“Oh! English. So much the better for us. Tell me, miss; have you seen anybody out here—that is—have you met any one, riding about, or camped, or halted anywhere?”
Isidora appears to reflect, or hesitate, before making reply.
The planter pursues the interrogative, with such politeness as the circumstances admit.
“May I ask where you live?”
“On the Rio Grande, señor?”
“Have you come direct from there?”
“No; from the Leona.”
“From the Leona!”
“It’s the niece of old Martinez,” interposes one of the party. “His plantation joins yours, Mister Poindexter.”
“Si—yes—true that. Sobrina—niece of Don Silvio Martinez. Yo soy.”