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Updated: July 28, 2025
And it was only that morning that, remembering how much and with what fire Don Clarencio had sought the missing boot from the foot of the Senor Peyton when his body was found, he, Incarnacion, had thought he would look for it on the falda of the second terrace. And behold, Mother of God it was there! Soaked with mud and rain, but the same as when the senor was alive. To the very spur!"
Now that Francisco is rich from the gold Don Clarencio paid for the title, they come not much together. But Pedro is rich, too. Mother of God! He gambles and is a fine gentleman. He holds his head high, even over the Americanos he gambles with. Truly, they say he can shoot with the best of them. He boasts and swells himself, this Pedro!
There was a dead silence, broken only by the drumming of the rain upon the roof of the veranda. Incarnacion slightly shrugged his shoulders. "Don Clarencio does not know the southern county? Francisco Robles, cousin of the 'Sisters, he they call 'Pancho, comes from the south. Surely when Don Clarencio bought the title he saw Francisco, for he was the steward?"
"Get up, Senor Clarencio; get up at once, my master. Strange things have happened. Mother of God protect us!" Clarence rolled to his feet, with the events of the past night struggling back upon his consciousness. "What mean you, Nascio?" he said, grasping the man's arm, which was still mechanically making the sign of the cross, as he muttered incoherently. "Speak, I command you!"
"Now, if Don Clarencio will examine the American spur, he will see what? A few horse-hairs twisted and caught in the sharp points of the rowel. Good! Is it the hair of the horse that Senor rode? Clearly not; and in truth not. It is too long for the flanks and belly of the horse; it is not the same color as the tail and the mane. How comes it there?
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