the life of me I could not help
breaking into a laugh.

"You are merry, sir. You have made _me_ sad; you have killed my
favourite!"

I shall not easily forget the look that accompanied these words--sorrow,
anger, contempt, defiance, were expressed in one and the same glance.
My laughter was suddenly checked; I felt humiliated in that proud
presence.

"Senorita," I replied, "I deeply regret the necessity I have been under:
it might have been worse--"

"And how, pray?--how worse?" demanded she, interrupting me.

"My pistol might have been aimed at _yourself_, but for a suspicion--"

"_Carrambo_!" cried she, again interrupting me, "it could not have been
worse! I loved that creature dearly--dearly as I do my life--_as I love
my father_--_pobre yegua_--_yeguita_--_ita_--_ita_!"

And as she thus wildly expressed herself, she bent down, passed her arms
around the neck of the mustang, and once more pressed her lips to its
velvet muzzle. Then gently closing its eyelids, she rose to an erect
attitude, and stood with folded arms, regarding the lifeless form with a
sad and bitter expression of countenance.

I scarcely knew what to do. I was in a dilemma with my fair captive. I
would have given a month of my "payroll" to have restored the spotted
mustang to life; but as that was out of the question, I bethought me of
some means of making restitution to its owner. An offer of money would
not be delicate. What then?

A thought occurred to me, that promised to relieve me from my
embarrassment. The eagerness of the rich Mexicans to obtain our large
American horses--_frisones_, as they term them--was well known
throughout the army. Fabulous prices were often paid for them by these
_ricos_, who wanted them for display upon the _Paseo_. We had many good
half-bred bloods in the troop; one of these, thought I, might be
acceptable even to a lady who had lost her pet.

I made the offer as delicately as I could. It was rejected with scorn!

"What, senor!" cried she, striking the ground with her foot till the
rowels rang--"what? A horse to me?--_Mira_!" she continued, pointing to
the plain: "look there, sir! There are a thousand horses; they are
mine. Now, know the value of your offer. Do I stand in need of a
horse?"

"But, senorita," stammered I apologisingly, "these are horses of native
race. The one I propose to--"

"Bah!" she exclaimed, interrupting me, and pointing to the mustang; "I
would not have exchange