"Ah, ah," the general muttered in the same mocking way; "go on, my lad, you have forgotten to tell me your name."
"I have several; my real one is Oliver Clary the redskins have christened me the Sumach, and the white men of the prairie generally call me 'Death in the face.'"
"Death in the face?" the general repeated with a grin, "Perhaps we shall soon see whether you really deserve that name."
"No man should praise himself; still, I believe that there are few dangers I am not capable of confronting," he answered resolutely.
"We shall see, we shall see, gossip. Now give me a report of the mission with which you have been entrusted by the honourable scoundrels of whom you have so foolishly made yourself the scapegoat."
"It is easy to threaten a defenceless man," he muttered in a voice loud enough to be heard by the general.
Clary, without any hurry, felt in a pocket of the coat he wore under the zarapé, took out the despatches Father Sandoval had entrusted to him, and presented them to the general with a bow.
"The Mexican patriots," he said, "hope that your Excellency will deign to lay before the governor this humble petition, which contains the enunciation of their grievances, and the concessions they wish to obtain from his justice."
The general took the letter, crumpled it in his hand, and threw it on a table, without reading. There was a moment of mournful silence; the officers, who knew the general's violent and implacable character, awaited a tragical finale, and were especially alarmed by the unusual patience which their chief had displayed. The latter did not leave them long in doubt.
"Now, scoundrel," he continued in a rough voice, "you have said all, I think?"
"And I have listened to the end without interruption?"
"I am accustomed," he continued, "to be patient with people who are about to die."
"What!" the Canadian exclaimed, as he hurriedly fell back a pace.
"Did you suppose that, had it been otherwise, I should so long have listened to your impudent chatter; let him be strung up."
"Take care what you are going to do," the adventurer shouted, seizing the brace of pistols hidden beneath his zarapé, "I will defend my life to the last breath."
"It is your right," the general said with a laugh; "I will make use of it, be assured. Tomorrow you will have to account for my death to Count de Melgosa, whom you will have dishonoured by despising his safe conduct."