The stranger was, as well as I could judge, a man of about forty, with an open countenance and intelligent features; he wore the costume of the inhabitants of the country, a broad brimmed felt hat, the crown of which was encircled by a gold band three fingers broad, a variegated zarapé fell from his shoulders to his thighs, and covered the quarters of his horse, and heavy silver spurs were fastened by straps to his vaquero boots.
Like all Mexicans, he had, hanging at his left side, a machete, which is a sort of short and straight sabre, very much like the sword-bayonets of French foot soldiers.
Conversation soon commenced between us, and was not long in becoming expansive.
At the end of about half an hour, I perceived at some distance before me, issuing from the darkness, the imposing mass of a large house; it was the hacienda in which my unknown guide had promised me a good welcome, a good supper, and a good bed.
My horse snorted several times, and of its own accord mended its pace.
I cast a curious glance around me, and could discern the lofty trees of a huerta well kept up, and every appearance of comfort.
I inwardly rendered thanks to my good star, which had brought about so fortunate a rencontre.
At our approach a horseman, placed, no doubt, as a vidette, uttered a loud challenge; while seven or eight rastreros of pure blood, came yelping with joy, bounding around my guide, and smelling me one after another.
"It is I," my companion replied.
"Eh! come along, Belhumeur," replied the sentry; "we have been expecting you more than an hour."