Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 7, 2025
Carlos had now given both of them good cause to hate him, and both hated him from the bottom of their hearts. What vexed Roblado most was, that he was no longer able to take the field nor was he likely to be for several weeks. His wound, though not dangerous, would oblige him to sling his arm for some time, and to manage a horse would be out of the question.
"What is it?" demanded Roblado. "Who is it from?" in the same breath. "The captain will understand it better than I can, as I can't read; but it comes from the Senorita, and looks inside like a letter. The Senorita got it from somebody at church yesterday morning: so thinks Vicenza, for she saw her read it as soon as she got back from morning prayers.
Through her he learnt that Catalina de Cruces was kept under lock and key that Roblado had only been wounded, and would recover that new officers went out with the scouting-parties and that his master's head had risen in price. The shallow artifice of the spies around the rancho had long been known to Carlos.
To a peon had been assigned the duty that would otherwise have been intrusted to him that of keeping watch without. This wretch had been previously bought by Roblado and Vizcarra. The result was, that, instead of acting as sentinel for his master, he hastened to warn his enemies.
Roblado hastened down from the azotea, and the next moment the bugle was heard sounding "boots and saddles." During the conversation that had taken place the cibolero sat, motionless upon his horse where he had first halted. The two officers were no longer in view, as they had stepped back upon the azotea, and the high parapet concealed them.
He perceived this, and, dreading the fire from his adversary, he staggered back to the bank, shouting to his followers to discharge their carbines. Before they could obey the order, the crack of the cibolero's pistol rang upon the air, and Roblado, with a loud oath, rolled down by the edge of the water.
But this friendship did not prevent Roblado from regretting with all his heart that the bullet had not hit his friend a little higher up or a little lower down either in the skull or the throat! He entertained this regret from no malice or ill-will towards the Comandante, but simply from a desire to benefit himself. It was long since Roblado had been dreaming of promotion.
He sprang forward, and looked in the direction indicated. A horseman, covered with sweat and dust, was galloping up the road. He was near enough for Roblado to distinguish his features. Vizcarra had already distinguished them. It was Carlos the cibolero! The announcement made by the cibolero on the bluff startled Don Juan, as if a shot had passed through him.
Roblado believed in the belles of the Havannah, and descanted upon the plump, material beauty which is characteristic of the Quadroons; while the lieutenant expressed his penchant for the small-footed Guadalaxarenas not of old Spain, but of the rich Mexican province Guadalaxara. He had been quartered there. So ran the talk rough and ribald upon that delicate theme woman.
The warlike captain was still engaged in beating the chapparal; but Gomez had come in and reported that he was about to give up the search, and return to the Presidio. To Roblado the occurrences of the day had been rather pleasant than otherwise; and a close observer of his conduct could have told this.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking