yet I never said a word about it."

"Didn't you indeed? what's that to me? I shall speak as I please, Senor
Baraja, and as loudly as I please too," added he, placing his hand upon
the hilt of his knife.

"Yes," coolly answered Baraja, "I know you use words _that cause your
friends to drop dead_; but these words are harmless at a distance--
besides I have got a tongue as sharp as yours, Senor Cuchillo."

As Baraja said this, he drew his knife from its sheath--in which action
he was imitated by his antagonist--and both placed themselves
simultaneously in an attitude for fight.

Oroche coolly took up his mandolin--which at the interference of
Cuchillo he had laid aside--and, like a bard of ancient times was,
preparing to accompany the combat with a chant, when Diaz suddenly
interposed between the two champions.

"For shame, gentlemen!" cried he; "what! two men made to be mutual
friends, thus to cut each other's throats for a few paltry dollars! on
the eve too of becoming the owners of a hundred times as much! Have I
not understood you to say, Senor Cuchillo, that you were to be the guide
of our expedition? Your life is no more your own, then; it belongs to
us all, and you have no right to risk it. And you, Senor Baraja! you
have not the right to attempt the life of our guide. Come! put up your
knives, and let there be no more of this matter."

This speech recalled the two combatants to their senses. Cuchillo
remembering the grand interest he had in the success of the expedition,
and perceiving that the risk of life was playing a little too high--for
a combat of this sort usually ends in the death of one or the other--
gave ready ear to the counsel of Diaz. Baraja, on his side, reflected
that the dollars he had already pocketed might be better employed than
in defraying the expenses of his own funeral; and on this reflection was
equally ready to desist from his intention.

"Be it so, then!" cried Cuchillo, speaking first; "I sacrifice my
feelings to the common good."

"And I," said Baraja, "I am willing to follow so noble an example. I
disarm--but--I shall play no more."

The knives were again stuck into their scabbards, and the two
adversaries mutually extended their hands to one another.

At this moment, Diaz, by way of preventing any allusion to the recent
quarrel, suddenly turning to Cuchillo, demanded:

"Who, Senor Cuchillo, is this young man whom I saw riding by your side
as you came up to the hac