For Tiburcio knowing the secret of the Golden Valley, Don Estevan cared
little--that was a matter of secondary importance; but Tiburcio's love
reciprocated by Dona Rosarita was a very different affair. This at once
presented a series of obstacles to the ambitious projects of the
Spaniard. Tiburcio then must be got out of the way at all hazards, and
at any price. Such are the terrible exigencies of ambition.

It only remained to adopt some plan; but the Spaniard was not then in
the spirit to think of one. He was writhing at the inadvertence that
had just happened.

"The clumsy fool!" he muttered, but loud enough for his companion to
hear him.

"Is it of me your excellency is speaking?" inquired Cuchillo, in a tone
that savoured strongly of his usual impudence.

"Who else could I mean, you sot? You who neither know how to use
strength or stratagem! A woman has accomplished what you could not do!
I have told you that this child is a giant to you; and had it not been
for me--"

"Had it not been for you," interrupted the outlaw, "this young fellow
would not now have been living to trouble us."

"How sir?" demanded Don Estevan.

"Last night, as I was bringing him to your bivouac, the fellow did an
outrage to my honour, and actually threatened me. I was about putting
an end to our differences by a shot from my carbine, when your precious
old fool of a servant, Benito, came galloping up, and of course I had to
renounce my design. So you see, the only good action I have ever done,
has brought me to grief. Such is the reward of our virtue!"

"Speak for yourself, my droll fellow!" said the Spaniard, whose pride
revolted at being thus classed with such company as the outlaw. "But if
that could be outraged which does not exist, may I ask what attempt this
young man made upon your honour?"

"I do not know myself--it was something that happened with my horse, who
has the fault--"

Cuchillo interrupted himself as one who has made an imprudent speech.

"The fault of stumbling in the left fore-leg?" added Don Estevan. "I
see--this old history of the murder of Arellanos."

"I did not murder him," cried the outlaw, impudently. "I had reasons
not to like him; but I pardoned him, for all that."

"Oh! you are so magnanimous! But come, an end to these pleasantries.
It remains for you to get this young man out of the way. I have my
reasons for wishing it so--among others, he knows our secret. I gave
you a half