"Take care of what you are about to do, Señor Captain: I belong to the church, and this gown renders me inviolable." A mocking smile contracted the Captain's lips. "No matter for that," he replied, "it shall be stripped off you." Most of the troopers and arrieros, aroused by the loud voices of the monk and the officer, had gradually drawn nearer, and attentively followed the conversation. The Captain pointed to the monk, and addressed the soldiers. "Strip off the gown that covers that man," he said; "fasten him to a catalpa, and give him two hundred lashes with a _chicote_." "Villains!" the monk exclaimed, nearly out of his mind; "Any man of you who dares to lay hands on me I curse; he will be eternally condemned for having insulted a minister of the altar." The soldiers stopped in terror before this anathema, which their ignorance and stupid superstition robbed them of the courage to brave. The monk folded his arms, and addressed the officer triumphantly-- "Wretched madman," he said, "I could punish you for your audacity, but I pardon you. Heaven will undertake to avenge me, and you will be punished when your last hour arrives. Farewell! Make room for me to pass, fellows!" The dragoons, confused and timid, fell back slowly and hesitatingly before him; the Captain, forced to confess his impotence, clenched his fists, as he looked passionately around him. The monk had all but passed through the ranks of the soldiers, when he suddenly felt his arm clutched; he turned with the evident intention of severely reprimanding the man who was so audacious as to touch him, but the expression of his face suddenly changed on seeing who it was that stopped him, and looked at him craftily, for it was no other than the strange prisoner, the first cause of the insult offered him. "One moment, Señor Padre," the hunter said. "I can understand that these worthy fellows, who are Catholics, should fear your curse, and dare not lay a hand on you through their dread of eternal flames, but with me it is different. I am a heretic, as you know, hence I run no risk in taking off your gown, and, with your permission, I will do you that slight service." "Oh!" the monk replied, as he ground his teeth; "I will kill you, John, I will kill you, villain!" "Nonsense, threatened people live a long while," John replied, as he forced him to take off his monk's gown. "There," he continued, "now, my fine fellows, you can carry out your Captain's orders in perfect safety; this man is no more to you than the first comer."