"Nothing—it's only jealousy. Chiquita being the acknowledged belle of the town, most of the other women, especially those of pure Spanish blood, are jealous as cats of her, and seldom miss an opportunity of saying spiteful things about her. That's why her dancing has caused such a row. And yet," he continued, seating himself on the veranda rail, his back against one of its wooden pillars, "I can't see why. It's race hatred of course, but there's really no reason for it because she's the best educated woman between here and the City of Mexico. Padre Antonio saw to it that she received the best Mexico had to give. Why, she speaks French and English almost as well as she does Spanish. If she were a mestiza or half-caste, things would go hard with her, but being a full-blood, she's easily a match for them all."
"She's certainly an unusual woman," said the Captain; "one you would hardly expect to find in this out-of-the-way place."
"Oh, that's one of the many paradoxes in life," answered Dick. "I've met many a remarkable personality in the most remote regions during my wanderings. But," he continued, abruptly changing the topic of conversation, "what brings you back here? I always felt you would come back to this country again. Civilization isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it?"
"It was a hard wrench just the same," returned the Captain, "especially when one—"
"Did you hear that?" suddenly interrupted Dick, rising from his seat on the veranda rail and gazing intently down the highroad. The sounds of a vehicle and hoof-beats on the hard road, mingled with the shouts of a driver, the crack of a whip and tinkle of bells, were distinctly heard, and presently, a heavy lumbering stagecoach enveloped in a cloud of white dust and drawn by four mules was seen coming down the road at full gallop.
The sounds had also aroused the household. Señora Fernandez at the head of a troop of peons and women rushed out of the house, talking and gesticulating excitedly as they swarmed over the veranda and down the steps in front of the Posada, for all the world like a distracted colony of ants.
"Dios! what can have happened to the stage that it comes in the morning instead of the evening?" she cried breathlessly, quite forgetting her recent ill humor in the excitement.
"There's no stage at this hour," said Dick.
"But there it comes!" answered the Captain.
"It's not the regular stage," returned Dick; "a party of tourists, most likely! I see a lot of women!" he added, as the occupants on the outside of the stage came more clearly into view.