s, it is just the sort of
life I have been accustomed to; have I not always been exposed to
privations and the solitude of the desert plains? These torn calzoneras
and well-worn jacket are all that are left me--since I have now no
longer my poor horse. Better turn vaquero than be a beggar!"

"He knows nothing of the secret then," reflected Cuchillo, "since he is
meditating on an employment of this nature." Then raising his
voice:--"You are in truth, then, a complete orphan, amigo; and have no
one to mourn for you if you were to die--except myself. Have you by
chance heard anything of this grand expedition that is being organised
at Tubac?"

"No."

"Become one of it then. To an expedition of this kind a resolute young
fellow like you would be a valuable acquisition; and upon your part, an
expert gambusino, such as I fancy you must be--from the school in which
you have been taught--might make his fortune at a single stroke."

If he parry this thrust, muttered the outlaw to himself, it will be
proof positive that he knows nothing about it.

Cuchillo was thus pursuing his investigation with a twofold object,
sounding Tiburcio about the secret, while at the same time trying to
attach him to the expedition by the hope of gain. But cunning as was
the outlaw, he had to do with a party that was no simpleton. Tiburcio
prudently remained silent.

"Although between ourselves," continued Cuchillo, "I can tell you that I
have never been beyond Tubac, yet I am to be one of the guides of this
expedition. Now what say you?"

"I have my reasons," replied Tiburcio, "not to engage in it without
reflection. I therefore demand of you twenty-four hours to think it
over, and then you shall have my answer."

The expedition, of which this was the first news Tiburcio had heard,
might, in fact, ruin or favour his own projects--hence the uncertainty
he felt, and which he contrived so cleverly to conceal by his discreet
reserve.

"Very well," rejoined Cuchillo, "the thing will keep that long."

And with this the conversation was discontinued.

Cuchillo, joyed at being disembarrassed of his apprehension about the
secret, began carelessly whistling while he spurred forward his horse.
The greatest harmony continued between these two men, who, though they
knew it not, had each a motive of the deadliest hatred one against the
other. Suddenly, as they were thus riding along, the horse that carried
them stumbled upon the left fore-l