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The Canadian ran on for some moments, until unable longer to restrain himself he paused, and cried out, at the risk of exposing himself to some ambushed enemy: "Hola! Pepe! where are you?" "Here!" answered the voice of the ex-carabinier. "We are here, straight before you Don Fabian and myself. Come on!"
And with ardent eyes fixed upon the mass of riches before him, the ex-carabinier fell upon his knees. Passions long kept under seemed to rush back into his heart; a complete transformation took place in him, and the sinister expression of his face recalled to mind the hour of crime, when twenty years before he had bargained for the price of blood.
His spirit, troubled with a few strange words he had heard from Bois-Rose and Pepe, was full of hope that the latter would be able to complete the revelation just begun; and he waited with anxious silence to hear what the ex-carabinier might say. But the latter was silent.
By cutting the matter short for you, I have taken the remorse upon myself; and so the affair is ended." "The rascal knows what he is about, undoubtedly," remarked the ex-carabinier. "Yes," replied Cuchillo, evidently flattered, "I pride myself upon being no fool, and upon having some notion of the scruples of conscience. I have taken your doubts upon mine.
"The wretch," said the ex-carabinier, "was not worth the cord which might have hung him, nor the bullet that would have sent him out of the world." A piercing cry, a cry which rose from the abyss which drowned their voices and was heard above the roar of the cascade, caused Fabian to stretch his head forward and withdraw it again in horror.
I do not know who committed the crime, and have nothing further to say." As he finished speaking, Bois-Rose again covered his head, and seated himself in silence. A mournful silence followed this declaration. Fabian lowered his flashing eyes for an instant to the ground, then raised them, calm and cold, to the face of the ex-carabinier, whose turn had now come to speak.
When I take a fancy to people, I sacrifice myself for them. It is a fault of mine. When I saw, Don Tiburcio, that you had so generously pardoned me the blow the scratch I inflicted upon you I did my best to deserve it: the rest must be settled between me and my conscience." "Ah!" sighed Fabian, "I hoped yet to have been able to pardon him." "Why trouble yourself about it?" said the ex-carabinier.
"An enormous sum! it was but a very fair price, and at any rate I should have lost it," cried Cuchillo, recovering all his habitual impudence of manner, on seeing the change that had taken place in the conduct and tone of the ex-carabinier.
As soon as the features of Tiburcio came fairly under the light, the trappers recognised him as the young man they had met at La Poza; but the ex-carabinier was struck with some idea which caused him to make an involuntary gesture. The Canadian, on the other hand, regarded the new-comer with that expression of condescending kindness which age often bestows upon youth.
"Approach," said Fabian to the ex-carabinier, "and say," added he, with forced calmness, "what you know of me to this man whose lips have dared to apply to me a name which he only deserves."
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