in the changeful expression of his features the struggle between
doubt and conviction as to whether he had seen me before. I saw what was
passing in his mind, and I tried a thousand little arts and devices to
mystify him. If I drank my wine, I always threw out the last drops of
each glass upon the floor; when I smoked, I rolled my cigar between my
palms, and patted and squeezed it in genuine Mexican fashion. I turned
up the points of my moustache like a true hidalgo, and played Spaniard
to the very top of my bent.

Not only did these airs seem not to throw him off the scent, but I
remarked that he eyed me more suspiciously, and often conversed in
whispers with his companion. My anxiety had now increased to a sense
of fever, and I saw that if nothing else should do so, agitation alone
would betray me. I accordingly arose, and called the waiter to show me
to a room.

It was not without difficulty that one could be had, and that was a
miserable little cell, whitewashed, and with no other furniture than a
mattress and two chairs. At least, however, I was alone; I was relieved
from the basilisk glances of that confounded horse-dealer, and I threw
myself down on my mattress in comparative ease of mind, when suddenly
I heard a smart tap at the door, and a voice called out, with a very
Yankee accent, "I say, friend, I want a word with you."

I replied, in Spanish, that if any one wanted me, they must wait till I
had taken my "siesta."

"Take your siesta another time, and open your door at once; or mayhap I
'll do it myself!"

"Well, sir," said I, as I threw it open, and feigning a look of angry
indignation, the better to conceal my fear, "what is so very urgently
the matter that a traveller cannot take his rest, without being
disturbed in this fashion?"

"Hoity-toity! what a pucker you're in, boy!" said he, shutting the door
behind him; "and we old friends too!"

"When or where have we ever met before?" asked I, boldly.

"For the 'where,'--it was up at Austin, in Texas; for the
'when,'--something like three years bygone."

I shook my head, with a saucy smile of incredulity.

"Nay, nay, don't push me farther than I want to go, lad. Let bygones be
bygones, and tell me what's the price of your beast, yonder."

"I 'll not sell the mustang," said I, stoutly.

"Ay, but you will, boy! and to me, too! And it's Seth Chiseller says
it!"

"No man can presume to compel another to part with his horse against his
will, I sup