‘She’s a good mare—just trying her out.’
‘Had her long?’
‘Oh, yes—’ but that didn’t seem to go with ‘just trying her out.’
The rurale was sizable for a Mexican; not so tall, but thick in proportion; heavy wrists, bulging forearms, thick, straight back. His pony looked small and desperate compared to Mamie, but kept going with outstretched head.
‘And where does the Señor travel?’
‘The next town—Arecibo.’
‘I also go to Arecibo.’
Mamie was now being regarded with even more than customary interest, back and forth, up and down, the rurale’s eye roving, so that it was with difficulty that he kept his mind upon conversation at this time. Still Elbert was used to this sort of thing, having frequently found himself judged as a caballero of some great and elaborate house by the horse he rode.
‘I have heard that the notorious Vallejo is being held in Arecibo,’ he began with sociable impulse.
‘Yes?’ questioned the trooper in return.