It was a tall man, powerfully built, and another young man with a proud and at the same time a stern face. In general, despite the fact that he possessed a human appearance more beautiful than the ugly in all his manners were so low cunning and ferocity, that all this did not have in his favor.
He wore a sort of hunting shirts, sleeveless, of striped calico. She was contracted at the hip wide belt of untanned laney leather trousers of the same material as the blouse, down slightly below the knee, went on leggings and moccasins, decorated with wolf tails, as a mark of distinction for the illustrious warriors. His hair is plaited into braids, were raised on both sides of the head, and neck, they hung down to the waist, his neck hung a few pieces of medals, of which one is the biggest, was decorated with a not particularly clever depiction of General Andrew Jackson, the former President of the North American United States. An Indian was painted blue, black, white and red colors.
Going to the fire, near which were the hunters, Indian folded his arms on his chest, proudly raised his head and began to calmly wait until they deigned to speak to him.
- Who are you? - Asked Don Luis in Spanish.
- Mikskoattsin.
- Hm! - Muttered under his breath Valentin. - This villain moniker something just for the old stuff, never before in my life have I seen such a hideous face.
- Why did you come Mikskoattsin in my camp? - Ask Louis.
- Is Yori did not know? - Answered the imperturbable Indian. - Mikskoattsin is considered the leader of the yaks.
- You wanted to steal my cattle, yes?
- Yaqui not thieves. All that is on their land belongs to them. Pale-faces can be sent to him on the other side of the great salt lake.
- If I sentence you to death, what do you say to that?
- Nothing, it is the law of war. Paleface sees as the leader of yaks will endure torture.
- So, you admit that you deserve to die?
- No. Paleface stronger than me, so he can kill me.
- And if I'll let you go, that you'll think of me? The Indian shrugged his shoulders.
- Paleface not crazy - he replied.
- Well, if I still will do so?
- I'll tell you that pale-faced fear.
- Afraid? Why do I fear?
- Revenge of the warriors of my tribe.
Now it is the turn of Don Louis shrug.
- So, - he continued to ask - if I'll return you your freedom, you do not even thank me for it?
- And what do I thank? A warrior must kill your enemy when he comes across in his hands. If he does so, he's a coward.
The hunters could not restrain an involuntary astonishment on hearing this strange opinion. Don Luis stood up.
- Listen, - he said the prisoner - I'm not afraid now to show you this.
Dart, he grabbed a long strand of hair that hung behind the leader, and cut her with a knife.
- Now, - he added, slapping his face just cut hair - you can leave, you rascal. You're free! I despise you too, to expose other punishment than that which you got now ... Go to your tribe and tell your friends, as white revenge in such a contemptible enemy as you.
In this mortal insult features Injun was twisted with rage, began just disgusting. For a moment he seemed petrified with shame and anger, but the supernatural force overcame anxiety and seizing Don Louie's hand, brought his face close to his face, a hoarse voice whispered:
- Mikskoattsin - a famous leader. Let Yori well remember his name, because he would soon meet again with him again.
And jumped like a tiger, he is in a moment disappeared from view.
- Stop! - Louis shouted to his friends, rushed in pursuit of the American Indian. - Let him run ... What do I care to hate the villain! He can not do anything.
Hunters are reluctant to return back and again took their places beside the fire.
- Hm! - Louis added after a moment of silence. - I may be done more stupid.
Valentine looked at him.
- More than a folly, brother, - he said. - You did a very unwise ... Beware of this man, and remember that one "perfect" day, he brutally avenge you.
- Well, that's the question - nonchalantly said graph. - Since when did you become so afraid of the Indians, brother?
- Ever since the closer they learned - the hunter replied coldly. - You struck this man is one of those insults that require a bloody revenge, and you can be sure that he will make you regret it.
- Oh! God is merciful! Let them take vengeance on how you want them! .. The conversation ended, and the hunters went to sleep. As the sun rose and started off the evening, after a very tiring on the barren sands of the prairie, they finally reached the Pueblo of San Jose. Residents greeted them with loud cries of joy as they were convinced that the aliens did not leave them without that do not provide some of my basic necessities, which they have not been able to get otherwise.
