The presence of the Mexican at once aroused me from my unpleasant reverie. I recognised him as one of the vaqueros of Don Ramon de Vargas--the same I had seen on the plain during my first interview with Isolina.

There was something in his manner that betokened him a messenger. A folded note, which he drew from under his jerkin--after having glanced around to see whether he was noticed--confirmed my observation.

I took the note. There was no superscription, nor did I stay to look for one. My fingers trembled as I tore open the seal. As my eye rested on the writing and recognised it, my heart throbbed so as almost to choke my utterance. I muttered some directions to the messenger; and to conceal my emotion from him, I turned away and proceeded to the farthest corner of the azotea before reading the note. I called back to the man to go below, and wait for an answer; and, then relieved of his presence, I read as follows:--

"_July_ 18--.

"_Gallant_ capitan! allow me to bid you a _buenas dias_, for I presume that, after the fatigues of last night, it is but morning with you yet.

Do you dream of your sable belle? 'Poor devil!' Ha, ha, ha! _Gallant_ capitan!"

I was provoked at this mode of address, for the "gallant" was rendered emphatic by underlining. It was a letter to taunt me for my ill behaviour. I felt inclined to fling it down, but my eye wandering over the paper, caught some words that induced me to read on.

"_Gallant_ capitan! I had a favourite mare. How fond I was of that creature you may understand, who are afflicted by a similar affection for the noble Moro. In an evil hour, your aim, too true, alas! robbed me of my favourite, but you offered to repay me by _robbing_ yourself, for well know I that the black is to you _the dearest object upon earth_. Indeed, were I the lady of your love, I should ill brook such a divided affection! Well, mio capitan, I understood the generous sacrifice you would have made, and forbade it; but I know you are desirous of cancelling your debt. It is in your power to do so.

Listen!"

Some _hard_ conditions I anticipated would follow; I recked not of that.

There was no sacrifice I was not ready to make. I would have dared any deed, however wild, to have won that proud heart--to have inoculated it with the pain that was wringing my own. I read on:

"There is a horse, famed in these parts as the 'white steed of the prairies' (_el cavallo bianco de los llanos_). He is a wild-horse, of course; snow-white in colour, beautiful in form, swift as the swallow-- But why need I describe to you the 'white steed of the prairies?' You are a Tejano, and must have heard of him ere this? Well, mio capitan, I have long had a desire--a frantic one, let me add--to possess this horse. I have offered rewards to hunters--to our own vaqueros, for he sometimes appears upon our plains--but to no purpose. Not one of them can capture, though they have often seen and chased him. Some say that he _cannot be taken_, that he is so fleet as to gallop, or rather _glide_ out of sight in a glance, and that, too, on the open prairie!

There are those who assert that he is a phantom, _un demonio_! Surely so beautiful a creature cannot be the devil? Besides, I have always heard--and, if I recollect aright, some one said so last night--that the devil was _black_. 'Poor devil!' Ha, ha, ha!"

I rather welcomed this allusion to my misconduct of the preceding night, for I began to feel easier under the perception that the whole affair was thus treated in jest, instead of the anger and scorn I had anticipated. With pleasanter presentiments I read on:--

"To the point, mio capitan. There are some incredulous people who believe the white steed of the prairies to be a myth, and deny his existence altogether. _Carrambo_! I know that he _does_ exist, and what is more to my present purpose, he is--or _was_, but two hours ago-- within ten miles of where I am writing this note! One of our vaqueros saw him near the banks of a beautiful arroyo, which I know to be his favourite ground. For reasons known to me, the vaquero did not either chase or molest him; but in breathless haste brought me the news.

"Now, capitan, gallant and grand! there is but one who can capture this famed horse, and that is your puissant self. Ah! _you have made captive what was once at wild and free_. Yes! _you_ can do it--you and Moro!

"Bring me the white steed of the prairies! I shall cease to grieve for poor Lola. I shall forgive you that _contratiempo_. I shall forgive all--even your rudeness to my double mask. Ha, ha, ha! Bring me the white steed! the white steed!

"Isolina."

As I finished reading this singular epistle, a thrill of pleasure ran through my veins. I dwelt not on the oddness of its contents, thoroughly characteristic of the writer. Its meaning was clear enough.

