emned until I heard the culprit say:

"What would you have, sir? It was my destiny. I could not prevent
myself from doing what I did."

"Every fault merits chastisement," I would reply; "but choose between
the deputy-governor and me--by which do you wish to be chastised?"

The reply was always the same.

"Kill me, if you will, master; but do not give me up to my own
countrymen."

I awarded the punishment, and it was inflicted by my guards. When this
was over, I presented the Indian with a cigar, as a token of pardon,
I uttered a few kind words to him to induce him not to commit any fresh
faults, and he went away without hearing any malice to his judge. I
had, perhaps, been severe, but I had been just; that was enough. The
order and discipline I had established were a great support for me
in the minds of the Indians; they gave me a positive influence over
them. My calmness, my firmness, and my justice--those three great
qualities without which no government is possible--easily satisfied
these natures, still untrained and unsophisticated. But one thing,
however, disquieted them. Was I brave? This is what they were ignorant
of, and frequently asked of one another. They spurned the idea of being
commanded by a man who might not be intrepid in the face of danger. I
had indeed made several expeditions against banditti, but they had
produced no result, and would not serve as proofs of my bravery
in the eyes of the Indians. I very well knew that they would form
their definite opinion upon me from my conduct in the first perilous
extremity we should encounter together. I was therefore determined
to undertake anything, that I might show myself at least equal to
the best and bravest of all my Indians: everything was comprised in
that. I felt the imperious necessity of showing myself not only equal
but superior in the struggle, by preserving my self-possession.

An opportunity at length offered.

The Indians look upon buffalo hunting as the most dangerous of all
their wild sports, and my guards often said they would rather stand
naked at twenty paces from the muzzle of a carbine than at the same
distance from a wild buffalo. The difference they said is this, that
the ball of a carbine may only wound, but the horn of a buffalo is
sure to kill. I took advantage of the terror they had of this animal,
and one day declared, with the utmost possible coolness, my intention
to hunt one. They then made use of all their eloquence to