"Thank you," said Stephens, with quiet sarcasm; "now I think we can begin. Don Nepomuceno, will you pour in the silver?"
The bag was untied, and from the mouth of it a stream of big white round coins rattled into the opposite scale. Bigger and bigger grew the heap; the flickering torchlight played on dollars from Mexico and dollars that bore the image and superscription of many an old Spanish king who reigned before Mexico was a republic, on coins stamped in the United States Mint, and on five-franc pieces that displayed the head of Louis Napoleon—pieces that had come over with the French army that for a while had supported the rickety throne of ill-fated Maximilian. And now the stream ran slower and slower, and the rifle began to lift; the Mexican stopped pouring, and taking a handful from the bag tossed them on to the pile one at a time. Gradually the rifle rose, the beam turned, the silver scale descended; yet one more dollar was thrown in and it touched the earth. The tale was complete.
"There's your silver, Mahletonkwa," said the American; "your rifle kicks the beam. Are you satisfied now?"
"I am satisfied," said the Navajo; "it is enough." He took a sack from one of his men and poured the glittering stream into it.
"Basta!" said Stephens. "Then it is settled. You acknowledge that my tongue is not double. I have done what I said I would do."
"And now," he went on, addressing the bystanders, "I have only one word more to say to you. Let bygones be bygones. The señorita has been brought back safe and unharmed, and the matter is over and done with. Let no man molest these people in any way for it, now or at any future time. If any man among you does so, he makes himself my enemy, for I am surety to the Indians in this. If he touches them, he must walk over my dead body. And to you, Navajos, I have one more word to say,"—he had caught sight while he was speaking of the sinister face of Backus among the crowd,—"be advised and go straight back to your own country. Don't hang about here; and above all don't touch whiskey. Take my advice and let the sun of to-morrow find you ten leagues from San Remo—and sober. I have spoken."
He turned away, and in company with Don Nepomuceno and his son retired to the house, while the Indians remounted their horses and filed off in the moonlight, and the assembly gradually dispersed.
Inside the house Stephens found Manuelita in the sitting-room, with various female friends and relations who had gathered to see the heroine of such an adventure and to hear her story. Her shining eyes and flushed cheeks made her look more bewitching than ever, but he saw how overstrained were her nerves, and he longed to turn out the cackling crowd and carry her off far away to some peaceful retreat where no fear or grief should ever dare to come near her again. But no sooner had he shown himself in the room than a stout old lady who had been Manuelita's nurse in childhood arose and fell upon his neck and kissed him heartily.
"Blessings on you!" she cried, with tearful loquacity, "and may the Madre de Dios and all the blessed saints be with you and reward you for your goodness." She clasped him to her heart. "You are a hero," she said, "a perfect hero! you have brought us back my dear child safe and unharmed from the clutches of those anathematised Indians, whom may the devil fly away with!"