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As she sprang to her feet there was a tap at the door and a white-capped, white-aproned maid appeared, saying: "Good morning, Señorita. The Señora sent me to serve you and help you about your bath. It is ready, yes, and the other señoritas have breakfasted and gone out, si. By my Lady's orders you were not to be awakened till you roused yourself." "Oh! but I am sorry.
Beautiful and delicate senoritas would disguise themselves in men's attire and steal out at night to the near-by haunts of lover or brother in the "Long Grass," as the insurgents' camps are called, with food secreted in false pockets, or letters, whose envelopes had been dipped in ink, hidden in their black hair.
There they go, prancing over the ground, causing their gaily caparisoned steeds to caper and curvet, especially in front of the tiers of seated senoritas. There are miners among them, and young hacendados, and rancheros, and vaqueros, and ciboleros, and young merchants who ride well. Every one rides well in Mexico even the dwellers in cities are good horsemen.
He bowed low with elaborate and sinuous grace. His smile revealed brilliant teeth, enhanced the brilliance of his eyes. He slowly spread deprecatory hands. "Senoritas, I beg a thousand pardons," he said. How strange it was for Madeline to hear English spoken in a soft, whiningly sweet accent! "The gracious hospitality of Don Carlos has passed with his house."
The plaza, round which the new town roars from dawn to dusk, is still haunted by a crumbling old adobe, while near it droop dusty pepper trees that seem to whisper to each other endlessly "Mañana! Mañana!" Whisper as did those swarthy vaqueros and the young, lithe, low-voiced señoritas who strolled across the plaza in the dusk of by-gone days. "Mañana! Mañana! To-morrow! To-morrow!"
Under the shade of an immense live-oak just west of the barn, the big waiter at the Miners' Home was running an opposition saloon to the one inside, with a plank on two kegs for a bar. The center of the barn was already filled with dark-skinned Señoritas and tall, gawky miners dancing to the music of a squeaky violin.
Warm sunlight, and bonfires fallen to cheerless, charred embers and ashes gone gray; warm sunlight, and eyes grown heavy with the weariness of surfeited pleasure. Bullock carts creaked again, their squealing growing gradually fainter as the fat-jowled señoras lurched home to the monotony of life, while the señoritas drowsed and dreamed, and smiled in their dreaming.
"Don't you think Miss Garavel is a pretty girl?" Mrs. Cortlandt questioned, as they strolled toward their box. "She's a dream." Anthony's tone left nothing unsaid. "You got along together capitally. Most of the senoritas are impossible." "By the way, what is her name?" "Gertrudis. Rather pleasing, I think." Kirk thought so, too.
These seem to be better matched, or rather the bull has not run off so well, as all overtake him at once, riding past him in their headlong speed. Most unexpectedly the animal turns in his tracks, and runs back, heading directly for the stand! Loud screams are heard from the poblanas in the carretas from the senoras and senoritas. No wonder. In ten seconds the enraged brute will be in their midst!
"Edward Harvey, we pledge safe-conduct for you, your sisters, and your party. Here is your wagon ready, your team hitched in. Throw your arms out of the door. Come forth as you please. Put the señoritas in the wagon. Look neither to the right nor left, but drive away, and God be with you. We have no quarrel with you and yours. We war only with these soldiers who have killed our chief."
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