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Updated: April 30, 2025
These points did not escape the keen eyes of Cuchillo, who was one of those individuals who could read such dumb signs with an unfailing certainty. "Beyond a doubt," said he, taking another gulp from his bottle, "the traveller cannot be far off." His conjecture proved correct. A few moments after, the body of a man was seen by the side of the path, lying upon the ground, and perfectly motionless.
But the light proved disadvantageous to Baraja and Oroche, for it enabled Don Estevan to perceive that they were far from steady in their seats. "Why, these fellows are drunk!" cried he, turning upon the guide a look of furious reproach. "Are these the assistants you count upon?" "True, your honour," replied Cuchillo, "they are not exactly sober; but I hope soon to cure them.
Two dangerous enemies were approaching him; Cuchillo with wounded self-esteem, and purposes of vengeance that caused, him to grind his teeth as he thought of them; and Don Estevan, smarting at the discovery of such an obstacle to his ambition.
Cuchillo, however, knowing that they were not in a fit state for inspection regarded them with an anxious glance. As Don Estevan was about to mount, the outlaw rode up to him, and pointing to the others with an expressive gesture, said, "If your honour desires me to act as guide, and give the order of march, I am ready to enter upon my duties."
"The Senor Tragaduros y Despilfarro, will find the shade of one of these cottages more agreeable," interposed Cuchillo, who knew the senator of Arispe. He knew, moreover, that the latter had attached himself to the fortunes of Don Estevan, in default of better cause: and in hopes of repairing his own fortune, long since dissipated.
"It is Cuchillo," cried the servant; then, in a low voice, to Baraja, "Let the travellers take care when the will-o'-the-wisp dances on the plain!" That evening, as usual, Don Estevan watched in his tent, while his people reposed.
"Pardon your mother's murderer, Don Fabian! it would have been cowardice! To kill a man who cannot defend himself, is, I grant, almost a crime, even after five years' imprisonment. Our friend Cuchillo has saved us the embarrassment of choosing: that is his affair. What do you say, Bois-Rose?"
"Do you wish the proofs? if you do you shall have them but I may tell you they are of a nature to make you shudder from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet." "No matter; I should like to hear them," said Cuchillo in a suppressed voice. "I will not speak of your conscience mark that well, Cuchillo!
"Mercy, mercy!" he cried, "in the name of your mother for Dona Rosarita's sake, who loves you, for I know that she loves you I heard " "What?" cried Fabian, in his turn rushing towards Cuchillo, but the question expired upon his lips. Spurned along the earth by the carabinier's foot Cuchillo with head and arms stretched back was hurled into the abyss! "What have you done, Pepe?" exclaimed Fabian.
In this arrangement Cuchillo exhibited the consummate skill of the practiced bandit. Don Estevan, without offering any opposition to his plan, rode off as directed, in company with Diaz; while the outlaw, with his two chosen acolytes turned their horses' heads in the direction of the fire.
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