“But I urged you in that to remain at a distance, until all had been arranged.”

“I know, my son, I know.  I thought like you at first.  But presently I became anxious.”

“Not suspicious of my good faith!” exclaimed Coronado in a horrified whisper.  “Oh, that is surely impossible.”

“No, no—­not suspicious—­no, no, my son,” chattered Garcia eagerly.  “But I began to fear that you needed my help.  Things seemed to move so slowly.  Madre de Dios!  All across the continent, and nothing done yet.”

“Yes, much has been done.  I had obstacles.  I had people to get rid of.  There was a person who undertook to be lover and protector.”

“Is he gone?” inquired the old man anxiously.

“Ask no questions.  The less told, the better.  I wish to spare you all responsibility.”

“Carlos, you are my son and heir.  You deserve everything that I can give.  All shall be yours, my son.”

“That Texas Smith of yours is a humbug,” broke out Coronado, his mind reverting to the letter which he had just burned.  “I put work on him which he swore to do and did not do.  He is a coward and a traitor.”

“Oh, the pig!  Did you pay him?”

“I had to pay him in advance—­and then nothing done right,” confessed Coronado.

“Oh, the pig, the dog, the toad, the villainous toad, the pig of hell!” chattered Garcia in a rage.  “How much did you pay him?  Five hundred dollars!  Oh, the pig and the dog and the toad!”

“Well, I have been frank with you,” said Coronado. (He had diminished by one half the sum paid to Texas Smith.) “I will continue to be frank.  You must not stay here.  The question is how to get you away unseen.”

“It is useless; I have been recognized,” lied Garcia, who was determined not to go.

“All is lost!” exclaimed Coronado.  “The presence of us two—­both possible heirs—­will rouse suspicion.  Nothing can be done.”

But no intimidations could move the old man; he was resolved to stay and oversee matters personally; perhaps he suspected Coronado’s plan of marrying Clara.

“No, my son,” he declared.  “I know better than you.  I am older and know the world better.  Let me stay and take care of this.  What if I am suspected and denounced and hung?  The property will be yours.”

“My more than father!” cried Coronado.  “You shall never sacrifice yourself for me.  God forbid that I should permit such an infamy!”

“Let the old perish for the young!” returned Garcia, in a tone of meek obstinacy which settled the controversy.

It was a wonderful scene; it was prodigious acting.  Each of these men, while endeavoring to circumvent the other, was making believe offer his life as a sacrifice for the other’s prosperity.  It was amazing that neither should lose patience; that neither should say, You are trying to deceive me, and I know it.  We may question whether two men of northern race could have carried on such a dialogue without bursting out in open anger, or at least glaring with eyes full of suspicion and defiance.