"What, senor!" cried she, striking the ground with her foot till the
rowels rang--"what? A horse to me?--_Mira_!" she continued, pointing to
the plain: "look there, sir! There are a thousand horses; they are
mine. Now, know the value of your offer. Do I stand in need of a
horse?"
"But, senorita," stammered I apologisingly, "these are horses of native
race. The one I propose to--"
"Bah!" she exclaimed, interrupting me, and pointing to the mustang; "I
would not have exchanged _that native_ for all the frisones in your
troop. Not one of them was its equal!"
A personal slight would not have called forth a contradiction; yet this
defiance had that effect. She had touched the chord of my vanity--I
might almost say, of my affection. With some pique I replied--
"_One_, senorita?"
I looked towards Moro as I spoke. Her eyes followed mine, and she stood
for some moments gazing at him in silence. I watched the expression of
her eye; I saw it kindle into admiration as it swept over the gracefully
curving outlines of my noble steed. He looked at the moment superb; the
short skurry had drawn the foam from his lips, and flakes of it clung
against his neck and counter, contrasting finely with the shining black
of his skin; his sides heaved and fell in regular undulations, and the
smoke issued from his blood-red nostrils; his eye was still on fire, and
his neck proudly arched, as though conscious of his late triumph, and
the interest he was now exciting.
For a long while she stood gazing upon him, and though she spoke not a
word, I saw that she recognised his fine points.
"You are right, cavallero," she said at length, and thoughtfully; "he
_is_."
Just then a series of reflections were passing through my mind, that
rendered me extremely uncomfortable; and I felt regret that I had so
pointedly drawn her attention to the horse. Would she demand _him_?
That was the thought that troubled me. I had not promised her _any_
horse in my troop, and Moro I would not have given for her herd of a
thousand; but on the strength of the offer I had made, what if she
should fancy _him_? The circumstances were awkward for a refusal;
indeed, under any circumstances refusal would have been painful. I
began to feel that I could deny her nothing. This proud beautiful woman
already _divided my interest with Moro_!
My position was a delicate one; fortunately, I was relieved from it by
an incident that carried our thoughts into a new current: the troopers
who had followed me at that moment rode up.
She seemed uneasy at their presence; that could not be wondered at,
considering their wild garb and fierce looks. I ordered them back to
their quarters. They stared for a moment at the fallen mustang with its
rich blood-stained trappings, at its late rider, and her picturesque
garments; and then, muttering a few words to one another, obeyed the
order. I was once more alone with my captive.