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Updated: June 16, 2025
We had plenty to do to avoid getting our necks broken, or our teeth knocked out, as we struggled along, up and down barrancas, through marshes and thickets, over rocks and fallen trees, and through mimosas and bushes laced and twined together with thorns and creeping plants all of which would have been beautiful in a picture, but was most infernally unpoetical in reality. "Vamos!
A swarthy hand followed by a chambray-clad arm was thrust in the door, and the pistol snatched out of Murray's hand before the latter even knew what was about to transpire. Pablo Artelan stepped into the room. "Vamos! Go!" he ordered, curtly, and relieved the astonished butler of the tray. Murray glanced at Don Miguel. "Perhaps you'd better go," Don Miguel suggested, weakly.
The wicked little manola first held down her head and blushed; then, raising the long fringes of her eyes, looked up again, and wits a voice as sweet as that of a canary-bird, replied "Con gusto, senor." "Nos vamos!" cried I, elated with my triumph; and pairing off with my brilliant partner, we were soon whirling about in the mazy.
"Tell your mistress that I'm very much obliged to her, but have made other arrangements. Explain to her I appreciate the offer just the same." The lad hesitated, and Dick pushed him into decision. "That's all right, Juan José Pedro Francisco whatever your name is. You've done your levelest. Now, hike back to the ranch. Vamos! Sabe." "Si, señor."
"Senor Pintado!" said he, speaking in Spanish, and after having examined my wounds, "the best medicine for you will be your breakfast; and while your conpaisana is preparing it, you can come with me, and have a little water thrown over you. This painting does not improve your looks; besides, if it get into your wounds, they will be all the more difficult to make a cure of. Nos vamos!"
'Vamos Inglesito, shouted Sevilla, in a voice of thunder; 'answer the monro in the crabbed Gitano. I answered the robber, for such he was, and one too whose name will live for many a year in the ruffian histories of Madrid; I answered him in a speech of some length, in the dialect of the Estremenian gypsies. 'I believe it is the crabbed Gitano, muttered Balseiro.
"He spoke a few words in the broken Gypsy slang of the prison, inquiring of me whether I had ever been in the condemned cell, and whether I knew what a gitana was. "'Vamos Inglesito, shouted Sevilla, in a voice of thunder, 'answer the monro in the crabbed Gitano.
Por la Santissima Madre, vamos!" yelled our guides, and the cry was taken up by the Mexicans, in a shrill wild tone that jarred strangely upon our ears, and made the horses start and strain forward. Hurra! on we go, through thorns and bushes, which scratch and flog us, and tear our clothes to rags. We shall be naked if this lasts long. It is a regular race.
Why, there is every probability that the great body of the Spanish nation speak, think, and live precisely as their forefathers did six centuries ago. In the evening the blacksmith, or, as he would be called in Spanish, El Herrador, made his appearance at the door of Lopez on horseback. "Vamos, Don Jorge," he shouted. "Come with me, if your worship is disposed for a ride.
"Remember that some of our horses are shod: the iron will betray us?" "No, senor, we shall muffle them: nos vamos con los pies en medias!" The idea was not new to me; and without further hesitation, we proceeded to carry it into execution.
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