saddles and a mass of other articles littered
and blocked up the way so that all passage was extremely difficult.

Before I approached the city, I had been canvassing with myself how best
I might escape from the prying inquisitiveness to which every stranger
is exposed on entering a new community. I might have spared myself the
trouble, for I found that I was perfectly unnoticed in the motley throng
with which I mingled.

My strong-boned, high-bred mustang, indeed, called forth many a
compliment as I rode past; but none had any eye, nor even a word, for
the rider. At last, as I was approaching the inn, I beheld a small knot
of men whose dress and looks were not unfamiliar to me; and in a moment
after, I remembered that they were the Yankee horse-dealers I had met
with at Austin, some years before. As time had changed me far more than
them, I trusted to escape recognition, not being by any means desirous
of renewing the acquaintance. I ought to say that, besides my Mexican
costume, I wore a very imposing pair of black moustaches and beard, the
growth of two years at "La Noria," so that detection was not very easy.

While I was endeavoring to push my way between two huge hampers of
tomatoes and lemons, one of this group, whom I at once recognized
as Seth Chiseller, laid his hand on my beast's shoulder and said, in
Spanish, "The mustang is for sale?"

"No, Senhor," said I, with a true Mexican flourish, "he and all mine
stand at your disposal, but I would not sell him."

Not heeding much the hackneyed courtesy of my speech, he passed his
hands along the animal's legs, feeling his tendons and grasping his neat
pasterns. Then, proceeding to the hocks, he examined them carefully;
after which he stepped a pace or two backwards, the better to survey
him, when he said, "Move him along in a gentle trot."

"Excuse me, Senhor, I came here to buy, not to sell. This animal I do
not mean to part with."

"Not if I were to offer you five hundred dollars?" said he, still
staring at the beast.

"Not if you were to say a thousand, Senhor," said I, haughtily; "and
now pray let me pass into the court, for we are both in need of
refreshment."

"He an't no Mexican, that 'ere chap," whispered one of the group to
Chiseller.

"He sits more like a Texan," muttered another.

"He'll be the devil, or a Choctaw outright, but Seth will have his beast
out of him," said another, with a laugh; and with this the group opened
to leave me a fre