“How is this?”
“My Indian was slain, also my horse. I managed to drive off the thieves and reach here afoot. I wish to continue my journey immediately. So my only request, señor, will be for a good horse, for which I stand ready to pay.”
Ensign Sanchez threw up his hands in a gesture of despair.
“Ask me for a fortune, señor; ask me to turn traitor to his excellency! Either would be forthcoming sooner than a good horse at this moment. Not a horse worthy of the name can you find now at Santa Barbara. In a day, say, or two, by sending out to some rancho, I may be able to get you one, but none are here now except decrepit brutes I would not ask a gentleman to mount.”
“This is almost past belief!” the caballero said.
“First came the Indian outbreak a year ago, when all the good animals were either killed or run off, and recently came a requisition from his excellency. We have good horses coming, señor, from San Juan Capistrano in exchange for other commodities, but they will not arrive for another month. Believe me, señor, I am sorry! If your business is urgent——”
“I must depart within an hour, and I must have a mount of some kind—the best to be obtained.”
“Ask for food, or gold, or a score of Indian guides! But when it comes to a good horse——”
There was a sudden commotion at the door, where the soldiers had been standing, jesting with the sergeant over his recent defeat. To the ears of the ensign and his guest came the sound of tinkling bells, and they heard the loud laughter of the troopers.
“By the good saint—another stranger!” Cassara exclaimed. “Are all the grandees of Spain abroad this day?”