Gode shared my feelings, and became as desponding as myself. The light humour of the voyageur disappeared. The song of the Canadian boatman was heard no longer; but, in its place, the "sacre" and English exclamations were spluttered plentifully, and hurled at everything Mexican. I resolved at length to put an end to our sufferings. "This life will never do, Gode," said I, addressing my compagnon. "Ah! monsieur, nevare! nevare it vill do. Ah! ver doll. It is like von assemblee of le Quaker." "I am determined to endure it no longer." "But what can monsieur do? How, capitaine?" "By leaving this accursed place, and that to-morrow." "But is monsieur fort? strongs beau-coup? strongs to ride?" "I will risk it, Gode. If I break down, there are other towns on the river where we can halt. Anywhere better than here." "C'est vrai, capitaine. Beautiful village down the river. Albuquerque; Tome: ver many village. Mon Dieu! all better, Santa Fe is one camp of tief. Ver good for us go, monsieur; ver good." "Good or not, Gode, I am going. So make your preparations to-night, for I will leave in the morning before sunrise." "It will be von grand plaisir to makes ready." And the Canadian ran from the room, snapping his fingers with delight. I had made up my mind to leave Santa Fe at any rate. Should my strength, yet but half restored, hold out, I would follow, and if possible overtake the caravan. I knew it could make but short journeys over the deep sand roads of the Del Norte. Should I not succeed in coming up with it, I could halt in Albuquerque or El Paso, either of which would offer me a residence at least as agreeable as the one I was leaving. My surgeon endeavoured to dissuade me from setting out. He represented that I was in a most critical condition, my wound far from being cicatrised. He set forth in most eloquent terms the dangers of fever, of gangrene, of haemorrhage. He saw I was obstinate, and concluded his monitions by presenting his bill. It amounted to the modest sum of one hundred dollars! It was an extortion. What could I do? I stormed and protested. The Mexican threatened me with "Governor's" justice. Gode swore in French, Spanish, English, and Indian. It was all to no purpose. I saw that the bill would have to be paid, and I paid it, though with indifferent grace. The leech disappeared, and the landlord came next. He, like the former, made earnest entreaty to prevent me from setting forth. He offered a variety of reasons to detain me. "Do not go; for your life, senor, do not!" "And why, good Jose?" I inquired. "Oh, senor, los Indios bravos! los Navajoes! carambo!" "But I am not going into the Indian country. I travel down the river, through the towns of New Mexico."