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What chiefly infuriated him was that the insult should come from one whom he considered a "greaser," a man of inferior race. He, Texas Smith, an American, a white man, was treated as if he were an "Injun" or a "nigger." Coronado was thoroughly alarmed, and smoothed his ruffled feathers at once. "I beg your pardon," he said, promptly. "My dear Mr. Smith, I was entirely wrong.
"All is lost!" exclaimed Coronado. "The presence of us two both possible heirs will rouse suspicion. Nothing can be done." But no intimidations could move the old man; he was resolved to stay and oversee matters personally; perhaps he suspected Coronado's plan of marrying Clara. "No, my son," he declared. "I know better than you. I am older and know the world better.
And she would stick to it, too, until she was close up to the solid rock, and then would renew the transforming miracle five or ten miles further on. During this long and marvellous journey Coronado renewed his courtship. He was cautious, however; he made a confidant of his friend Aunt Maria; begged her favorable intercession. "Clara," said Mrs.
Now that three or four Apaches had fallen, Coronado had less hope of making his arrangement. He considered the matter carefully and judiciously, but at last he decided that he could not trust the vindictive devils, and he turned his mind strenuously toward resistance.
They were soon perceived; the Apache swarm was instantly in a buzz; horses were saddled and mounted, or mounted without saddling; there was a consultation, and then a wild dash toward the travellers. As the two parties neared each other at a gallop, Coronado rode to the front of his squad, waving his sombrero.
Just before Lent, and about three months after the death of Vandover's father, Henrietta Vance gave a reception and dance at her house. The affair was one of a series that the girls of the Cotillon had been giving to the men of the same club. Vandover had gone to all but the last, which had occurred while he was at Coronado.
"I am sorry for you, Coronado," said Clara, in her artless way. "I am, truly." "You do not know, you cannot know, how you console me." Satisfied with the results of his experiment in boring for sympathy, he tried another, a dangerous one, it would seem, but very potent when it succeeds. "This lack of affection has had sad results.
He shut his one eye, not because he could not keep it open, but to evade the conflict which was coming upon him. Taking quick advantage of the closed eye, Coronado turned to a dressing-table, pulled out a drawer, seized a key, and opened Garcia's trunk. Before the old man could interfere, the younger one held in his hand a paper containing two ounces or so of white powder.
He did work there for one day, and was then found dead at the mouth of the old shaft with marks of bony fingers on his throat. The seven cities of Cibola, that Coronado and other Spanish adventurers sought in the vast deserts of the Southwest, were pueblos.
I couldn't possibly leave for two days yet, even if my recruits should arrive." "How very unfortunate!" groaned Coronado. "My dear fellow, we had counted on you." "Lieutenant Thurstane, can't you overtake us?" inquired Clara. Thurstane wanted to kneel down and thank her, while Coronado wanted to throw something at her.
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