Then the door was opened and the big fellow came bulkily into the room.
Fremont glanced up at the brutal face, only half revealed by the flaring candle he carried on a level with his enormous ears, but did not speak.

From the outer room came a clatter of Spanish words.
"I have been wondering," the fellow said, in a voice which showed a degree of education and culture not proclaimed by the coarse face, "why you attacked Cameron ?" "I didn't!" replied Fremont, hotly.
"The proof is against you!" Fremont did not answer.

He was listening for the call of a wolf on the mountain.
"The proof is against you, boy," repeated the renegade.
After hearing the brief talk at the angle of the hut, Fremont had little desire for a conversation with the fellow.

The inference to be drawn from that conversation was unmistakable.

He was to be murdered by his captors.