"Let me try him," continued she. "Ah! you have a curb bit--that will
do; but it is not equal to ours. I use a mameluke. Help me to that
lazo."
She pointed to a lazo of white horsehair, beautifully plaited, that was
coiled upon the saddle of the mustang.
I unloosed the rope--mechanically I did--and in the same way adjusted it
to the horn of my saddle. I noticed that the noose-ring was of silver!
I shortened the leathers to the proper length.
"Now, capitan!" cried she, gathering the reins in her small gloved
hand--"now I shall see how he performs."
At the word, she bounded into the saddle, her small foot scarcely
touching the stirrup. She had thrown off her manga, and her woman's
form was now displayed in all its undulating outlines. The silken skirt
draped down to her ankles, and underneath appeared the tiny red boot,
the glancing spur, and the lace ruffle of her snow-white _calzoncillas_.
A scarlet sash encircled her waist, with its fringed ends drooping to
the saddle; and the tight bodice, lashed with lace, displayed the full
rounding of her bosom, as it rose and fell in quiet regular breathing--
for she seemed in no way excited or nervous. Her full round eye
expressed only calmness and courage.
I stood transfixed with admiration. I thought of the Amazons: were they
beautiful like her? With a troop of such warriors one might _conquer a
world_!
A fierce-looking bull, moved by curiosity or otherwise, had separated
from the herd, and was seen approaching the spot where we were. This
was just what the fair rider wanted. At a touch of the spur, the horse
sprang forward, and galloped directly for the bull. The latter, cowed
at the sudden onset, turned and ran; but his swift pursuer soon came
within lazo distance. The noose circled in the air, and, launched
forward, was seen to settle around the horns of the animal. The horse
was now wheeled round, and headed in an opposite direction. The rope
tightened with a sudden pluck, and the bull was thrown with violence to
the plain, where he lay stunned and apparently lifeless. Before he had
time to recover himself, the rider turned her horse, trotted up to the
prostrate animal, bent over in the saddle, unfastened the noose, and,
after coiling the rope under her arm, came galloping back.
"Superb!--magnificent!" she exclaimed, leaping from the saddle and
gazing at the steed. "Beautiful!--most beautiful! Ah, Lola, poor Lola!
I fear I shall soon forget thee!"
The last words were addressed to the mustang. Then turning to me, she
added--
"And this horse is mine?"
"Yes, lady, if you will it," I replied somewhat cheerlessly, for I felt
as if my best friend was about to be taken from me.
"But I do _not_ will it," said she, with an air of determination; and
then breaking into a laugh, she cried out, "Ha! capitan, I know your
thoughts. Think you I cannot appreciate the sacrifice you would make?
Keep your favourite. Enough that one of us should suffer;" and she
pointed to the mustang. "Keep the brave black; you well know how to
ride him. Were he mine, no mortal could influence me to part with him."
"There is _but one_ who could influence _me_."
As I said this, I looked anxiously for the answer. It was not in words
I expected it, but in the glance. Assuredly there was no frown; I even
fancied I could detect a smile--a blending of triumph and satisfaction.
It was short-lived, and my heart fell again under her light laugh.
"Ha! ha! ha! That one is of course your lady-love. Well, noble
capitan, if you are as true to her as to you brave steed, she will have
no cause to doubt your fealty. I must leave you. Adios!"
"Shall I not be permitted to accompany you to your home?"
"_Gracias_! no, senor. I am at home. _Mira_! my father's house!" She
pointed to the hacienda. "Here is one who will look to the remains of
poor Lola;" and she signalled to a vaquero at that moment coming from
the herd. "Remember, capitan, you are an enemy; I must not accept your
politeness; neither may I offer you hospitality. Ah! you know not us--
you know not the tyrant Santa Anna. Perhaps even at this moment his
spies are--" She glanced suspiciously around as she spoke. "O Heavens!"
she exclaimed with a start, as her eyes fell upon the form of a man
advancing down the hill. "_Santissima Virgen_! it is Ijurra!"
"Ijurra?"
"Only my cousin; but--" She hesitated, and then suddenly changing to an
expression of entreaty, she continued: "O leave me, senor! _Por amor
Dios_! leave me. Adieu, adieu!"
Though I longed to have a nearer view of "Ijurra," the hurried
earnestness of her manner overcame me; and without making other reply
than a simple "Adios," I vaulted into the saddle, and rode off.
On reaching the border of the woods, curiosity--a stronger feeling
perhaps--mastered my politeness; and, under the pretence of adjusting my
stirrup, I turned in the saddle, and glanced back.
Ijurra had arrived upon the ground.
I beheld a tall dark man, dressed in the usual costume of the ricos of
Mexico: dark cloth polka-jacket, blue military trousers, with scarlet
sash around his waist, and low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat upon his head.
He appeared about thirty years of age, whiskered, moustached, and,
after a fashion, handsome. It was not his age, nor his personal
appearance, nor yet his costume, that had my attention at the moment. I
watched only his actions. He stood confronting his cousin, or rather he
stood _over_ her, for she appeared before him in an attitude of fear!
He held a paper in one hand, and I saw he was pointing to it as he
spoke. There was a fierce vulture-like expression upon his face; and
even in the distance I could tell, from the tones of his voice, that he
was talking angrily!
Why should she fear _him_? Why submit to such rude rebuke? He must
have a strange power over that spirit who could force it thus tamely to
listen to reproach?
These were my reflections. My impulse was to drive the spurs into the
sides of my horse, and gallop back upon the ground. I might have done
so had the scene lasted much longer; but I saw the lady suddenly leave
the spot, and walk rapidly in the direction of the hacienda.
I wheeled round again, and plunging under the shadows of the forest,
soon fell into a road leading to the rancheria. With my thoughts full
of the incident that had just transpired, I rode unconsciously, leaving
my horse to his own guidance.
My reverie was interrupted by the challenge of one of my own sentries,
which admonished me that I had arrived at the entrance of the village.