“I am his agent—his mayorazgo—nothing more.”
“Don Miguel Castro,” thought I. “Yes—C for Castro—yes, all as he says, no doubt of it. I must give up the mare.”
“Well, my dear sir,” I asked, after a pause, “how am I to know that your statement is true?”
“Here, captain—here is the certificate of Señor Smeeth.” Saying this, the little man handed me a folded document, on opening which I found it to be a bill of sale delivered by the celebrated Joe Smith, of Mexican horse-dealing notoriety, and describing the property to a hair.
“This seems quite correct,” I observed, returning the bill; “but it will be necessary for you to prove this claim before the commander-in-chief; and when that is done I shall deliver you your mare. Adios, caballero!”
So saying, I rode off to overtake my companions, determined, since I must part with the animal, first to have one good ride out of her.
We spent about a week in the mountains, enjoying every amusement that our friends could provide for us. We found the English haciendados worthy of their reputation. What a contrast between the cheer of their Saxon hospitality and the cold welcome of the selfish Iberian! But we approached the limits of our “leave,” and must get back to duty and the city. After a parting and a promise to return, we leaped once more to the saddle, and headed our horses homeward.
It was our intention to have made the journey back in one day, but the stirrup-cup had delayed us at starting; and night—a very dark one at that season—overtook us as we crossed the isthmus between lakes Tezcoco and San Cristobal. The road was deep, miry, and bordered by bottomless zancas of mud and water. The little village of San Cristobal lay by the border of the lake, at some distance; and wheeling out of the road, we approached it, intending to remain there till morning. The pueblito was reached at length, and with the alcalde’s permission, our horses were picketed in the piazza, and ourselves put in possession of an empty cuarto, which, with several millions of fleas, was placed at our disposal. Money was offered freely, but no supper could be had; and when it was not to be procured for money, we had experience enough among these people to know that it was not to be had at all. A dish of frijoles stewed in lard, a tortilla, and a bowl of sour pulque, were all that we could raise; and, after swallowing this, we lit our cigars, spread our blankets both over and under the fleas, and commenced arranging ourselves for the night.
It so happened that I could talk Spanish “like a book,” and, furthermore, that I was the only one in our party who possessed this accomplishment. The alcalde, in consequence, directed all his conversation to me, and, being a sociable old fellow, he had become very fond of me. He had remained with us until a late hour, and during this time I had offered him a havanna, which he had accepted and smoked with much seeming enjoyment. As I was about seizing my blanket to make my “spread” along with the rest, old José Maria—for this was the alcalde’s name—plucked me gently by the sleeve, and whispered in my ear that “su casa” was “a mi disposition” I was about to translate this hospitable proffer according to its usual French and Spanish signification, when it was repeated in a more pressing manner; and as I was not very difficult to coax away from the cuarto, I took José Maria at his word, and followed him across the piazza. On the other side was su casa. We entered it at once, and were welcomed by a felt, buxom-looking old lady, who proved to be Don José’s left rib. Another lady made her appearance shortly after, who was neither so old, nor so fat, nor so buxom as the doña, but whose complexion was very dusky, with a dangerous black eye peeping from under a dark, crescent-shaped eyebrow. This, I was given to understand, was the only fruit of Don José’s wedded life; and not bad-looking fruit either.
The ladies spent but little time in idle phrases of welcome. José snapped his fingers, and in a twinkling, a turkey hash with a large dish of molé, were smoking upon the table. There were other dishes, too—pleasant little entrées, spiced and flavoured with all sorts of chilé.