"Upon my word, you seem a match for the seven sleepers of old. Why, man, if Indians had stumbled on you by chance, they had slung your scalp on yonder bough. In times like these men should slumber lightly."
"Very true, Señor; yet mine eyes are heavy, for two moons have seen me riding on. But you are up! wherefore?"
"I proceed on my journey, and wakened you to ask advice and direction, and request your company, if it be that we take the same route."
"Jesu Maria! One might think the man had choice! Why, turn your horse's head, and rest for naught but grass and water."
The Mexican had risen, and in adjusting his blanket, a sudden gust of wind lifted his hat, and it fell to the ground at his feet; he clutched at it convulsively, but it was too late. Dr. Bryant started back in astonishment:
"Inez!"
The head sunk on her bosom, and the hair which had been confined at the back of her head, fell in luxuriant masses to her waist.
"Fearless, yet unfortunate girl! what has led you to this freak?"
A singular group they presented, standing on the broad and seemingly boundless prairie—the March wind moaning through the old oaks, and rustling the brown grass. The moon shone full upon them; Dr. Bryant, with his large cloak wrapped closely about him, and the black cap drawn over his brow—surprise, reproach, pity, and chagrin strangely blended in his gaze. One arm was folded over the broad chest, the other hung by his side. Inez stood just before him, her beautiful head bent so that the black locks well-nigh concealed her features. Her father's large variegated blanket hanging loosely about the tall, slender form. At her feet lay the hat, crushed by the extended foot, and quivering in the night wind, her hands tightly clasped.
"Inez, you crouch like a guilty being before me! Surely you have done nothing to blush for. Yet stranger step was never taken by a reasonable being. Inez, raise your head, and tell me what induced you to venture in this desolate region, alone, unprotected, and in disguise?"