“And Don Ramon de Vargas is Ijurra’s uncle?”
“Sure enough, he must be. Ha! I did not think of that. Don Ramon is the uncle. I ought to have known him this morning—that confounded mezcal I drank knocked him out of my mind altogether. I have seen the old fellow several times. He used to come to San Antonio once a-year on business with the merchants there. I remember, too, he once brought a daughter with him—splendid girl that, and no mistake! Faith, she crazed half the young fellows in San Antonio, and there was no end of duels about her. She used to ride wild horses, and fling the lazo like a Comanche. But what am I talking about? That mezcal has got into my brains, sure enough. It must have been her you chased? Sure as shooting it was!”
“Probable enough,” I replied, in a careless way. My companion little knew the deep, feverish interest his remarks were exciting, or the struggle it was costing me to conceal my emotions.
One thing I longed to learn from him—whether any of these amorous duellists had been favoured with the approbation of the lady. I longed to put this question, and yet the absolute dread of the answer restrained my tongue! I remained silent, till the opportunity had passed.
The hoof-strokes of half-a-dozen horses coming rapidly from the rear, interrupted the conversation. Without surprise, I perceived that it was Holingsworth and the rangers who had been left at the hacienda.
“Captain Warfield!” said the Tennessean as he spurred alongside, “my conduct no doubt surprises you. I shall be able to explain it to your satisfaction when time permits. It’s a long story—a painful one to me: you will not require it from me now. This much let me say—for good reason, I hold Rafael Ijurra as my most deadly foe. I came to Mexico to kill that man; and, by the Eternal! if I don’t succeed, I care not who kills me!”
“You have not then—”
With a feeling of relief, I put the question, for I read he answer in the look of disappointed vengeance that gleamed in the eyes of the Tennessean. I was not permitted to finish the interrogatory; he knew what I was going to ask, and interrupted me with the reply—
“No, no; the villain has escaped; but by—”
The rest of the emphatic vow was inaudible; but the wild glance that flashed from the speaker’s eye expressed his deep purpose more plainly than words.