shall wait till some one comes;"
and as I spoke, I caught both my companions, and drew them back.

Whether it was the commanding tone of my voice, which the ranger had
heard before, or whether in the light he had recognised my features, I
saw him, before it darkened, lower his piece, and I felt easy again.

But he still obstinately refused to let us pass.

Further parley was to no purpose, and only led to an exchange of rather
rough compliments between Quackenboss and my two companions; so, after
endeavouring to make peace between them, I stood still to await the
chance of some one of the guard coming within hail.

Fortunately, at that moment, a ranger, somewhat the worse for
aguardiente, appeared in the direction of the piazza.

Quackenboss condescended to call him up; and after a crooked palaver, he
was despatched to bring the corporal of the guard.

The arrival of the latter ended our troubles, and we were permitted to
reach the piazza without further hindrance; but as we passed the stern
sentry, I could hear Rube mutter to him--

"Ee durned mulehead! ef I hed ye out upon the parairas, wudn't I!
Wagh!"

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

AN ADIOS.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow--a demi-lune of love, whose
every hour was consecrated to its god. At earliest dawn, by the rosy
rays of Aurora; at golden noon, shadowed under sweet acacias; in the
gleam of the purple twilight; 'neath the silvery light of the moon.

That both laid our hearts upon his altar, and willing knelt before the
shrine, witness ye bright birds and perfumed flowers!--ye green myrtles
and mimosas!--witness ye blue skies of Anahuac! Ye alone were our
witnesses.

For you who have loved, I need not portray the pleasure of this noble
passion; for you who have not loved, I cannot. Love is a delight that
may be known only to those who have experienced it.

Ours was a half-month of happiness without alloy. True, there were
moments of pain--the moments of daily parting--but these were brief, and
perhaps only prevented the cloyment of too much joy--if such a thing be
possible.

Moreover, these short-lived sorrows were in part neutralised by the
knowledge we should soon meet again; we never parted without exchanging
that fair promise. In the morning, it was "_hasta la tarde_;" at night,
our last words were "_manana por la manana_" Lovers have felt, and poets
have sung, the pleasures of hope; oft the anticipation of a pleasure
rivals in piq