Part 43 (1/2)
”What! continue my journey?” the monk asked timidly; ”Do you intend to abandon me then?”
”Why not? I have already wasted too much time with you, and must attend to my own affairs.”
”What?” the monk objected, ”After the interest you have so benevolently taken in me, you would have the courage to abandon me thus when almost dead, and not caring what may happen to me after your departure?”
”Why not? I do not know you, and have no occasion to help you.
Accidentally crossing this clearing, I noticed you lying breathless and pale as a corpse. I gave you that ease which is refused to no one in the desert; now that you have returned to life, I can no longer be of service to you, so I am off; what can be more simple or logical?
Goodbye, and may the demon, for whom you took me just now, grant you his protection!”
After uttering these words in a tone of sarcasm and bitter irony, the stranger threw his rifle over his shoulder, and walked a few paces toward his horse.
”Stay, in Heaven's name!” the monk exclaimed, as he rose with greater haste than with his weakness seemed possible, but fear produced the strength; ”What will become of me alone in this desert?”
”That does not concern me,” the stranger answered, as he coolly loosed the arm of his zarape, which the monk had seized; ”is not the maxim of the desert, each for himself?”
”Listen,” the monk said eagerly; ”my name is Fray Antonio, and I am wealthy: if you protect me, I will reward you handsomely.”
The stranger smiled contemptuously.
”What have you to fear? you are young, stout, and well armed; are you not capable of protecting yourself?”
”No, because I am pursued by implacable enemies. Last night they inflicted on me horrible and degrading torture, and I only managed with great difficulty to escape from their clutches. This morning accident brought me across two of these men. On seeing them a species of raging madness possessed me; the idea of avenging myself occurred to me; I aimed at them, and fired, and then fled, not knowing whither I was going, mad with rage and terror; on reaching this spot I fell, crushed and exhausted, as much through the sufferings I endured this night, as through the fatigues caused by a long and headlong race along abominable roads. These men are doubtless pursuing me; if they find me--and they will do so, for they are wood-rangers, perfectly acquainted with the desert--they will kill me without pity; my only hope is in you, so in the name of what you hold dearest on earth, save me! Save me, and my grat.i.tude will be unbounded.”
The stranger had listened to this long and pathetic pleading without moving a muscle of his face. When the monk ceased, with breath and argument equally exhausted, he rested the b.u.t.t of his rifle on the ground.
”All that you say may be true,” he answered drily, ”but I care as little for it as I do for a flash in the pan; get out of the affair as you think proper, for your entreaties are useless; if you knew who I am, you would very soon give up tormenting my ears with your jabbering.”
The monk fixed a terrified look on the strange man, not knowing what to say to him, or the means he should employ to reach his heart.
”Who are you then?” he asked him, rather for the sake of saying something than in the hope of an answer.
”Who I am?” he said, with an ironical smile, ”You would like to know.
Very good, listen in your turn; I have only a few words to say, but they will ice the blood in your veins with terror; I am the man called the White Scalper, the Pitiless one!”
The monk tottered back a few paces, and clasped his hands with an effort.
”Oh, my G.o.d!” he exclaimed, frenziedly; ”I am lost!”
At this moment the hoot of an owl was heard a short distance off. The hunter started.
”Some one was listening to us!” he exclaimed, and rushed rapidly to the side whence the signal came, while the monk, half dead with terror, fell on his knees, and addressed a fervent prayer to Heaven.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE WHITE SCALPER.