Chapter Thirty Five.
An Uncourteous Host.
“The chicken-hearted fool! Fool myself, to have trusted to such a hope! I might have known she’d cajole the young calf, and let the scoundrel escape. I could have shot him from behind the tree—dead as a drowned rat! And without risking anything—even disgrace! Not a particle of risk. Uncle Woodley would have thanked me—the whole settlement would have said I had done right. My cousin, a young lady, betrayed by a common scamp—a horse, trader—who would have said a word against it? Such a chance! Why have I missed it? Death and the devil—it may not trump up again!”
Such were the reflections of the ex-captain of cavalry, while at some paces distance following his two cousins on their return to the hacienda.
“I wonder,” muttered he, on re-entering the patio, “whether the blubbering baby be in earnest? Going after to apologise to the man who has made a fool of his sister! Ha—ha! It would be a good joke were it not too serious to be laughed at. He is in earnest, else why that row in the stable? ’Tis he bringing but his horse! It is, by the Almighty!”
The door of the stable, as is customary in Mexican haciendas opened upon the paved patio.
It was standing ajar; but just as Calhoun turned his eye upon it, a man coming from the inside pushed it wide open; and then stepped over the threshold, with a saddled horse following close after him.
The man had a Panama hat upon his head, and a cloak thrown loosely around his shoulders. This did not hinder Calhoun from recognising his cousin Henry, as also the dark brown horse that belonged to him.
“Fool! So—you’ve let him off?” spitefully muttered the ex-captain, as the other came within whispering distance. “Give me back my bowie and pistol. They’re not toys suited to such delicate fingers as yours! Bah! Why did you not use them as I told you? You’ve made a mess of it!”
“I have,” tranquilly responded the young planter. “I know it. I’ve insulted—and grossly too—a noble fellow.”