“I wish I was as sure of getting the gold as I am that Casimiro will keep his appointment,” said Fraser smiling. “Don’t judge him by your watch. The sun will govern his movements.” Scarcely had he spoken when the Scotchman sprang suddenly to his feet and started rapidly upon his crutches toward a group of trees about two hundred yards away on the opposite side of the little valley. Brent looked and saw a man standing there motionless. Uncertain of his welcome, the young man waited until his friend should explain his unexpected appearance at the tryst. He saw the two men meet, greet each other, and engage in conversation. Then they came slowly toward the spring, talking earnestly together. As they drew near, Brent watched the splendid figure of the Patagonian with growing surprise and admiration. He could not believe it was a man of ninety, this proud, unbent form with the bearing of an athlete, the reserved vigor of a retired gladiator. His face alone and the white hair upon his great bare breast gave token of age. His features were Caucasian in type, almost Grecian in mold. The eyes were dark, still brilliant and searching, but they had in them even greater depths of melancholy than Fraser had described. Brent felt before a word had been spoken an involuntary springing up within him of the same implicit confidence in this man which he had been unable to understand in his friend. He felt himself in the presence of one who commanded something deeper than respect--a savage perhaps, but a personified force and power and wisdom such as the young man had never encountered before. He approached the newcomer with a deference which was not assumed and greeted him with some words in the native tongue which Fraser had taught him. Casimiro received him gravely but kindly. He accepted the outstretched hand and said a word or two of welcome which Brent was delighted to find he could understand. “I have told Cacique Casimiro,” said Fraser, “that it is to your assistance that I owe my ability to keep my promise here to-day, that I owe you much in many ways, that I have made you my friend and partner, that in all things you will be to him and his people as I am, and that you are more worthy than I to be intrusted with the mission he has offered me.” Brent endeavored in a mixture of Spanish and the native language of the Patagonian to express his thanks for the welcome and his desire to render to him and to his people every service in his power. Casimiro watched the young man keenly for some moments. Presently he said gravely: “Your words are good, young man, which is nothing. Your face is true, which is much. I trust your friend, who is my friend, therefore I trust you. It shall be as he says.” And the old chief offered his hand, which the young man took with genuine pride at the honor which he felt had been conferred upon him.