally resolved never to return to the hacienda; but notwithstanding this vow he still indulged in a slight remnant of hope—perhaps the echo of his own profound passion. This hope overcame his repugnance; and he resolved to make known his design to the trappers, and endeavour to obtain assistance in carrying it out.
With this view he again opened the conversation.
“You are a hunter by profession—I think I have heard you say?”
“Yes; that is the vocation both of my comrade and myself.”
“It is not a very profitable one, and yet attended with many dangers.”
“Ah! it is a noble calling, my boy! My fathers followed it before my time, and I, after a few years of interruption, have resumed the profession of my fathers. Unfortunately I have no son to succeed me; and I can say, without boasting, that when I am gone a brave and strong race perishes with me.”
“I, too,” said Tiburcio, “follow the profession of my father—who, as I have told you, was a gambusino.”