“Speak!” said Fabian.
“One point seems to me doubtful. I do not know whether the crime you attribute to this noble cavalier was committed by him; but, admitting that to be the case, have you any right to condemn him? In accordance with the laws of our frontier, where no court may be held, it is only the nearest relatives of the victim who are entitled to claim the blood of the murderer.
“Don Tiburcio’s youth was passed in this country. I knew him as the adopted son of Marcos Arellanos.
“Who can prove that Tiburcio Arellanos is the son of the murdered lady?
“How, after so many years, can it be possible for this hunter, formerly a sailor, to recognise in the midst of these solitudes, the young man, whom as a child he beheld only for an instant on a foggy night?”
“Answer, Bois-Rose,” said Fabian, coldly.
The Canadian again rose.
“I ought, in the first place, to state,” said the old hunter, “that it was not only for a few moments on a foggy night that I saw the child in question. During the space of two years, after having saved him from certain death, I kept him on board the vessel in which I was a sailor.
“The features of his son could not be more deeply impressed upon the memory of a father than those of that child were on mine.
“How then can you affirm that it is impossible I should recognise him?