It was evening before the party reassembled. On arising each member of our party found, neatly folded upon his bed, a complete outfit. Investing themselves in which, they felt more like human beings again. For this kindness the Don would not hear of being paid.
“It is only a small part of my indebtedness to you,” he declared.
After the evening meal that night, which the boys vowed was a starlight breakfast, the Don informed them that the next day being a Saint’s Day and a holiday in the village, he had arranged for a series of sports of the country and a great fete. This was partly in recognition of his gratitude at his daughter’s recovery.
“As you are all good horsemen, possibly you may wish to participate,” went on the Don; “the prizes will be worth competing for. In the lassoing contest the prize will be a double-cinched saddle of Cordovan leather, silver mounted. In a novel game called Tilting the Ring, my daughter has donated as first prize a pair of silver spurs. The second prize in both events will be bridles fitted with silver-mounted bits and appendages. There will be other games, races and so on, but these two contests are the most interesting.”
Of course, this set the boys all agog. Their first rather bashful feelings at the sumptuousness with which they were surrounded, vanished, under the stimulus of discussion of the forthcoming contests. They all, with the exception of the professor, entered for the Tilting the Ring contest, which will be described later, while Coyote Pete and Walt Phelps put down their names as contestants in the lassoing events. Besides these, there were races and jumping contests, in all of which the boys decided to compete.
The next morning dawned fair and still. Jack, on opening the leaded sash of his window, gazed with delight at the landscape below him. Softly rolling hills spread far and near, dotted with park-like groves of trees. Cattle could be seen in the distance, and Jack guessed that they were part of the herds controlled by Don Alverado. At the foot of the hill upon which the hacienda stood, lay the red roofs and white walls of the village, with its cathedral towers rising above the green vegetation which picturesquely was intermingled with the dwellings. Blue smoke ascending into the still air from the chimneys proclaimed the fact that Santa Anita was astir early on the day of the Don’s fete.
Breakfast was a merry meal, and the boys gazed admiringly at the senorita, who looked more beautiful than ever in a white morning gown with a dewy rose stuck jauntily in her black hair.
“Say, she looks like an old Spanish painting, only more so,” observed Jack to Ralph, as, leaving Walt and Pete to look after the stock and the professor to examine the Don’s extensive library, they sauntered off to view the preparations.
“Seems to me you are taking a lot of interest in old Spanish paintings, my gallant youth,” chuckled Ralph with a knowing look.
Jack reddened.