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He will promise to let us go free if we keep his secret. But he will not have that satisfaction, my friends. Yesterday he had a friend in Roldan Castanada; I would have done anything for him, gladly kept his secret. But to-day he has an enemy that he will do well to fear. A Spaniard never forgets an insult." "What shall you do?" asked Rafael, eagerly. "Expose him?" "No, I do nothing mean.
Roldan and Adan were made welcome at once. "My name is Jose Maria Perez," said the host, coming forward. "This is my wife, Dona Theresa, and these are my sons, Emilio, Jorge, Benito, and Carlos. What shall we call you, my sons?" "My name is Roldan Castanada of the Rancho Los Palos Verdes, and this is my friend Adan Pardo of the Rancho Buena Vista." "Ay! we have distinguished visitors.
Roldan Castanada walked excitedly up and down the verandah of his father's house, his thumbs thrust into the red silk sash that was knotted about his waist, his cambric shirt open at the throat as if pulled impatiently apart; the soft grey sombrero on the back of his curly head making a wide frame for his dark, flushed, scowling face.
As the boys entered and bowed respectfully, Don Tiburcio eyed them keenly, but shook them cordially by the hand. "So you are the son of Mateo Castanada," he said to Roldan. "It is evident enough, although you have something in the face that he has not. Otherwise I should not have done him to death in more than one political battle.
On all sides the vast Rancho Los Palos Verdes cleft the horizon: Don Mateo Castanada was one of the wealthiest grandees in the Californias, and his sons could gallop all day without crossing the boundary line of their future possessions. The rancho was as level as mid-ocean in a calm; here and there a wood or river broke the sweep; thousands of cattle grazed.
We would have craved your hospitality had you been here, but as it was, our hunger overcame us: we have not eaten for many hours. But I am Roldan Castanada of the Rancho de los Palos Verdes, senor, and I beg that you will one day let me repay your hospitality in the house of my fathers." "Holy smoke!" exclaimed the man, "all that high-falutin' lingo for a potful of squirril.
"Listen, my friend," he said rapidly, interrupting Adan's voluble hospitality. "The soldiers are out for conscripts " "Ay, yi! "Now listen, and don't talk until I am done. I WILL NOT be drafted as if I had no will of my own, and rot in a barrack while others enjoy life. Neither will you if you have the spirit of a Pardo and are worthy to be the friend of Roldan Castanada. So I fly.
He was not without ambitions of his own, and determined to seize the first opportunity to remind his companions that the son of Don Tiburcio Carillo, the greatest ranchero of that section of the Californias, had not the habit to occupy the humble position of tag-behind even to so brilliant and adventurous a guest as Roldan Castanada. He soon found his opportunity.
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