laughter. The greased pig was captured by his tail in a tumult of
excitement, which rivalled the death of the bull, but Elena paid no
attention. It was not until Dario, restive with inaction, entered the
lists for the buried rooster, and by its head twisted it from the ground
as his horse flew by, that she was roused to interest; and as many had
failed, and as his was the signal victory of the day, he rode home
somewhat consoled.

That night, as Dario and Elena danced the contradanza together, they
felt the eyes of Dona Jacoba upon them, but he dared to whisper:--

"To-morrow morning I speak with thy father. Our wedding-day must be set
before another sun goes down."

"No, no!" gasped Elena; but for once Dario would not listen.

VIII

As soon as Elena had left his room next morning, Dario returned and read
the note she had put in her brother's pocket. It gave him courage, his
dreamy eyes flashed, his sensitive mouth curved proudly. As soon as
dinner was over he followed Don Roberto up to the library. The old man
stretched himself out in the long brass and leather chair which had been
imported from England for his comfort, and did not look overjoyed when
his guest begged a few moments' indulgence.

"I am half asleep," he said. "Is it about those cattle? Joaquin knows as
much about them as I do."

Dario had not been asked to sit down, and he stood before Don Roberto
feeling a little nervous, and pressing his hand against the mantelpiece.

"I do not wish to speak of cattle, senor."

"No? What then?" The old man's face was flushed with wine, and his
shaggy brows were drooping heavily.

"It is--it is about Elena."

The brows lifted a little.

"Elena?"

"Yes, senor. We love each other very much. I wish to ask your permission
that we may be married."

The brows went up with a rush; the stiff hairs stood out like a roof
above the cold angry eyes. For a moment Don Roberto stared at the
speaker as if he had not heard; then he sprang to his feet, his red face
purple.

"Get out of my house, you damned vagabond!" he shouted. "Go as fast as
God Almighty'll let you. You marry my daughter,--you damned Indian! I
wouldn't give her to you if you were pure-blooded Castilian, much less
to a half-breed whelp. And you have dared to make love to her. Go! Do
you hear? Or I'll kick you down the stairs!"

Dario drew himself up and looked back at his furious host with a pride
that matched his own. The blood was smarting in h