mpadre_," purred Diego, "would it not be well for you to
loosen this bit of thread, that we may make our way back to the
village? _Caramba!_ but it cuts sore--and I am soft, my friend, for I
have been ill."

Rosendo's wrath flared up anew. "What made you ill, _cayman_?" he
shouted, drawing nearer to the shrinking Diego and shaking a great
fist in his face. "What made you ill, buzzard? _Caramba!_ I would that
your illness had carried you off and saved me the task of sending you
down to purgatory!"

Diego became thoroughly alarmed again. "But--Rosendo--_caro amigo_,
let us reason together! Ah, _compadre_--loosen but a little this rope
which cuts into my tender skin as your bitter words do into my soul!"

"_Na_, vulture, but you will drown more quickly thus!" retorted
Rosendo, his huge frame trembling with agitation.

Diego's heart stopped. Then he sought to collect himself. He was
in a desperate plight. But the man before him was an ignorant _peon_.
It was not the first time that he had set his own wit against
another's brute strength. The ever-present memory of the girl
became more vivid. It glowed before him. What was it she had said?
"You see only your thoughts of me--and they are very bad!" Was he
seeing now only his own bad thoughts? But she had said they were
unreal. And this episode--_Hombre!_ he would not be afraid. His
thought was vastly more powerful than that of a simple _peon_! He
smiled again at his fear.

"But, _amigo_," he resumed gently, "if you had wished to drown me, why
did you bring me here? But--ah, well, I have long been prepared to go.
I have been sadly misunderstood--disbelieved--persecuted! Ah, friend
Rosendo, if you could know what I do--but--_Bien_, it is of no
consequence now. Come, then, good fellow, despatch me quickly! I have
made my peace with God." Diego ceased talking and began to murmur
prayers.

Rosendo stared at him in amazement. The wind was being taken from his
sails. Diego noted the effect, and resumed his speech. His voice was
low and soft, and at times great tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Rosendo, friend, I wish to go. I weary of life. There is no stain
upon my soul. And yet, I grieve that you must tarnish yours with my
blood. But," his eyes brightening and his tone becoming more
animated, "Rosendo, I will pray the blessed Virgin for you. When I am
with her in paradise I will ask her to beg the gentle Saviour to
forgive you. _Bien_, good friend, we shall all be together