ckled his sense of humor and quenched his anger. He
looked at the professor with a sparkle of laughter in his eyes.

"I have done very wrong, sir," he said, "and I'm very sorry for it. If
you won't give me any bad marks this time, I'll promise to be good in
future."

"Ah! very smooth! To begin with, suppose you ask pardon of Senor Don
Miguel de Mendoza for the affront you have put upon him."

To a soul really fearless, even an apology has no terrors. Moreover,
Freeman's night ride with Don Miguel, though brief in time, had sufficed
to give him the measure of the Mexican's character; and he respected
it so little that he could no longer take the man seriously, or be
sincerely angry with him. The professor's assurance as to Don Miguel's
inoffensiveness had also its weight; and it was therefore with a quite
royal gesture of amicable condescension that Freeman turned upon his
late antagonist and held out his hand.

"Senor Don Miguel de Mendoza," said he, "I humbly tender you my
apologies and crave your pardon. My conduct has been inexcusable; I beg
you to excuse it. I deserve your reprobation; I entreat the favor of
your friendship. Senor, between men of honor, a misunderstanding is a
misunderstanding, and an apology is an apology. I lament the existence
of the first; the professor, here, is witness that I lay the second at
your feet. May I hope to receive your hand as a pledge that you restore
me to the privilege of your good will?"

Now, Don Miguel's soul had been grievously exercised that night: he had
been insulted, he had shivered beneath the shadow of death, he had been
a prey to superstitious terrors, and he had been utterly perplexed by
the professor's eloquent address, whereof (as it was delivered in good
American, and with a rapidity of utterance born of strong feeling) he
had comprehended not a word, and the unexpected effect of which upon his
late adversary he was at a loss to understand. Although, therefore,
he had no stomach for battle, he was oppressed by a misgiving lest
the whole transaction had been in some way planned to expose him
to ridicule; and for this reason he was disposed to treat Freeman's
peaceful overtures with suspicion. His heart did not respond to those
overtures, but neither was it stout enough to enable him to reject them
explicitly. Accordingly, he adopted that middle course which, in spite
of the proverb, is not seldom the least expedient. He disregarded
the proffered hand, bowed ve