"Come, come; that's a joke, is it not? For some motive or other you do not wish--which shows your prudence--to acquaint me with the object of your travel; but it is impossible that you do not really know in what spot you are, and the place to which you are going." "I repeat to you, caballero, that what I tell you is true. I have no motive for concealing the object of my travel; I am merely wandering on account of the unfaithfulness of a guide whom I had engaged, and who abandoned me some days ago." He reflected an instant, then taking me cordially by the hand: "Pardon me the absurd suspicions of which I am ashamed," said he, "but the situation in which I find myself must be my excuse; let us mount our horses, and get away from here. While we are on the road, we can talk; I hope soon you will know me better." "I need not know you more," I replied; "from the first moment I felt myself attached to you." "Thank you," said he, smiling. "To horse, to horse! We have a long journey to make." Five minutes later we were galloping away, leaving to the vultures that already wheeled in large circles above our heads with harsh and discordant cries, the corpses of the Indians killed during the combat. While we were proceeding, I related to the gaucho my life and adventures, as far as I thought necessary he should know. This recital pleased him by its singularity. It was easy to perceive that, notwithstanding the brusque and sometimes even harsh manner he affected, this man possessed a profound knowledge of the human heart, and great practical knowledge of life; and that he had for a long time frequented not only the best American society, but also visited Europe with advantage, and seen the world under its most varied phases. His elevated thoughts, always characterised by nobility of mind, his good sense, his lively, vigorous, and attractive conversation, interested me in him more and more; and although he kept the most complete silence as regards his personal circumstances, and had not even told me his name, I nevertheless felt the sentiment of sympathy with which he had at first inspired me continually increasing. We passed the whole day laughing and talking, at the same time rapidly advancing towards the rancho where we were to pass the night. "Look," said the gaucho to me, pointing out a slight column of smoke, which was ascending spirally towards the sky; "that is where we are going, and in a quarter of an hour we shall be there." "Thank God," I answered, "for I begin to feel fatigued." "Yes," said he to me, "you have not yet become used to long journeys; but patience, in a few days you will think nothing of it." "I hope so." "By-the-bye," said he, as if the thought suddenly occurred to him, "you have not yet told me the name of the pícaro who abandoned you." "Robbing me of a gun, a sabre, and a horse--things for which I have ceased to grieve." "How is that?" "Why, because it is probable that the bribón will not bring them back to me."