perfumed piece of cambric, with its lace border, was
to him an ensign of hope--a banner that would have beckoned him on to
achieve deeds of still higher daring. He saw it held aloft by a small
jewelled hand, and waved in triumph for _him_. He was happy.

He passed the stand, rode up to the carreta, and, dismounting, kissed
his mother and sister. He was followed by Don Juan, his backer;--and
there were those who noticed that the eyes of the blonde were not always
upon her brother: there was another on the ground who shared their kind
glances, and that other was the young ranchero. No one, not even the
dullest, could fail to notice that these kind glances were more than
repaid. It was an affair of mutual and understood love, beyond a doubt.

Though Don Juan was a rich young farmer, and by courtesy a "Don," yet in
rank he was but a degree above the cibolero--the degree which wealth
confers. He was not one of the high aristocracy of the place,--about
that he cared little; but he had the character of being a brave,
spirited young fellow; and in time, if he desired it, might mingle with
the "sangre azul." It was not likely he ever should--at least through
the influence of marriage. Any one who was witness to the ardent
glances exchanged between his eyes and those of the cibolero's sister,
would prophesy with ease that Don Juan was not going to marry among the
aristocracy.

It was a happy little group around the carreta, and there was feasting,
too,--dulces, and orgeat, and wine from El Taso of the best vintage.
Don Juan was not afraid to spend money, and he had no reason on that
occasion, with fifty onzas of clear gain in his pocket--a fact that by
no means sat easily on the mind of the Comandante.

The latter was observed, with a clouded countenance, strolling around,
occasionally approaching the carreta, and glancing somewhat rudely
towards the group. His glances were, in fact, directed on Rosita, and
the consciousness of his almost despotic power rendered him careless of
concealing his designs. His admiration was expressed in such a manner
that many could perceive it. The poor girl's eyes fell timidly when
they encountered his, and Don Juan, having noticed it, was not without
feelings of anger as well as uneasiness. He knew the character of the
Comandante, as well as the dangerous power with which he was armed. O
Liberty! what a glorious thing art thou! How many hopes are blighted,
how many loves crossed,