STEENIE AND TITO.
Sutro and Tito, indeed!
The former in the full glory of his holiday Mexican costume, looking a little the worse for a long journey; the latter in exuberant spirits over his release from the car which he had occupied for nearly a week, padded and luxurious though it had been. The extravagant caresses of one old friend, and the pleading, loving neighings of the other, were met by an ecstatic response, which told how greatly they had been missed.
“Oh! How—Why—I’m so glad I shall—cry!”
“Santa Maria! We part no more, mi niña [my little one].”
“But how could you come? You darlings!”
“How? Save on that horrible railway train, de veras, indeed! But thy Tito suffered not at all, he. Bob and the boys sent him to thee, their Little Un; for, in verity, he was of no use to the Lord of Plunkett, no. Not a saddle nor a bridle would he endure, until to-day. And so—goes thy Bob to the señor and says: ‘The Little Un’s horse travels east to the Little Un, with old Sutro, who will not live at San’ Felisa without his heart’s dearest.’ And—here we are. Caramba! Thou lookest fine, no? But—still—thou wilt return with Sutro to the old hacienda, wilt thou not, mañana [to-morrow, sometime]?”
“The very first mañana that ever I can! But, go away, you boys! What do you want with us?”
“A circus! A circus!” cried the gamins, delighted at seeing Steenie now mounted behind the old Spaniard, whose striking apparel reminded them of nothing but the fascinating entertainment just mentioned.