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Updated: June 7, 2025
If there was anything in the whole business that really annoyed him, it was the wound of the Comandante it was exasperating! Roblado, more experienced than the surgeon, knew this well. The friendship that existed between the two was a fellow-feeling in wickedness a sort of felon's bond durable enough so long as there was no benefit to either in breaking it.
As Padre Joaquin walked forward on the azotea, his busy bustling air showed that he was charged with some "novedad;" and the triumphant smile upon his countenance told that he calculated upon its being of interest to those to whom he was about to communicate it. "Good day, father! Good day, your reverence!" said the Comandante and Roblado speaking at the same time.
Roblado could not think of time he was too eager to be rich; but Don Ambrosio had listened to his daughter's appeal, and there lay the cause of the captain's trouble. Perhaps the Comandante's influence with Don Ambrosio might be the means of overruling this decision and hastening the wished-for nuptials. Roblado was therefore but too eager to lay his superior under an obligation.
Roblado, deeper in head, as well as bolder in heart, conceived it. Bringing his glass to the table with a sudden stroke, he exclaimed "Vamos, Vizcarra! By the Virgin, I have it!" "Bueno bravo!" "You may enjoy your sweetheart within twenty four hours, if you wish, and the sharpest scandalmonger in the settlement will be foiled; at least, you will have nothing to fear.
It is not so contemptible a feat to rein up on the edge of that `zanca. You fear a ducking, I fancy?" This was uttered in a tone of banter, loud enough for all to hear; and Captain Roblado wound up his speech with a jeering laugh. Now, it was just this ducking that the militarios wished to see.
As he said this he doffed his sombrero, and, waving it gracefully, turned his horse and rode off. Roblado half drew his sword, and his loud "Carrajo!" along with the muttered imprecations of Don Ambrosio, reached the ears of the cibolero.
Had any one been there to watch him, they would have noticed that his countenance assumed a strange and troubled expression every time his eyes chanced to wander in the direction of La Nina. Roblado entered the chapparal, the boy Esteban stepping a few paces in advance of his horse's head. For half-a-mile or so he traversed a leading road that ran between the town and one of the passes.
He replied, at length, "Captain Roblado, I have said it is not worth my while to perform what a muchachito of ten years old would hardly deem a feat. I would not wrench my horse's mouth for such a pitiful exhibition as running him up on the edge of that harmless gutter; but if " "Well, if what?" eagerly inquired Roblado, taking advantage of the pause, and half suspecting Carlos' design.
As Roblado crossed the bridge he was met by the soldier, who, breathless and stammering, announced that the fair prisoner had got into the house. She had slipped from his side and ran off. Had it been an ordinary captive, he could have fired upon her, but he was unable to overtake her until she had passed the door, which was closed and locked before he could get near.
Lose no time." "I shall not waste a minute," Roblado replied, and leaning over the wall he called out, "Hola! Jose! my horse there!" Shortly after a messenger came up to say that his horse was saddled and ready.
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