Pueblo of San Jose is a staging post for caravans traveling from the prairies to San Francisco. Travelers crossed about one hundred and eighty miles in less than three weeks - so fast so far not been able to travel further to any caravan.

CHAPTER IV. Explanation friends

The hunters drove their cattle in large corral, and went off to look for refuge in Meson, whose owner, spitting image of the famous knight Don Quixote of La Mancha, received them very kindly. After such a difficult and tedious journey hunters brought great joy to the possibility of a night under the open sky, and at least a few hours might not be in the wilderness, and among similar people, although in a miserable hamlet.
Don Louis and Valentine placed in a quarto, and Don Cornelio and Kurumilla chosen for themselves quarto just the opposite. After a delicious dinner, all hastened to return to their rooms to rest after past labors and hardships.
Don Louis, before going on a bench covered with bull's skin, should serve his bed, went to Valentine, who, at the dilapidated Butakov, smoking a cigarette, exhaling rings of blue smoke.
- What are you thinking? - He asked the other, leaning on the back of Butakov.
- I think of you, - said Valentine, turning to him with a smile.
- About me?
- Yes. On what else I can think of now, if not to see you happy?
Count dropped his eyes and sighed:
- It is impossible. Valentine looked at him.
- It is impossible! - He repeated. - Oh! Surely it has come to this? Let's think about whether we can do something about it?
- You're right! Now just time. A talk from the heart.
Graf pulled her to him Butakov, sat in front of Valentine, took a cigar from his case, which extended his foster brother, and lit it.
Hunter carefully watched all his movements, and when Earl finally sat comfortably, briefly said:
- Speak.
- Alas! The story of my life does not contain anything particularly interesting. It resembles the life of all adventurers. So rich, the poor, I wandered from place to place ... I proceeded all along and across Mexico, carrying with them constantly, like a convict's chain, memories of lost happiness. At one time, or, rather, a moment I thought that for me all is not lost, that I'll be able to win the former position in society. I went to San Francisco, in this El Dorado, which stoustaya rumor told so many miracles. There I mingled with the crowd of greedy and intemperate adventurers, whose life was a continuous orgy, and gold - the only passion. I lived there for several months and has witnessed the most extraordinary metamorphosis. I saw how to create and suddenly became ashes huge state and you immerse yourself into this abyss, I also began to demand the fate of my share of feverish joys and intoxicating excitement. But I'm not lucky, I'm nothing without success. I have tried everything that was possible, and no matter what I was planning what would be the case either started, misfortune pursued me everywhere, as inexorable fate, and I literally just do not dying of hunger ... Who but I was not!. . One time I was not even a porter, but all my efforts have not led to anything ... I'm dying in this new Babylon, where reigned rabble of civilized society, to pursue only one goal - profit of ... There is one other devastated that these ruins to build a base of ingots of gold, and then immediately lose it. Finally, I am sick of this life among the blood, dirt, rags, and gold, and I left disappointed, having decided to become a driver. Is not it a noble pursuit for the Comte de Prebua whose ancestors participated in the three Crusades! - He added with a bitter laugh. - But I knew the generals, who earned their living cleaning boots, and Marquis, serving waiter in a cafe, so that means, and I could not belittling their dignity, to become a cattleman. In addition, I had yet another goal in choosing this profession. From the time of my arrival in North America, I was looking for you and hoping that, in the end, surely find. Today fortune smiled on me, as you see. I, or rather, you found me. That's all I wanted to tell. Now you know about my life exactly as much as I myself. Do not ask me anything more.
The last words of Earl said dry, staccato tone, and, leaning back in Butakov again, lit his cigar, having already managed to go out again. Crossing his arms over his chest, he apparently was determined not to say another word.
Valentine stared at his friend, at times shaking his head and frowning displeasure.
Finally, he decided to resume the interrupted conversation.
- Hm! - He said. - Now I know how you lived here all this time, I agree ... Judging by your story, you do not have to go through anything unusual, so you, in my opinion, does not have any right to complain.
- I'm not complaining - interrupted the count, - I am only stating facts, that's all.
- Quite right, - said Valentine, - but from everything that you told me, for me it is not clear one point.
- What?