“Well, señor,” I asked, “what is it?”
The stranger hesitated for a moment, and then looking at the mare, replied, “La yegua, capitan.”
“The mare—well, what of her?” I asked, with a beating heart.
“I regret to inform you, captain, that you have purchased a stolen horse;” and the little man bowed politely as he said it.
Had it been an order from the commander-in-chief, placing me under arrest, I should not have been so much vexed at it. I had grown so fond of this animal that I would cheerfully have paid down another two hundred and fifty rather than part with her, and this I saw plainly I would now have to do.
“Stolen!” I echoed involuntarily.
“Yes, captain, it is true.”
“And from whom? From you, sir?”
“No, captain; from Don Miguel Castro.”
“And you?”