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- Стр. 399/662
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She
lances
the
flank
of
her
horse
,
and
spurs
him
,
up
the
slope
of
the
ravine
.
On
reaching
the
upper
plain
,
she
does
not
stop
--
even
for
the
animal
to
breathe
itself
--
but
goes
on
at
a
reckless
gait
,
and
in
a
direction
that
appears
undetermined
.
Neither
hand
nor
voice
are
exerted
in
the
guidance
of
her
steed
--
only
the
spur
to
urge
him
on
.
Left
to
himself
,
he
returns
in
the
track
by
which
he
came
.
It
leads
to
the
Leona
.
Is
it
the
way
he
is
wanted
to
go
?
His
rider
seems
neither
to
know
nor
care
.
She
sits
in
the
saddle
,
as
though
she
were
part
of
it
;
with
head
bent
down
,
in
the
attitude
of
one
absorbed
in
a
profound
reverie
,
unconscious
of
outward
things
--
even
of
the
rude
pace
at
which
she
is
riding
!
She
does
not
observe
that
black
cohort
close
by
;
until
warned
of
its
proximity
by
the
snorting
of
her
steed
,
that
suddenly
comes
to
a
stand
.
She
sees
a
caballada
out
upon
the
open
prairie
!
Indians
?
No
.
White
men
--
less
by
their
colour
,
than
the
caparison
of
their
horses
,
and
their
style
of
equitation
.
Their
beards
,
too
,
show
it
;
but
not
their
skins
,
discoloured
by
the
"
stoor
"
of
the
parched
plain
.
"
Los
Tejanos
!
"
is
the
muttered
exclamation
,
as
she
becomes
confirmed
in
regard
to
their
nationality
.
"
A
troop
of
their
rangers
scouring
the
country
for
Comanches
,
I
suppose
?
The
Indians
are
not
here
?
If
I
've
heard
aright
at
the
Settlement
,
they
should
be
far
on
the
other
side
.
"
Without
any
strong
reason
for
shunning
them
,
the
Mexican
maiden
has
no
desire
to
encounter
"
Los
Tejanos
.
"
They
are
nothing
to
her
,
or
her
purposes
;
and
,
at
any
other
time
,
she
would
not
go
out
of
their
way
.
But
in
this
hour
of
her
wretchedness
,
she
does
not
wish
to
run
the
gauntlet
of
their
questionings
,
nor
become
the
butt
of
their
curiosity
.
