“You could hardly guess, Señor Don Estevan, who is the man your generosity has saved—for I have brought him with me safe and sound, as you see?”
Without making answer, Don Estevan took from his purse the piece of gold he had promised, and handed it to Cuchillo.
“It is the young Tiburcio Arellanos to whom you have given life,” continued the outlaw. “As for me I only followed the dictates of my heart; but it may be that we have both done a very foolish action.”
“Why that?” asked the Spaniard. “This young man will be easily watched so long as he is near us; and I presume he is decided to be one of our expedition?”
“He has asked twenty-four hours to reflect upon it.”
“Do you think he knows anything of—”
“I have my fears,” replied Cuchillo, in a melancholy tone, little regarding the lie he was telling, and the purpose of which was to render the Spaniard suspicious of the man he had himself vowed to kill. “In any case,” continued he, with a significant smile, “we have saved his life, and that will serve as tit for tat.”
“What do you mean to say?”
“Only that my conscience assures me it will be perfectly tranquil if—if—Carramba!” added he, brusquely—“if I should send this young fellow to be broiled with his mother in the other world.”
“God forbid that!” exclaimed the Spaniard, in a lively tone. “What need? Admit that he knows all: I shall be in command of a hundred men, and he altogether alone. What harm can the fellow do us. I have no uneasiness about him. I am satisfied, and so must you be.”