During the repast which threatened to degenerate into an orgy, two men alone had moderately applied themselves to the bottle; they were Sandoval and White Scalper. The Chief of the pirates, while exciting his guests to drink, was very careful to retain his sobriety and coolness. He examined with some anxiety the singular man whom chance had given him as a guest; this gloomy face caused him a feeling of discomfort for which he could not account. Still he did not dare question him, for the law of the desert prohibits the slightest inquiry being made of a stranger, so long as he thinks proper to maintain his incognito. Fortunately for Sandoval, whose impatience and curiosity momentarily increased, Ruperto had an equal desire to explain the object of his visit to the prairies. At the moment, therefore, when the private conversations, growing more and more animated, had become general, and each seemed to be trying which could shout the loudest, the Texan smote the table several times loudly with the pommel of his dagger to demand silence. The shouts stopped instantaneously, and all heads were turned towards him. "What do you want, Ruperto?" Sandoval asked him. "What do I want?" the other answered, whose tongue was growing dull under the influence of the numerous and copious draughts he had taken; "I want to speak." "Silence!" the Captain shouted in a stentorian voice; "now, go on, Ruperto! No one will interrupt you, even if you spoke till sunrise." "Demonios!" the Texan said, with a laugh, "I have no pretence to abuse your patience so long." "Act as you please, gossip: you are my guest, and more than that, an old acquaintance, which gives you the right to do whatever you please here." "Thanks for your gallantry, Captain; I must, in the first place, in my own name and in that of the persons who accompany me, offer you sincere thanks for your splendid hospitality." "Go on, go on," the Captain said, carelessly: "No, no; on the contrary, Caramba! A table so well served as yours is not to be found every day on the prairie. A man must be as ungrateful as a monk not to feel thankful." "Halloh!" the Captain said, laughingly, "Did you not tell me, when I met you this evening, that you were sent to me by Fray Antonio?" "I did, Captain." "A worthy monk," Sandoval observed; "he reminds one of the Rev. John Zimmers, a protestant minister, who was hung about ten years back at Baton Rouge, for bigamy. He was a very holy man! I remember that at the foot of the gallows he made the crowd an edifying speech, which drew tears from most of his hearers. But let us return to Fray Antonio; I hope that no accident has happened to him, and that he still enjoys good health." "When I left him his health was excellent. Still it is possible that he may be dangerously ill at this moment, or even dead." "Rayo de Dios! You alarm me, gossip. Explain yourself."