"Come, come," the colonel said good-humouredly, "I shall give up scolding you in future, for I see that it is labour wasted."
The girl smiled maliciously, and was about to reply, when a flash of light was seen in front of the party.
"What is that?" the colonel asked, raising his voice. "Is there anyone on the road?"
"I think so, colonel," one of the domestics answered at once, "for that flash seems to me produced by the flint of a mechero .
"That is my opinion too," the colonel said. "Let us hasten on, in order to see this delayed smoker."
The little band, which had hitherto proceeded at a slow pace, broke into an amble. At the expiration of an hour, at the same time as the sound of a horse's hoofs reached the travellers, they also heard the shrill and discordant sounds of a jarana (guitar), and the refrain of the following song, so familiar in Mexico, was borne on the breeze:
The latter, with a husk cigarette in his mouth, bowed his head in affirmation, and defiantly twanged an air on his jarana; then, throwing it across his shoulder, where it was held by a species of brace, he turned to his addresser, and ceremoniously doffed his vicuna-skin hat.
"May God protect you, caballero!" he said politely. "It seems that the music pleases you."
"Greatly," the colonel answered, scarce able to retain his laughter at the sight of the singular person before him.
He was a tall fellow of eight-and-twenty at the most, marvellously thin, dressed in a ragged jacket, and haughtily folded in a cloak, whose primitive colour it was impossible to recognise, and which was as full of holes as a sieve. Still, in spite of this apparent wretchedness and starving face, the man had a joyous and decided expression about him, which it was a pleasure to look upon. His little black eyes, which looked as if pierced by an auger, sparkled with humour,
and his manner had something distingué about it. He was mounted on a horse as thin and lanky as himself, against whose hollow flanks beat the straight sword called a machete , which the Mexicans continually wear at their side, passed through an iron ring instead of a sheath.
"You are very late on the road, compañero," the colonel continued, whose escort had by this time caught him up. "Is it prudent for you to travel alone at this hour?"
"What have I to fear?" the stranger replied. "What salteador would be such a fool as to stop me?"
"Who knows?" the colonel remarked with a smile. "Appearances are often deceitful, and it is not a bad plan to pretend poverty, in order to travel in safety along the high roads of our beloved country."
Though uttered purposelessly, these words visibly troubled the stranger; still he at once recovered, and continued in a hearty voice,
"Unfortunately for me, any feint is useless. I am really as poor as I seem at this moment, although I have seen happier days, and my cloak was not always so ragged as you now see it."
The colonel, perceiving that the subject of conversation was disagreeable to his new acquaintance, said,
"As you did not stop either at San Pedro or at Zapopan, for I presume that, like myself, you came from Guadalajara "
"It is true," the stranger interrupted him; "I quitted the city about three in the afternoon."
"I suppose," the colonel continued, "that you intend to halt at the mesón of San Juan; so, if you have no objection, we will proceed thither together, for I intend to halt for the night there."
"The mesón of San Juan is a good hostelry," the other said, respectfully lifting his hand to his hat; "but what shall I do there? I have not an ochavo to expend uselessly, and have far to go. I will bivouac on the road; and while my horse, poor brute, is sucking its bit, I will smoke cigarettes, and sing that romance of King Rodrigo, which, as you are aware, commences thus."
And quickly bringing his guitar to the front, he began singing in a loud voice,
"No," the singer replied in melancholy mood; "it is philosophy."
The colonel examined the poor fellow for a moment; then drawing nearer to him,
"I am Colonel Don Sebastian Guerrero de Chimalpos. I am travelling with my daughter and a few servants. Grant me the honour of your company for this night: tomorrow we will separate, and go our several ways."
The stranger hesitated for a moment, and frowned. This shade of dissatisfaction, however, soon disappeared.
"I am a proud fool," he replied with affecting frankness; "misery renders me so susceptible that I fancy people are ever trying to humiliate me. I accept your gracious invitation as frankly as it is offered. Perhaps I may be able to prove my gratitude to you ere long."
The colonel paid no great attention to these words, because, just at the moment, the party arrived at the mesón of San Juan, whose lighted windows had revealed its proximity to the travellers for some time past.