“Roncador?”
“Yes; the brave bay-brown you lost in your affair at Las Palmas. He has been recovered for you, and taken care of. Ah! he has been marvellously cared for, I can assure your Honour. He was sent back to the hacienda.”
“Who sent him?” hastily inquired Don Rafael.
“Why, who could it be, your Honour, but Don Mariano de Silva. One of his people brought the horse to Del Valle three days ago—saying that he supposed the owner of such a fine animal would be pleased to have him again. As the saddle and bridle had been lost, a new saddle and bridle were sent along with him. Ah! splendid they are—the bridle, with a pretty bunch of red ribbons on the frontlet!”
“Where are these ribbons?” hastily asked Don Rafael, carried away by the thought that a sight of them might enable him to divine whether the hand of Gertrudis had attached them to the frontlet.
“One of our people—Felipe el Galan—took them to make a cockade with.”
“Felipe is a silly fellow, whom, one of these days, I shall punish for his indiscretion.”
“I told him so, your Honour; but he would take them. I should add, your Honour, that the servant of Don Mariano also brought a letter for you.”
“Ah! why did you not tell me so at first?”
“I began at the beginning, your Honour,” replied the phlegmatic Julian. “Here is the letter.”