g already "dished" the guisado, both
commenced their repast, eating without knife, fork, or spoon. The
tortillas, being still warm, and therefore capable of being twisted into
any form, served as a substitute for all these contrivances of
civilisation, which in a Mexican rancho are considered superfluous
things.

Their simple meal was hardly over when a very unusual sound fell upon
their ears.

"Ho! what's that?" cried Rosita, starting to her feet, and listening.

The sound a second time came pealing through the open door and windows.

"I declare it's a bugle!" said the girl. "There must be soldiers."

She ran first to the door, and then up to the cactus-fence. She peered
through the interstices of the green columns.

Sure enough there were soldiers. A troop of lancers was marching by
twos down the valley, and not far off. Their glittering armour, and the
pennons of their lances, gave them a gay and attractive appearance. As
Rosita's eyes fell upon them, they were wheeling into line, halting, as
they finished the movement, with their front to the rancho, and not a
hundred paces from the fence. The house was evidently the object of
their coming to a halt.

What could soldiers want there? This was Rosita's first reflection. A
troop often passed up and down the valley, but never came near the
rancho, which, as already stated, was far from the main road. What
business could the soldiers be upon, to lead them out of their usual
track?

Rosita asked herself these questions; then ran into the house and asked
her mother. Neither could answer them; and the girl turned to the
fence, and again looked through.

As she did so she saw one of the soldiers--from his finer dress
evidently an officer--separate from the rest, and come galloping towards
the house. In a few moments he drew near, and, reining his horse close
up to the fence, looked over the tops of the cactus-plants.

Rosita could just see his plumed hat, and below it his face, but she
knew the face at once. It was that of the officer who on the day of San
Juan had ogled her so rudely. She knew he was the Comandante Vizcarra.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

The officer, from his position, had a full view of the girl as she stood
in the little enclosure of flowers. She had retreated to the door, and
would have gone inside, but she turned to call off Cibolo, a large
wolf-dog, who was barking fiercely, and threatening the new-comer.

The dog, obedient t