At the first glance I had mistaken the companion of the robber chief for a man, or a boy closely approximating to manhood. There was a man’s hat upon the head—the usual low-crowned, broad-brimmed sombrero. Moreover, the style of equitation was that of a man—a leg on each side of the saddle.
It was only at the second glance that my gaze became fixed—only after perceiving, by the long plaits of hair hanging down to the croup of the saddle—along with some peculiarities of shape and costume—that the companion of the robber chief was a woman!
There was nothing in the discovery to cause me surprise. Both the hat on the head, and the mode—à la Duchesse de Berri—in which the woman was mounted, were sights that could be seen any day upon the roads of Mexico, or in the streets of its cities. Both were but the common fashions of the country.
What fixed my attention was the fact, that I fancied I knew the woman—or rather girl, as she appeared to be—that I had seen her before!
It was only the back of the head and shoulders I was yet permitted to see; but there was sufficient idiosyncracy about these, to beget within me a vague idea of identification.
I had hardly time to enter into the field of conjecture, when a slight turn in the path brought the faces of the leading riders en profile to my view; among others, that of the girl.
A shot through the heart could not have been more painful, or caused me to start more abruptly, than the sight of that face.
“Lola Vergara!”