Pablo turned to the right and pulled at the leading rope, but the bull, with no apparent effort, stubborn only when he knew that he was in the right, turned to the left, and Pablo perforce followed. It was a case of the leader led. When Roncador had reached the point for which he had started, a bare place entirely denuded of branches, he lifted one thick foreleg over, then the other. The hind legs followed as easily, a slight humping of the great flanks, and the tree was left behind. Suddenly Felisa found that they were in the path again.
"Ze bull haave ze raight," commented Pablo. "Ah endeavo' taike de Señorit' roun' de tre'. Bull ain' come. He know de bes' nor me." Don Beltran leaped his horse over the tree trunk, and Don Noé was taken over pale and trembling, whether or no, the roan following Don Beltran's lead. Beltran smiled openly at Pablo's discomfiture, and somewhat secretly at Uncle Noé's fear.
"A good little animal, that roan, Uncle Noé. How does he suit you?" Uncle Noé looked up and endeavoured to appear at ease, releasing his too tight clutch on the bridle.
"Il est rigolo, bien rigolo!" said Don Noé, gaily, between jerks occasioned by the liveliness of the roan. He glanced sidewise at his nephew to see if the Paris argot which he had just imported had had any effect upon him. He owed Beltran something for his superior horsemanship. Beltran never having heard the new word, was, however, not willing to give Don Noé a modicum even of triumph. He was bending over, securing a buckle on his bridle. Without raising his figure, he answered, "C'est vrai, mon oncle, c'est tout à fait vrai, il est très, très rigolo."
"Très ha ha!" added Don Noé.
"Bien ha ha!" nodded Don Beltran, not to be left behind.
"What wretched French Beltran speaks!" said Don Noé to his daughter, later.
Uncle Noé belonged to that vast majority, the great army of the unemployed. He loved the gaieties of the world, the enjoyments that cities bring in their train. But sometimes nature calls a halt. Nature had whispered her warning in Don Noé's ear, and he at once had thought of the plantation of San Isidro as the place to rest from a too lavish expenditure of various sorts. He had come to this remote place for a purpose, but he yawned as they rode along.
Beltran, proud of the beauties of San Isidro, pointed out its chief features as they proceeded. He turned, and said, still in French, to please Uncle Noé, and perhaps to show him that even at San Isidro all were not savages:
"There is much to be proud of, Uncle Noé. It is not a small place, when one knows it all."