The sufferer could speak no more, even in whispers. His head fell back upon the turf. He was dead. When the litter was set down in the courtyard of Las Palmas it carried only a corpse! Don Rafael had turned back for his horse, and to bid a hasty adieu to the family of his host.
“If Costal were only here!” said Don Mariano. “Unfortunately the brave fellow is gone away. Only a few hours ago he came to take his leave of me, with another of my people—a negro whom I had no great fancy for. Both, I believe, are on their way to join the insurgent army in the capacity of scouts or guides. Hola!” continued the haciendado, shouting to one of the peons, “send hither the mayor-domo!”
This functionary soon made his appearance; not a house steward—as the name might seem to imply—in white cravat, stockings, and powdered wig; but, on the contrary, a strapping energetic fellow, dressed in full ranchero costume, with a pair of spurs upon his booted heels, whose enormous rowels caused him to walk almost upon his toes, and with long black hair hanging to his shoulders like the manes of the half-wild horses he was accustomed to ride. Such is the mayor-domo of a Mexican hacienda, whose duties, instead of confining him to the dwelling-house, consist in the general superintendence of the estate, often equal in extent to the half of a county. It is, therefore, necessary for him to be a man of the most active habits, a first-class rider, ever in the saddle, or ready to leap into it at a moment’s notice. Such was the personage who presented himself in obedience to the summons of Don Mariano.
“Give orders,” said the latter, addressing him, “to my two vaqueros, Arroyo and Bocardo, to saddle their horses and accompany Señor Don Rafael!”
“Neither Arroyo nor Bocardo can be found,” replied the mayor-domo. “It is eight days since I have seen either of them.”
“Give each of them four hours in the xepo (stocks), as soon as they return!”
“I doubt whether they will ever return, Señor Don Mariano.”
“What! have they gone to join Valdez, think you?”
“Not exactly,” replied the mayor-domo; “I have my suspicions that the brace of worthies have gone to get up a guerilla on their own account.”
“Summon Sanchez, then!”