After saying this the Tigrero was silent, and his head sunk gloomily on his chest.
"Brother," Valentine said gently to him, slightly touching his shoulder to attract his attention, "you have forgotten to tell me the name of that influential person who had you turned out of his house, and treated you as an impostor."
"That is true," Don Martial answered; "his name is Don Sebastian Guerrero, and he is military governor of the province of Sonora."
The hunter quickly started to his feet with an exclamation of joy.
"Don Martial," he said, "you may thank God for decreeing that we should meet in the desert, in order that the punishment of this man should be complete."
Don Martial gazed at the hunter in amazement.
"What do you mean?" he asked him. "I don't understand you."
"You will soon do so, my friend," Valentine answered. "How long have you been roaming about this neighbourhood?"
"In that case you are well acquainted, I presume, with the mountains among which we are at this moment?"
"There is not a tree or a rock whose exact position I cannot tell, nor a wild beast trail which I have not followed."
"Good: are we far from a spot called the 'Fort of the Chichimèques?'"
"Do you know by what Indians these mountains are inhabited?" he at length asked.
"Yes, by poor wretches who call themselves the Root-Eaters, and whom the hunters and trappers designate by the name of the 'Worthy of Pity.' They are, I believe, timid, harmless creatures, a species of incomplete men, in whom brutal instincts have stifled the intellect; however, I only speak of them from hearsay, for I never saw one of the poor devils."
"You are perfectly well informed about them, and they are what you depict them. I have often had opportunities of meeting them, and have lamented the degree of brutalization into which this hapless race has fallen."
"Permit me to remark that I do not see what connection can exist between this unhappy tribe and the information I ask of you."
"There is a very great one. Since I have been roaming about these mountains you are the first man of my own colour with whom I have consented to enter into relations. The Root-Eaters have neither history nor traditions. Their life is restricted to eating, drinking, and sleeping, and I have not learned from them any of the names given to the majestic peaks that surround us. Hence, though I perfectly well know the spot to which you refer, unless you describe it differently, it will be impossible for me to tell you its exact position."