I _had_ heard of the white horse of the prairies--what hunter or trapper, trader or traveller, throughout all the wide borders of prairie-land, has not? Many a romantic story of him had I listened to around the blazing campfire--many a tale of German-like _diablerie_, in which the white horse played hero. For nearly a century has he figured in the legends of the prairie "mariner"--a counterpart of the Flying Dutchman--the "phantom-ship" of the forecastle. Like this, too, ubiquitous--seen today scouring the sandy plains of the Platte, to-morrow bounding over the broad llanos of Texas, a thousand miles to the southward!

That there existed a white stallion of great speed and splendid proportions--that there were twenty, perhaps a hundred such--among the countless herds of wild-horses that roam over the great plains, I did not for a moment doubt. I myself had seen and chased more than one that might have been termed "a magnificent animal," and that no ordinary horse could overtake; but the one known as the "white steed of the prairies" had a peculiar marking, that distinguished him from all the rest--_his ears were black_!--only his ears, and these were of the deep colour of ebony. The rest of his body, mane, and tail, was white as fresh-fallen snow.

It was to this singular and mysterious animal that the letter pointed; it was the black-eared steed I was called upon to capture. The contents of the note were specific and plain.

One expression alone puzzled me--

"_You have made captive what was once as wild and free_." What? I asked myself. I scarce dared to give credence to the answer that leaped like an exulting echo from out my heart!

There was a postscript, of course: but this contained only "business."

It gave minuter details as to when, how, and where the white horse had been seen, and stated that the bearer of the note--the vaquero who had seen him--would act as my guide.

I pondered not long upon the strange request. Its fulfilment promised to recover me the position, which, but a moment before, I had looked upon as lost for ever. I at once resolved upon the undertaking.

"Yes, lovely Isolina! if horse and man can do it, ere another sun sets, you shall be mistress of the _white steed of the prairies_!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE MANADA.

In half-an-hour after, with the vaquero for my guide, I rode quietly out of the rancheria. A dozen rangers followed close behind; and, having crossed the river at a ford nearly opposite the village, we struck off into the _chapparal_ on the opposite side.

The men whom I had chosen to accompany me were most of them old hunters, fellows who could "trail" and "crease" with accurate aim. I had confidence in their skill, and, aided by them, I had great hopes we should find the game we were in search of.

My hopes, however, would not have been so sanguine but for another circumstance. It was this: Our guide had informed me, that when he saw the white steed, the latter was in company with a large drove of mares-- a _manada_--doubtless his harem. He would not be likely to separate from them, and even if these had since left the ground, they could be the more easily "trailed" in consequence of their numbers. Indeed, but for this prospect, our wild-horse hunt would have partaken largely of the character of a "wild-goose chase." The steed, by all accounts of him, might have been seen upon one arroyo to-day, and by the banks of some other stream, a hundred miles off, on the morrow. The presence of his manada offered some guarantee, that he might still be near the ground where the vaquero had marked him. Once found, I trusted to the swiftness of my horse, and my own skill in the use of the lazo.

As we rode along, I revealed to my following the purpose of the expedition. All of them knew the white steed by fame; one or two averred they had seen him in their prairie wanderings. The whole party were delighted at the idea of such a "scout," and exhibited as much excitement as if I was leading them to a skirmish with guerilleros.

The country through which we passed was at first a dense chapparal, consisting of the various thorny shrubs and plants for which this part of Mexico is so celebrated. The greater proportion belonged to the family of _leguminosae_--_robinias, gleditschias_, and the Texan acacias of more than one species, there known as _mezquite_. Aloes, too, formed part of the under-growth, to the no small annoyance of the traveller-- the wild species known as the _lechuguilla_, or pita-plant, whose core is cooked for food, whose fibrous leaves serve for the manufacture of thread, cordage, or cloth--while its sap yields by distillation the fiery _mezcal_. Here and there, a tree yucca grew by the way, its fascicles of rigid leaves reminding one of the plumed heads of Indian warriors. Some I saw with edible fruits growing in clusters, like bunches of bananas. Several species are there of these fruit-bearing yuccas in the region of the Rio Grande, as yet unknown to the scientific botanist. I observed also the _palmilla_, or soap-plant, another yucca whose roots yield an excellent substitute for soap; and various forms of cactus--never out of sight on Mexican soil--grew thickly around, a characteristic feature of the landscape. Plants of humbler stature covered the surface, among which the syngenesists predominated; while the fetid _artemisia_, and the still more disagreeably odorous creosote plant (_Larrea Mexicana_) grew upon spots that were sandy and arid.

