“Yes. She was able to–to tell me much about the peon life, and I should like to reward her in–in some way. Do you know, Miguel, I suspect she lives on this very ranch. It was at the church here that we would meet her, you know? And now, since I must leave, I wish you to find her. Induce her to come with mademoiselle to the City under your escort. Assure her that she shall have an honored place at court.–Jove, there’s my new order of San Carlos for women! She shall have that for–for aiding my researches among the peons. Now, Miguel mio, do your best!”
With which words Maximilian turned back alone, and as he went, he thought how as a simple man he had won a maiden’s heart. He had been learning that a prince may miss one or two very dear things in life. “It’s ended, the little ranchero idyl,” he murmured. “But there’s been no harm. She shall not regret it.”
156CHAPTER XIX
A Tartar and a Tartar
“But all’s brave that youth mounts and folly guides.”
–AsYou Like It.
As Maximilian crossed the pasture, he suddenly had to jump aside with considerable sprightliness. A brace of horsemen came swerving through the gateway from the highroad and tore down upon him as though the Day of Judgment galloped behind. They were abreast, ten feet apart, but the oddest thing was a lariat that dangled between them, from saddle-horn to saddle-horn.
The thunder of hoofs brought Dragoons and Cossacks and Dignitaries, and emptied the granary. Even insane horsemen could see that the Empire was encamped over that cow lot. And as nearer they rushed, the two maniacs seemed to recognize the fact. One was straightway more anxious to arrive; a directly opposite effect was apparent in the other. And there was the rope between them, from saddle-horn to saddle-horn. Their opinions on destination, unexpectedly diverging, promised something. And since one wanted to stop and the other to hasten, the something was not long in happening.
One of the horsemen–he wore a sombrero–leaned back frantically. The other–who wore a battered soldier cap–passed ahead like the wind. The lariat twanged, but held. Sombrero’s horse got its feet planted. The horse of Soldier Cap slowed to a standstill, and panted. Sombrero flung out his pistol, Soldier Cap his. They aimed at each other, the triggers snapped, no report. They looked amazed, embarrassed; 157and tried again. Same result. “Por Dios!” “Sacré nom!” They hurled the pistols, each at the other’s head. Both ducked. Sombrero wheeled, drove home the spurs, and headed for retreat. Soldier Cap and horse braced themselves against the shock. The spectators, running nearer, now perceived that the lariat was tied round each man’s waist as well as wrapped over his pommel. Soldier Cap weathered the jolt, next plunged suddenly closer, and in the instant of the slack, unwound the rope from his saddle and leaped to the ground. In two leaps more he had Sombrero about the neck. They fell together, rolling and fighting, while Sombrero’s horse reared and plowed the soil with them. Dragoons and Cossacks heaped themselves on all three. It was quite an energetic mystery altogether.
Under the soldier cap, under dust and blood and scratches, Jacqueline caught glimpses of a happy face.