"Then you won't cover twenty ounces?"
"I cannot; I would not cover one short of a hundred."
"H'm!" the lepero went on, knitting his brows, "is that meant for an insult, Tío Lucas?"
The banker had no time to reply; for a man of about thirty, mounted on a magnificent black horse, had stopped for a few seconds before the table, and, while carelessly smoking his cigar, listened to the discussion between the banker and the lepero.
"Done for one hundred ounces," he said, as he cleared a way by means of his horse's chest up to the table, on which he dropped a purse full of gold.
The two speakers suddenly raised their heads.
"Here are the cards, caballero," the banker hastened to say, glad of an incident which temporarily freed him from a dangerous opponent. Cucharés shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and looked at the newcomer.
"Oh!" he muttered to himself, "the Tigrero! Has he come for Anita? I must know that."
And he gently drew nearer the stranger, and presently stood by his side.
He was a tall man, with an olive complexion, a piercing glance, and an open and resolute face. His dress, of the greatest richness, glistened with gold and diamonds. He wore, slightly inclined over his left ear, a broad brimmed sombrero, surrounded by a golilla of fine gold: his spencer of blue cloth, embroidered with silver, allowed a dazzling white shirt to be seen, under the collar of which passed a cravat of China crape, fastened with a diamond ring; his calzoneras, drawn up round the hips by a red silk scarf with gold fringed ends and two rows of diamond buttons, were open at the side, and allowed his calzón to float beneath; he wore botas vaqueras (or herdsmen) boots of figured leather, richly embroidered, attached below the knee by a garter of silver tissue; while his manga, glistening with gold, hung tastefully from his right shoulder.