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Updated: June 23, 2025
He said this with that Sancho-like simplicity with which most of his countrymen utter a proverb, as though it were an experience rather than a legend, and, taking the riata from the floor, held it almost tenderly before him. "It was made by me, senor." "I kept it as a clue to him, Don Altascar," I said. "If I could find him" "He is here." "Here! and" but I could not say, "well!"
As Senor Altascar rose with well-bred gravity to receive us, George advanced with such a heightened color, and such a blending of tenderness and respect in his manner, that I was touched to the heart by so much devotion in the careless youth.
"The deputies will be here tomorrow to run the lines from this initial point, and there will be no further trouble, I believe, gentlemen." Senor Altascar had dismounted and was gathering a few tufts of dried grass in his hands. George and I exchanged glances.
When we were again beside the crackling fire, in the shifting shadows of the great chamber, Altascar told me how he had that morning met the horse of George Tryan swimming on the prairie; how that, farther on, he found him lying, quite cold and dead, with no marks or bruises on his person; that he had probably become exhausted in fording the creek, and that he had as probably reached the mound only to die for want of that help he had so freely given to others; that, as a last act, he had freed his horse.
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