Instead, he saw that his face was livid, that his lips were drawn back from his white teeth like a snarling dog, and that they were clicking together with a nervous chill.
“Señor Otega retire a moment, please, for I wish to ask our friend here of this man’s confession.”
The voice of the alcalde was hardly audible.
A glance at Buffalo Bill, and the Señor Otega saw a sign for him to go.
“I will soon join you, señor, as the alcalde will not detain me long,” said the scout pleasantly.
When the door closed behind Otega, the alcalde said in a low tone:
“Who made this confession you speak of?”
“I do not know the name of the man of the cowboy king’s band,” was the evasive reply.
“Ah! it was he?”
“Shall I tell you that the confession appeared like that of a man who sought to destroy you, alcalde; but where there is smoke you will always find fire, and were I to speak there are plenty to listen, though I myself might not believe that you can be guilty.