"Then 'twas lucky that you knew of this short cut," remarked José, nothing daunted by the fellow's manner. "Well, good-night, señor. Pleasant ride!" and he drew his horse aside that the stranger might pass.
"He isn't any too polite!" I remarked, as digging his spurs into his horse the fellow galloped off. "He's a fine horseman, though, and has the air of a military man, if I'm not mistaken."
"Yes," agreed José; "he certainly rides like a soldier."
"But he isn't in uniform."
"No; he has left his uniform at home, I expect."
"He must be pretty familiar with Lima to know this short cut."
"I daresay he is. But didn't you recognize him? Well, I suppose it's hardly likely you would; you were only a little chap at the time, and perhaps never saw him. He's a rascal to the marrow!"
"But who is he?" I asked impatiently.
"Pardo Lureña."
"Lureña? Haven't I heard my father speak of him?"