We have said that Doña Marianita, in looking round her, fancied she saw the body of a man stretched on the ground a few paces from the fire. The maiden was not mistaken; it was really a man she saw, carefully gagged and bound. It was in a word, one of the two bandits who had pursued her so long, and the one whom the stranger had almost killed with a blow of his rifle butt.
After recommending Don Ruiz to be patient by a wave of his hand, the stranger rose, walked straight up to the bandit, threw him on his shoulders, and laid him at the feet of the young Mexican, perhaps rather roughly for the pirate, in spite of the thorough Indian stoicism he affected, could not suppress a stifled yell of pain.
"Who is this man, and what do you purpose doing with him?" Don Ruiz asked, with some anxiety.
"This scoundrel," the stranger answered, harshly, "was one of the band that attacked you; we are going to try him."
"Try him?" the young gentleman objected; "We?"
"Of course," the stranger said, as he removed the bandit's gag, and unfastened the rope that bound his limbs. "Do you fancy that we are going to trouble ourselves with the scoundrel till we find a prison in which to place him, without counting the fact that, if we were so simple as to do so, the odds are about fifty to one that he would escape from us during the journey, and slip through our fingers like an opossum, to attack us a few hours later at the head of a fresh band of pirates of his own breed. No, no; that would be madness. When the snake is dead, the venom is dead, too; it is better to try him."
"But by what right can we constitute ourselves the judges of this man?"
"By what right?" the stranger exclaimed, in amazement. "The Border law, which says, 'Eye for eye; tooth for tooth.' Lynch law authorizes us to try this bandit, and when the sentence is pronounced, to execute it ourselves."
Don Ruiz reflected for a moment, during which the stranger looked at him aside with the most serious attention.
"That is possible," the young man at length answered; "perhaps you are right in speaking thus. This man is guilty he is evidently a miserable assassin covered with blood; and, had my sister and myself fallen into his hands, he would not have hesitated to stab us, or blow out our brains."
"Well?" the stranger remarked.
"Well," the young man continued, with generous animation in his voice; "this certainly does not authorize us in taking justice into our own hands; besides, my sister is saved."
"Then it is your opinion "
"That as we cannot hand this man over to the police, we are bound to set him at liberty, after taking all proper precautions that he cannot injure us."
"You have, doubtless, carefully reflected on the consequences of the deed you advise?"
"My conscience orders me to act as I am doing."
"Your will be done!" and, addressing the bandit, who throughout the conversation had remained gloomy and silent, though his eyes constantly wandered from one to the other of the speakers, he said to him, "Get up!"
The pirate rose.
"Look at me," the stranger continued; "do you recognise me?"
"No," the bandit said.
The stranger seized a lighted brand, and held it up near his face.
"Look at me more carefully, Kidd," he said, in a sharp, imperious voice.
The scoundrel, who had bent forward, drew himself back with a start of fear.
"Stronghand!" he exclaimed, in a voice choked by dread.
"Ah!" the horseman said, with a sardonic smile; "I see that you recognise me now."
"Yes," the bandit muttered. "What are your orders?"
"I have none. You heard all we have been saying, I suppose?"
"All."
"What do you think of it?"
The pirate did not answer.
"Speak, and be frank! I insist."
"Hum!" he said, with a side-glance.
"Will you speak? I tell you I insist."
"Well!" he answered, in a rather humbling voice, but yet with a tinge of irony easy to notice; "I think that when you hold your enemy, you ought to kill him."
"That is really your opinion?"
"Yes."
"What do you say to that?" the stranger asked, turning to Don Ruiz.
"I say," he replied, simply, "that as this man is not my enemy, I cannot and ought not to take any vengeance on him."
"Hence?"
"Hence, justice alone has the right to make him account for his conduct. As for me, I decline."
"And that is truly the expression of your thoughts?"
"On my honour, Caballero. During the fight I should not have felt the slightest hesitation in killing him for in that case I was defending the life he tried to take; but now that he is a prisoner, and unarmed, I have no longer aught to do with him."
In spite of the mask of indifference the stranger wore on his face, he could not completely hide the joy he experienced at hearing these noble sentiments so simply expressed.
There was a moment's silence, during which the three men seemed questioning each other's faces. At length Stronghand spoke again, and addressed the bandit, who remained motionless, and apparently indifferent to what was being said
"Go! You are free!" he said, as he cut the last bonds that held him. "But remember, Kidd, that if it has pleased this Caballero to forget your offences, I have not pardoned them. You know me, so do your best to keep out of my way, or you will not escape, so easily as this day, the just punishment you have deserved. Begone!"
"All right, Stronghand, I will remember," the bandit said, with a covert threat.
And at once gliding into the bushes, he disappeared, without taking further leave of the persons who had given him his life.
CHAPTER III
THE BIVOUAC
For some moments the bandit's hurried footsteps were audible, and then all became silent once again.
"You wished it," Stronghand then said, looking at Don Ruiz from under his bent brows. "Now, be certain that you have at least one implacable enemy on the prairie; for you are not so simple, I assume, as to believe in the gratitude of such a man?"
"I pity him, if he hates me for the good I have done him in return for the harm he wished to do me, but honour ordered me to let him escape."
"Yours will be a short life, Señor, if you are obstinate in carrying out such philanthropic precepts in our unhappy country."
"My ancestors had a motto to which they never proved false."
"And pray what may that motto be, Caballero?"
"Everything for honour, no matter what may happen," the young man said, simply.
"Yes," Stronghand answered, with a harsh laugh; "the maxim is noble, and Heaven grant it prove of service to you; but," he continued, after looking round him, "the darkness is beginning to grow less thick, the night is on the wane, and within an hour the sun will be up. You know my name, which, as I told you beforehand, has not helped you much."
"You are mistaken, Caballero," Don Ruiz interrupted him, eagerly; "for I have frequently heard the name mentioned, of which you fancied me ignorant."
Stronghand bent a piercing glance on the young man.
"Ah!" he said, with a slight tremor in his voice; "And doubtless, each time you heard that name uttered, it was accompanied by far from flattering epithets, which gave you but a poor opinion of the man who bears it."
"Here again you are mistaken, Señor; it has been uttered in my presence as the name of a brave man, with a powerful heart and vast intellect, whom unknown and secret sorrow has urged to lead a strange life, to fly the society of his fellow men, and to wander constantly about the deserts; but who, under all circumstances, even spite of the examples that daily surrounded him, managed to keep his honour intact and retain a spotless reputation, which even the bandits, with whom the incidents of an adventurous life too often bring him into contact, are forced to admire. That, Señor, is what this name, which you supposed I was ignorant of, recalls to my mind, and the way in which I have ever heard the man who bears it spoken of."