ays."

"Juanita and myself are at your disposition, _caballeros_," said Don
Juan, with a grave exaltation. "Never let it be said that the Mexican
nation was outdone by the great Americanos in deeds of courtesy and
affection. Let it rather stand that Juanita was a sacred trust put into
my hands years ago by the goddess of American liberty, and nurtured in
the Mexican eagle's nest. Is it not so, my soul?" he added, more
humanly, to the girl, when he had quite recovered from the intoxication
of his own speech. "We love thee, little one, but we keep our honor."

"There's nothing mean about the old man," said Brown, admiringly, with
a slight dropping of his left eyelid; "his head is level, and he goes
with his party."

"Thou takest my daughter, Senor Cranch," continued the old man, carried
away by his emotion; "but the American nation gives me a son."

"You know not what you say, father," said the young girl, angrily,
exasperated by a slight twinkle in the American's eye.

"Not so," said Cranch. "Perhaps one of the American nation may take him
at his word."

"Then, _caballeros_, you will, for the moment at least, possess
yourselves of the house and its poor hospitality," said Don Juan, with
time-honored courtesy, producing the rustic key of the gate of the
_patio_. "It is at your disposition, _caballeros_," he repeated,
leading the way as his guests passed into the corridor.

Two hours passed. The hills were darkening on their eastern slopes; the
shadows of the few poplars that sparsedly dotted the dusty highway were
falling in long black lines that looked like ditches on the dead level
of the tawny fields; the shadows of slowly moving cattle were mingling
with their own silhouettes, and becoming more and more grotesque. A
keen wind rising in the hills was already creeping from the _canada_ as
from the mouth of a funnel, and sweeping the plains. Antonio had
forgathered with the servants, had pinched the ears of the maids, had
partaken of _aguardiente_, had saddled the mules,--Antonio was becoming
impatient.

And then a singular commotion disturbed the peaceful monotony of the
patriarchal household of Don Juan Briones. The stagnant courtyard was
suddenly alive with _peons_ and servants, running hither and thither.
The alleys and gardens were filled with retainers. A confusion of
questions, orders, and outcrys rent the air, the plains shook with the
galloping of a dozen horsemen. For the acolyte Francisco, of the
Mis