"Yes, sir," repeated the chief, "my friend."

"What do you mean?" cried Leighton. "Do you mean you will leave my
punishment to my conscience--to my God?"

The chief looked at him quizzically.

"Your punishment? Why, certainly. To your God, if you like. But let us
get down to business. You are nervous. Quite natural. When I was an
irresponsible student, I killed a servant for waking me on the morning
after a spree. I remember I was nervous for weeks. Now sit still. Calm
yourself. Let me think for you. In fact, while we've been chatting, I
_have_ thought for you."

The chief leaned back in his chair and placed his finger-tips together.

"Listen. When it becomes necessary, I shall block all roads--all exits
from the city--by telegraph. There is one highway--the road into the
interior--without telegraph as yet. We should never think of blocking
that.

"Now, as to time available. Let us be on the safe side. You must get
away to-morrow. You have horses, a wagon, stable-hands. Have you a tent?
I will lend you one--a large bell tent.

"Now, as to affairs--your property in this town. You will sign papers
making your friend Lawyer Lima. Rodolpho and me joint trustees. He is my
bitterest enemy, and I am his. In this way you can rest assured that
neither of us will rob you."