"Would you saddle him, Natalio?" asked Agueda, thinking this an excellent change of programme.
"It would give me pleasure, Señorit'," said Natalio.
Agueda turned and began to walk rapidly down the hill.
"The small man's saddle, Natalio," she called. "I will be ready in a moment." Agueda ran down the hill, keeping ahead of the giant, and sped across the potrero. She flew to her room. There lay the rose as she had left it upon the chair, but she had no time for sentiment. The horse would be at the door in a moment, and indeed, before she had changed her skirt for the cotton riding garment that she usually wore, and which our ladies have imported of late under the name of a divided skirt, Natalio was at the steps. Agueda buckled on her spur, and was out on the veranda in the twinkling of an eye. Uncle Adan was coming up from the river. He saw her stand upon the second step and throw her leg boy-fashion over the saddle, seize the whip from Natalio, and canter away again toward the hill. To his shout of "Where are you going?" she flung back the words, "To Aneta's," and was off.
Her easy seat astride the animal gave her a sense of freedom and independence. The top of the hill reached, she struck off toward Troja, on the other side of which lived Aneta, at El Cuco. Agueda galloped along the damp roads, and then clattered through the streets of the quiet little West Indian town. Arrived upon its further outskirts, she allowed the chestnut to walk, for he was warm and tired. She was passing at the back of Escobeda's casa, through a narrow lane shaded with coffee trees. The wall of the casa descended abruptly to this lane, the garden being in front, facing the broad camino. Agueda heard her name softly called. She halted and looked towards the casa. A shutter just at the side of the balcony moved almost imperceptibly, then was pushed open a trifle, and she saw a face, the face of Raquel, the niece of Escobeda. Raquel had her finger upon her lips. Agueda guided her horse near, in as cautious a manner as could be. When she was well under the opening, Raquel spoke again.
"It is Agueda, is it not? Agueda from San Isidro?"
Raquel whispered her words. Agueda, seeing that there was need for secrecy, also let her voice fall lower than was usual.
"Yes," she smiled, "I am certainly Agueda from San Isidro."
"Ah! you happy girl," said Raquel, in a cautious tone, "to be riding about alone." Agueda's head was almost on a level with Raquel's.