I was choking with vexation, and could not reply. I began to hate her.
“Let me try him,” continued she. “Ah! you have a curb bit—that will do; but it is not equal to ours. I use a mameluke. Help me to that lazo.”
She pointed to a lazo of white horsehair, beautifully plaited, that was coiled upon the saddle of the mustang.
I unloosed the rope—mechanically I did—and in the same way adjusted it to the horn of my saddle. I noticed that the noose-ring was of silver! I shortened the leathers to the proper length.
“Now, capitan!” cried she, gathering the reins in her small gloved hand—“now I shall see how he performs.”
At the word, she bounded into the saddle, her small foot scarcely touching the stirrup. She had thrown off her manga, and her woman’s form was now displayed in all its undulating outlines. The silken skirt draped down to her ankles, and underneath appeared the tiny red boot, the glancing spur, and the lace ruffle of her snow-white calzoncillas. A scarlet sash encircled her waist, with its fringed ends drooping to the saddle; and the tight bodice, lashed with lace, displayed the full rounding of her bosom, as it rose and fell in quiet regular breathing—for she seemed in no way excited or nervous. Her full round eye expressed only calmness and courage.
I stood transfixed with admiration. I thought of the Amazons: were they beautiful like her? With a troop of such warriors one might conquer a world!
A fierce-looking bull, moved by curiosity or otherwise, had separated from the herd, and was seen approaching the spot where we were. This was just what the fair rider wanted. At a touch of the spur, the horse sprang forward, and galloped directly for the bull. The latter, cowed at the sudden onset, turned and ran; but his swift pursuer soon came within lazo distance. The noose circled in the air, and, launched forward, was seen to settle around the horns of the animal. The horse was now wheeled round, and headed in an opposite direction. The rope tightened with a sudden pluck, and the bull was thrown with violence to the plain, where he lay stunned and apparently lifeless. Before he had time to recover himself, the rider turned her horse, trotted up to the prostrate animal, bent over in the saddle, unfastened the noose, and, after coiling the rope under her arm, came galloping back.
“Superb!—magnificent!” she exclaimed, leaping from the saddle and gazing at the steed. “Beautiful!—most beautiful! Ah, Lola, poor Lola! I fear I shall soon forget thee!”
The last words were addressed to the mustang. Then turning to me, she added—