Things went on thus till the day of the battle of Cerro Pardo. In the morning, as usual, Fray Antonio entered his patient's room, whose cure was rapidly advancing, thanks to the efficacy of the oregano leaves. His wounds were almost cicatrized, and he felt his strength returning. "My friend," said the monk to him, "I have done all for you I morally could; you will do me the justice of saying that I nursed you like a brother." "I have only thanks to offer you," the wounded man said, stretching out his hand. "Much obliged," said Fray Antonio, as he took this hand; "today I have bad news for you." "Bad news?" the other repeated in surprise. "After all," the monk continued, "the news may be good. Still, to deal frankly with you, I do not believe it; I augur no good from what we are going to do." "I must confess that I do not at all understand you, so I should feel extremely obliged if you would explain yourself more clearly." "That is true. Indeed, you cannot suspect anything. In two words, this is the affair: the army has received orders to march forward this very morning." "So that----?" the wounded man asked. "I am, to my great regret," the monk said with a crafty smile, "compelled to leave you behind." "Hum!" the White Scalper mattered in some alarm. "Unless," Fray Antonio continued, "as I dare not hope, we beat the Mexicans, in which case you are certain to see me again." The patient seemed to grow more and more restless about the position in which he ran a risk of being left. "Did you come solely to tell me that?" he asked. "No. I wished to make you a proposal." "What is it?" the other eagerly asked. "Listen. I picked you up in a most desperate state." "That is true: I allow it." "Although some people say," Fray Antonio continued, "that you received your wounds in fighting against us, and, indeed, some of our men declare themselves certain of the fact, I would not put faith in their words. I know not why, but since I have been nursing you, I have grown to take an interest in you; I should not like the cure I have carried on hitherto so successfully, to break down. This is what I propose: about one hundred miles from the spot where we now are, there is an encampment of white men and half-breeds, over whom I possessed considerable influence some time back. I believe that they have not yet quite forgotten me, and that anyone joining them as from me, would meet with a kindly reception. Will you go there? It is a risk to run." "How could I perform this journey in my present state of weakness and prostration?" "That need not trouble you. Four men, who are devoted to me, will conduct you to my old friends." "Oh, if that be the case," the Scalper exclaimed eagerly, "I gladly accept. If I perished on the road, I would prefer that to remaining here alone." "I trust that you will not perish, but reach your destination all right. So that is agreed. You will go?" "With the greatest pleasure. When do we start?"