Felipe, looking at him, saw that he was of his own age and about his own build--that is to say, twenty-eight or thirty, and tall and lean. But in other respects the difference was great. The stranger was flamboyantly dressed: skin-tight pantaloons, fastened all up and down the leg with round silver buttons; yellow boots with heels high as a girl's, set off with silver spurs; a very short coat faced with galloons of gold, and a very broad-brimmed and very high-crowned sombrero, on which the silver braid alone was worth the price of a good horse. Even for a Spanish Mexican his face was dark. Swart it was, the cheeks hollow; a tiny, tight mustache with ends truculently pointed and erect helped out the belligerency of the tight-shut lips. The eyes were black as bitumen, and flashed continually under heavy brows. "Perhaps," thought Felipe, "he is a _toreador_ from Mexico." The stranger followed his horse to the barn, but, returning in a few moments, stood before Felipe and said: "Senor, I have taken the liberty to put my horse in the stall occupied by yours. Your beast the _muchacho_ turned into the _corrale_. Mine is an animal of spirit, and in a _corrale_ would fight with the other horses. I rely upon the senor's indulgence." At ordinary times he would not have relied in vain. But Felipe's nerves were in a jangle these days, and his temper, since Buelna's dismissal of him, was bitter. His perception of offense was keen. He rose, his eyes upon the stranger's eyes. "My horse is mine," he observed. "Only my friends permit themselves liberties with what is mine." The other smiled scornfully and drew from his belt a little pouch of gold dust. "What I take I pay for," he remarked, and, still smiling, tendered Felipe a few grains of the gold. Felipe struck the outstretched palm. "Am I a _peon_?" he vociferated. "Probably," retorted the other. "I _will_ take pay for that word," cried Felipe, his face blazing, "but not in your money, senor." "In that case I may give you more than you ask." "No, by God, for I shall take all you have." But the other checked his retort. A sudden change came over him. "I ask the senor's pardon," he said, with grave earnestness, "for provoking him. You may not fight with me nor I with you. I speak the truth. I have made oath not to fight till I have killed one whom now I seek." "Very well; I, too, spoke without reflection. You seek an enemy, then, senor?" "My sister's, who is therefore mine. An enemy truly. Listen, you shall judge. I am absent from my home a year, and when I return what do I find? My sister betrayed, deceived, flouted by a fellow, a nobody, whom she received a guest in her house, a fit return for kindness, for hospitality! Well, he answers to me for the dishonour." "Wait. Stop!" interposed Felipe. "Your name, senor." "Unzar Ytuerate, and my enemy is called Arillaga. Him I seek and----"