that whoever won the first prize--this
mare of which you may have heard--should also win the right to finish
this wretched man. I gained this infamous distinction; and here am I, on
my way to claim my prize and commit a murder! Ay, I may as well employ
the true word,--it is nothing less than a murder! I have not even the
poor excuse of revenge. I cannot pretend that he ever injured me,--nay,
I have not even seen him; I never heard of his name till two days
ago; nor, even now, could I succeed in finding him out, if I were not
provided with certain clews at Houston, and certain guides by whose aid
I am to track him. My oath is pledged: I swore it solemnly that, if the
lot fell upon me, I 'd do the deed, and do it I will; yet, I am equally
resolved never to survive it."--Here I produced my revolver.--"If this
barrel be for the unlucky Chico, this other is for myself!"

"What name did you say?" cried he, with a faltering voice, while his
hand, as he laid it on my arm, shook like ague.

"Chico, the wretch is called," I said, fixing a cap on my pistol.

"And why call him a wretch, my son? Has he ever injured you? How do you
know that he is not some poor, kindly hearted creature, the father
of five children, one of them a baby, perhaps? How can you tell the
difficulties by which he gains his living, and the hazard to which he
exposes his life in doing so? And is it to injure such a man you will go
down to your own grave an assassin?"

"I'll do it," said I, doggedly; "I'll keep my oath."

"Such an oath never bound any man; it is a snare of Satan."

"So it may,--I 'll keep it," said I, beating the deck with my foot, with
the dogged determination of one not to be turned from his purpose.

"Kill in cold blood a man you never saw before?"

"Just so; I am not going to think of him, when I set so little store by
myself; I only wish the fellow were here now, and I'd show you whether
I'd falter or not."

"Poor Chico,--I could weep for him!" said he, blubbering.

"Keep your pity for _me_," said I,--"I, that am bound by this terrible
oath, and must either stamp myself a coward or a murderer. As for Chico,
I believe a more worthless wretch never existed,--a poor, mean-spirited
creature, whose trade is to be a spy, and by whose cursed machinations
many a fine fellow has been ruined."

"You are all wrong, sir," said the Padre, warmly. "I know the man
myself; he is an amiable, kind-hearted being, that never harmed any
one."

"H