Pleasanter objects to the eye were the scarlet panicles of the _Fouquiera splendens_, then undescribed by botanists, and yet to become a favourite of the arboretums.

I was in no mood for botanising at the time, but I well remember how I admired this elegant species--its tall culm-like stems, surmounted by panicles of brilliant flowers, rising high above the level of the surrounding thicket, like banners above a host. Not that I possess the refined taste of a lover of flowers, and much less then; but cold must be the heart that could look upon the floral beauty of Mexico, without remembering some portion of its charms. Even the rudest of my followers could not otherwise than admire; and once or twice, as we journeyed along, I could hear them give utterance to that fine epithet of the heart's desire, "Beautiful!"

As we advanced, the aspect changed. The surface became freer of jungle; a succession of glade and thicket; in short, a "mezquite prairie."

Still advancing, the "openings" became larger, while the timbered surface diminished in extent, and now and then the glades joined each other without interruption.

We had ridden nearly ten miles without drawing bridle, when our guide struck upon the trail of the manada. Several of the old hunters, without dismounting, pronounced the tracks to be those of wild _mares_, which they easily distinguished from _horse_ tracks. Their judgment proved correct; for following the trail but a short distance farther, we came full in sight of the drove, which the vaquero confidently pronounced was the manada we were in search of!

So far our success equalled our expectations; but to get sight of a _caballada_ of wild-horses, and to capture its swiftest steed, are two things of very unequal difficulty. This fact my anxiously beating heart and quickly throbbing pulse revealed to me at the moment. It would be difficult to describe the mingled feelings of anxious doubt and joyous hope that passed through my mind, as from afar off I gazed upon that shy herd, still unconscious of our approach.

The prairie upon which the mares were browsing was more then a mile in width, and, like those we had been passing through, it was surrounded by the low chapparal forest--although there were avenues that communicated with other openings of a similar kind. Near its centre was the manada.

Some of the mares were quietly browsing upon the grass, while others were frisking and playing about, now rearing up as if in combat, now rushing in wild gallop, their tossed manes and full tails flung loosely upon the wind. Even in the distance we could trace the full rounded development of their bodies; and their smooth coats glistening under the sun denoted their fair condition. They were of all colours known to the horse, for in this the race of the Spanish horse is somewhat peculiar.

There were bays, and blacks, and whites--the last being most numerous.

There were greys, both iron and roan, and duns with white manes and tails, and some of a mole colour, and not a few of the kind known in Mexico as _pintados_ (piebalds)--for spotted horses are not uncommon among the mustangs--all of course with full manes and tails, since the mutilating shears of the jockey had never curtailed their flowing glories.

But where was the lord of this splendid harem?--where the steed?

This was the thought that was uppermost in the mind of all--the question upon every tongue.

Our eyes wandered over the herd, now here, now there. White horses there were, numbers of them, but it needed but a glance to tell that the "steed of the prairies" was not there.

We eyed each other with looks of disappointment. Even my companions felt that; but a far more bitter feeling was growing upon me as I gazed upon the leaderless troop. Could I have captured and carried back the whole drove, the present would not have purchased one smile from Isolina. The steed was not among them!

He might still be in the neighbourhood; or had he forsaken the manada altogether, and gone far away over the wide prairie in search of new conquests?

The vaquero believed he was not far off. I had faith in this man's opinion, who, having passed his life in the observation of wild and half-wild horses, had a perfect knowledge of their habits. There was hope then. The steed might be near; perhaps lying down in the shade of the thicket; perhaps with a portion of the manada or some favourite in one of the adjacent glades. If so, our guide assured us we should soon have him in view. He would soon bring the steed upon the ground.

How?

Simply by startling the mares, whose neigh of alarm would be heard from afar.

The plan seemed feasible enough; but it was advisable that we should surround the manada before attempting to disturb them, else they might gallop off in the opposite direction, before any of us could get near.