ou learnt?"

"Nothing," replied Cuchillo.

"Nothing!"

"No; the young man could tell me nothing, since he knew nothing himself.
He has no secrets for me."

"What! does he not suspect the existence of the Golden Valley?"

"He knows no more of it than of the Garden of Eden," replied Cuchillo,
with a confident swagger.

"What was bringing him to the hacienda, then--for that is upon the
route? He must have some object in coming this way."

"O yes!--he came to ask Don Augustin to take him into his service as a
vaquero."

"It is evident," said the Spaniard, in a tone of mockery, "that you have
gained his full confidence and know all about him."

"I flatter myself, my perspicacity--"

"Is only equalled by the tenderness of your conscience," interrupted Don
Estevan, still keeping up his tone of raillery. "Well, but has this
young man not confided to you any other secret? You have had a long
ride together, and an opportunity to talk of many things. For instance,
has he said nothing to you about an affair of the heart?--has he not
told you he was in love?"

"Por Dios! Who could Tiburcio be in love with in these deserts? The
poor devil is likely to think more of a good horse than a pretty girl."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the Spaniard, with a mocking laugh that sent a
shivering through the frame of Cuchillo. "Well, well! friend Cuchillo,
your youth promised better than this. If your conscience is as callous
as your perspicacity is obtuse--which God forbid--it is not likely to
interfere with your sleep."

"What do you mean, senor?" demanded Cuchillo, evidently confounded by
the reproach.

"I fear, my friend, that in the only good action you have ever done, you
have made a bad hand of it."

"Good action!" repeated Cuchillo, embarrassed to know at what epoch of
his life he had done such a thing.

"Yes--in saving this young man's life."

"But it was you who did that good action: as for me, it was only a
lucrative one."

"Be it so. I will lend it to you, notwithstanding the proverb which
says we should only lend to the rich. But now hear what I have
ascertained--I, who do not boast either of my scruples of conscience or
of my perspicacity. This young man has in his pocket, at this moment, a
written direction of the route to the Golden Valley; moreover, he is
passionately in love with Dona Rosarita, for whom he would give all the
gold in this valley, or all the gold in the world, and all the horses in
Sonor