“You must know,” replied Cuchillo, “that it is a custom of the gambusinos, before starting upon any expedition, to swear before the Holy Evangelists not to reveal the bonanzas they may find without the consent of their associates. This oath Arellanos took, and his death of course prevented him from betraying it.”
“You have said that after his return from his first expedition, you met him in Tubac. Was there no woman whom he may perchance have had in his confidence?”
“His wife only—he may have told it to her. But yesterday a vaquero gave me the news that she has lately died. For all that, she may have revealed the secret to her son.”
“Arellanos had a son then?”
“An adopted son—a young man whose father or mother no one knows anything about.”
Don Estevan could not repress an involuntary movement.
“This young fellow is, no doubt, the son of some poor devil of this province?” said the Spaniard, in a careless way.
“No,” replied Cuchillo, “he was born in Europe, and very likely in Spain.”
Arechiza appeared to fall into a reverie, his head bending towards his breast. Some souvenirs were disturbing his spirit.
“This much at least is known,” continued Cuchillo. “The commander of an English brig-of-war brought him to Guaymas. He stated that the child, who spoke both French and Spanish, had been captured in an affair between the brig and a French privateer. A sailor who was either killed in the fight or taken prisoner, was beyond doubt his father. The captain of the English brig, not knowing what to do with him, gave him to Arellanos—who chanced to be in Guaymas at the time—and Arellanos brought him up and has made a man of him—my faith! that he has. Young as the fellow is, there is not such a rastreador nor horse-tamer in the province.”